Name: Searching for Peace
Pairings: either Harry/Glorfindel or Harry/Haldir or Harry/Legolas
Summary: Harry has enough from the stressful life and decides to travel to another world.
Chapter 00 - Prologue
He just could not live here anymore. Not in England, not in Europe, not in America, not in Asia and certainly not in Australia. It was completely impossible. He even bought a damn house in the freezing Antarctica, the damn South Pole, where he lived alongside penguins and seals. And they found him. They were driving him bat shit crazy with their attitudes and expectations. Since Voldemort's defeat the public went from happily celebrating to completely insane which was driving him straight to madness as well. At first he was just their 'Savior', the 'Chosen One', the 'Hero of the Wizarding World', the 'boy-who-lived-to-kick-the-dark-lords-ass-twice' and countless other ridiculous names. Those titles were at that moment already too much for him, but his new names were absolutely catastrophic. Now he was named 'the hottest guy in our generation', 'the sexiest man in the last decade', 'woman's most wanted', 'men's most wanted', 'so hot that his aura alone could burn you alive' and 'most charming gentlemen in the world'. And this was only the gist of it.
He just wanted to live a peaceful life after surviving all of Dumbledore's tests in his school years and then defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort in a one on one duel after living in a bloody tent for months and then dying only to be alive the next second. But no, peace was unattainable for him. He just wanted to be left alone. Just him, sitting on the beach, walking through the slightly colder water, relaxing in the sun, feeling the sand in his hands and the soft breeze on his skin, but nobody would freaking let him.
Wherever he went, the press, the fan girls and fan boys were promptly following him. He decided to travel to India and two days later reporters from the 'Daily Prophet' and other suspicious people were standing in front of his door trying to get it to budge which they did not manage. Thank god for small miracles. But it was oh so annoying. They just kept following him everywhere. He fled into the wilderness of many different forests all around the world, never staying in one place too long. He even learned how to live from berries and the animals he hunted alone, how to survive unaided by another human being the harsh climatic conditions of the Amazonian jungle or the arctic woods in Alaska. They were not as fast as usual, but caught up with him eventually and took many embarrassing photos. So his only chance of serenity was the Potter Manson which was under a heavy Fidelius Charm with him as the sole secret keeper and the only one who could enter it. But sometimes he just had to get outside, out of the house, out of the gardens which surrounded the house. Simply because he wanted to see something different. And he had to buy food, clothes and browse for new books as well. He already read most of the tomes which were stored in the Potter and Black library. It did not matter to him if they were about light, neutral and dark magic. Those things were defined by the Ministry, the same ministry which allowed and even encouraged the press to write articles about him being an attention seeking brat and liar or the future dark lord and should be into the insane ward of the St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He only believed them as far as he could throw them without magic.
As a result once in a while he would go to Diagon Alley for some shopping, charmed of course so no one would recognize him. But as soon as he took one step into the alley, the fan boys and fan girls instantly came running. Like they could see through his Glamour Charm or had some kind of tracker on his person or charmed the entrance to scream once he entered 'Alarm! Harry Potter just walked in! Go get him!' or something like that. He was immediately mobbed, his clothes ripped off his body and he just barely avoided being groped by those monsters. A shiver went down his spine. It was so terrifying and definitely scarier then Voldemort could ever hope to be. Those fiends had no kind of moral or anything like it. It was not enough to only secretly take photos of him or make up some insane stories, they went much farther. They were also writing him letters, confessing their undying love for him, inclusive moving photos. A naked eighty plus year old man dancing samba with a plastic puppet which looked really similar to him. Nauseating. A fifty plus woman pleasuring herself to his pictures. Sickening. Two twenty year old female twins in a rather wet tongue fight. Acceptable. Different woman flashing her cleavage. Could be worse. Different men showing their genital. This was more than worse. Since then he decided to never ever in his whole life would open anything that was not clearly from his 'friends' and perhaps the minister. He was scared for life. Voldemort was just a small push-over, these were after all the true evils of the world. Even the Dark Lord himself would run away screaming like a girl after experiencing these pictures.
Why could not his life be normal? When he was little he heard about the saying 'normal is overrated', but this was absolutely nuts. The first ten years of his life, which he could remember, he spent living with the Dursleys. Even though they hated the very air he breathed, they tried more or less to make him normal. His childhood was not that nice or loving, but he managed. He survived everything they threw his way and even more. He was convinced he would go to a normal public school, thank god away from his cousin, and live life normally like he was taught by his relatives. He liked being normal. But then came Hagrid, a friendly half giant who showed him the magical world. And he realized his life would never be normal again.
After this encounter he started his magical schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. At the end of each and every year something horrible happened and he had to play the role of the savior, only he could stop it obviously. Dumbledore's stupid trials. To test his skills for the greater good of course. To him it was just something that put himself and his former friends in grave danger. But what could he have done against the great Dumbledore and his future plans? Until he was old enough, he just had to survive the tests and somehow kill Voldemort as everyone expected him to. So he did what he was told and kept his secret activities a secret even from Ron and Hermione.
He certainly learned many things behind their backs, just not from the beginning. In his first year he was more often than not really naïve and did not think things through. He was happy to be away from the Dursleys and used his time at Hogwarts more like a relaxing vacation than an institution for education. So he spent most of his free time to do nothing important like for example sleeping or just laying in bed, talking to his two best friends, badmouthing Slytherins and Snape, moaning about too much homework and trying to better himself in Quidditch. The last one was the only productive thing he actually did. But at the end of the year, after fighting a Voldemort possessed Quirrell, he began to realize how dangerous, completely stupid, brash and typically gryffindorish his actions were. And the whole thing about three first year Gryffindors getting to the stone easily while Quirrell even had problems. Really suspicious. But he brushed it aside; it was probably nothing he thought.
Second year began like the fist. He was again happy to be away from his totally loving relatives and continued to do nothing. Students were petrified; he was thought to be the ultimate evil because of his ability to speak with snakes. At the end of the year he was again forced to fight against something nearly impossible, a basilisk and he nearly died once more. And Ginny too. Where was Dumbledore? Obviously not there. Before returning to the Dursleys he began to read numerous books from the Hogwarts library, not that somebody realized it of course. The tomes were not even from the restricted section, just normal books about the magical world in general like human transfiguration, helpful charms, potion for idiots, defense against the dark arts and dark creatures, wizarding history, pureblood etiquette, genealogy, magical theory for dummies, runes for beginners, healing spells and countless more. He even owl ordered some to help him survive the boringness of the Dursleys. Next time one of Dumbledore's tests came up, he would know what to do or so he thought.
Third year was different; it was the first time he started to take learning at Hogwarts seriously. Of course he had to do it behind his best friends' back and never show it. Ron was always jealous. Either of his fame or his money or his possessions, there was always a reason for him to be jealous. Harry did not have parents or siblings; Ron was jealous because he could not stand his. And he did not really like intelligent people, most likely because he was jealous of their intelligence, he only kind of accepted Hermione. She on the other hand would be quite unhappy to see that Harry was better than her. She would pout, star angrily at him and sprout bossy nonsense. Somehow he thought they were not really his friends. But he did not mind them. He kept them as a nice distraction and an alibi for Dumbledore; after all he could not read and learn nonstop. Speaking of the headmaster, while they tried to save his godfather, Dumbledore was of course and only by chance exactly at the optimal time in the hospital wing and knew exactly, by chance yet again, how many turns they should take on Hermione's time turner. Really suspicious. After the rescuing mission Harry kept the time turner without anyone noticing it. Such a device was far too precious to give away again. It also helped him to get away from his friends when he needed sometime alone. So when he told them, he would just take a walk for ten minutes, he was often hours away from them doing everything he wanted.
Fourth year was chaos pure with his unwilling entry into a deadly tournament. After the abandonment and betrayal of his 'best friends' and the other Hogwarts students, Harry saw for the first time really realized that they were not really his friends. Probably only after his fame and money. In that period of time he learned and read more than ever because nobody bothered him. They soon enough apologized and he 'forgave' them and everything went back to normal again. After they successfully brewed the Polyjuice potion in Myrtle's bathroom in second year, he fast became friends with her. She would scare all people out of the bathroom, so he had time and a place to brew various potions. Without Snape breathing down his neck, he managed it very well. One of them was the Animagus potion since his father and godfather were both Animagi. He was so thrilled, he nearly told his friends about it. He also learned about pureblood traditions, etiquette and dancing mostly for the Yule Ball, something the Weasleys, especially Ron, would never understand. It was not something like 'Dark Arts', it was just about how to formally greet somebody, how to do parties, how to eat properly, how to act in a formal conversation, how to be witty and things like that. But on the book cover stood 'Pureblood' and that alone was enough for Ron to fall into a rant about Malfoy, Death Eaters, the Dark Lord and evil Slytherins. So he never once said anything.
In fifth year his main problems were the toad Umbridge, blood quills and the Department of Mysteries. After the death of Sirius, which was not that awful since they did not really know each other, he owl ordered an interesting and useful book from Knockturn Alley. It was quite expensive and illegal, but soon he understood the basics about Occlumency and mediation which in turn helped him with his animagus transformation. So with all the extra reading and his detentions he neglected his homework so much that it seemed normal. Hermione did not notice, Ron did not notice, Dumbledore did not notice, so did not the others.
Sixth year was rather calm. Ron spent most of his time either being overly lovely with Lavender or constantly agitating Hermione, who only had eyes for Ron. And he was left alone which was preferable for him.
Before seventh year the Horcrux hunt officially began and after a while Ron once more showed his true colors and left them. Harry discovered the Deadly Hallows and activated the stone before going to Voldemort where he shortly died and one more Horcrux was destroyed. Now only Nagini and Voldemort himself were alive. At the final battle of Hogwarts he defeated Voldemort while Neville killed the snake. Everything was alright, they had won, he broke the Death Stick and threw in into the abyss. Hogwarts was in ruins and people died, but after so many years Voldemort finally died. The wizarding world celebrated for two weeks straight, after all the parties and many hangover potions they buried the dead at last and went back to work.
And then it began. The first few interviews were no problem for him, he thought that they would stop after a while, but the exact opposite happened. They wanted more and more until interviews alone were not enough to satisfy the public and his ever growing fan club. Meanwhile he took his NEWTS at the ministry and began to learn for his job. Ron was disappointed and would not speak to him anymore, because Harry chose as his career to be a healer instead of an Auror with his best friend. Hermione being Ron's girlfriend was of course on her future husband's side even if she understood his choice. So the golden trio finally split.
He continued to happily work at St. Mungo, it was the job he personally wanted to do. Until he noticed the increase of people being sick or getting injured. It took him sometime before he realized that those idiots began hurting themselves only to get a look or speak to him. So he left the hospital and started travelling around the world. His fan club and the press followed him of course. Once he returned to England, the relationship with the Weasley grew suddenly better while they tried to get Harry to marry Ginny who reminded him exactly at the fan girls and fan boys he just fled from. His friends just wanted him for his money or so it seemed. So he hid in the Potter mansion for the next year.
At eighteen he came into his belated inheritance. Gone was the extremely short, scrawny, scarred, half blind, messy-haired boy, and in his place stood a taller, slender man with long black hair and gleaming emerald eyes. His skin was pale and scar free and he would never again need glasses. The softer features of childhood were replaced with sharper, more defined and aristocratic features. He certainly looked beautiful and the press took this as an opportunity to write even more articles, take more photos and send more letters to him.
The only ones he could really trust were the Goblins, they never told lies and if you had enough money, they would do everything humanly possible to help you. They even forgave him for stealing the Hufflepuff Cup from Bellatrix vault, but only because he killed the Dark Lord. So he asked them for a solution. He was so tired, living this stressful life was taking a tool on his mind and body. He was constantly tired and had a dazzled look. He had black bags under his eyes; his skin was unnatural nearly sickly pale, his hair greasy. He looked miserable. But they had an idea, where he as now in this world, he would never find peace. So dimension travel was the only way out. He had to leave this world and travel to another unknown one. He knew the risk. He could land in a dead world without humans or animals or plants or water, but he was willingly to take this risk. He had a chance to be happy, to live a peaceful life away from his 'friends', the press and the fans.
He sold his properties to his fans at an enormous price, which they happily paid and bought more and more books, clothes, food, jewelry, different living and healing equipments, and other magical and vital items. Since he had several things to pack, he bought a multi-compartment trunk with a kitchen, dining room, bedroom, shower room, living room, potions lab, green house, library and two extra storage rooms.
Everything was ready. His trunk was shrunk and hung safely like an amulet from the gold chain around his neck. He was uneasy shifting on his feet until a goblin gave him the okay and he went into the middle of the circle of runes.
Everything flashed brightly before turning black.
Chapter 01 - Living in Peace, Gryffindor Curiosity
When Harry opened his eyes again, he blinked into the soft rays of the sun which was mostly obscured by the branches of the massive trees around him. He felt the soft breeze on his skin and relaxed. He was away. Finally away. He had not felt this tranquil since a long long time ago and it was refreshing. Away from the reporters, his fan club, his friends which were technically not his friends and all the stress. He could lay there on the soft green grass staring at the hidden sky for all eternity. He would stay here, he decided. Here under these trees he felt it, the peace. He closed his eyes and let his fingers brush through the slightly wet grass around him. There was something, deep in the earth reaching out to every plant and being, a very similar power and he understood. The magic of this place seemed old, older than anything he had ever felt before. Several thousand years old. He concentrated and tried to feel it flow through his body, this energy was so powerful and it felt so comfortable. Like a withered flower he regained his former beauty. His skin turned again into healthy pale color and seemed to glow under the sun. His hair was once more silky and gleaming like a moonless night. He breathed deeply in and out, the air was so clear, he could nearly taste nature itself. He began to smile brightly, still laying on the ground too lazy to move. He feared once he sat up this wonderful feeling would vanish and he would wake up in the Potter mansion and know this was only a dream. Just a dream. He would enjoy it until it ended. So he continued to lay there and star at the sky. Soon his eyelids felt heavy, his mind sleepy. And he was gone, back to the sleeping world.
The next time Harry opened his eyes, he was still staring at the branches of the trees but the color of the sky had changed drastically from its former nice light blue into a bright orange color. It was already getting dark and he was still here. No dream. He was here. In one sudden move he sat up and glanced happily around. Obviously it was not a dream or any of his usual day dream, he had back home. He really was somewhere else, in a forest in a new world. A new star, a fresh beginning. No more interviews or marriage contracts or magazine pictures. He was finally free. He jumped onto his feet before wobbling to the tree nearest to him. He should not move too fast for now, he was feeling dizzy. He frowned. The ritual seemed to have taken more from his magical reserves than he anticipated at first. It would take some time until he would have completely recovered.
He watched his surroundings, as far as he could see there were only trees, really big trees and other normal forest plants. He could hear the birds singing and the little steps of a smaller animal on the ground. No sign of civilization or any human interference with nature yet. Perfect! He came here for the sole reason to be alone, to be as far as possible away from anything that could want his autograph.
While glancing around, his gaze swept over the place from which he just stood up and saw something laying there. It seemed to be some kind of soft looking glittering fabric. He had seen it somewhere before, but where? He wobbled there, fell to his knees and reached for the textile. It felt powerful, magical, he knew this feeling. Then he realized it, the harmless cloth before him was his Invisibility Cloak, the same he left with the Goblins!
After he found out about the Deadly Hallows and their power he separated them. Nobody should ever use them again, they were too powerful and humans were just too greedy. It would lead to another war. So all three of them had to vanish, the unbeatable wand, the stone to call back the dead and the cloak which could shield from the killing curse. The Death Stick lay broken and hopefully in many pieces in the abyss of the Hogwarts castle where he threw it. The Resurrection Stone was lost somewhere in the forbidden forest where he let it fall, right before going unarmed in front of Voldemort and the cloak he gave as a present to the Goblins, which seemed rather eager to try it out for themselves. It was the least he could do for them.
Maybe the cloak was just a figment of his imagination. He closed his eyes trying to wish it away. His body and mind had to be still weak from the ritual, that could be explanation for this illusion. He opened his eyes, looked down again and groaned. He was clearly cursed to never be normal or have no normal luck. His bad luck usually got him into trouble and his good luck brought him out of it once more. No, no normal life. Bad luck brought the item here, let's hope that its effects would be positive.
The cloak was still there, laying harmlessly on the ground. Now it was time for his Gryffindor courage to open it and there they were. Impossible. The cloak itself was impossible to be here. The stone and the wand lay whole and without a scratch in the middle of the unfolded fabric. His hand was shaking from shock and slowly went down to touch them. They glowed brightly for a second, his hands immediately shielded his eyes from the brightness. Once he opened them again, the three items seemed to have vanished into thin air. Hallucination. Clearly.
He blinked, funnily enough he felt much better now. His magical levels were normal again and he did not feel faint anymore. He moved his hands through the place where he last saw the imaginary objects and stilled. There was something black, probably a dirt stain, on his right hand. He touched it and rubbed his skin. The markings did not vanish. He used a bit of his spit and tried again. It was still there. He screamed loudly. No, no freaking way! The markings continued under the right sleeve of his cloak, which was promptly removed along with his shirt. The tattoo went up his whole arm until it reached his collar bone. It was a mixture of vines whose leaves looked like wings in different green shades and black. It certainly looked beautiful, but he also felt bewildered.
He was sure that he left the Deadly Hallows in his past world, like four hundred percent sure. Xeno's voice rang through his head, 'those who own all three Deadly Hallows, will become the Master of Death'. He groaned once more, not once could his life ever be normal or logical. The only positive thing about everything was that in this new world, nobody would know him or about his abilities or his status as Master of Death. Now the tension he had felt slowly started to disappear. And he felt calm yet again.
He stood up and noticed that the sun was nearly setting, the shadows of the tress were getting bigger and bigger. It would be dark before long, he had to find a good place to stay. Sleeping on the ground was out, who knew what kind of animals lived down there, maybe saber-toothed tigers or mammoths. Who knew? So he had to climb a tree, which was easier said than done even with all his practice. After some antagonizing minutes he was securely sitting on one of the middle branches, far enough away from the ground, but not all way up where birds of prey or dragons usually hunted. His body was certainly out of shape. He unshrunk his trunk through the password 'there is no way to peace, peace is the way'. Harry was thinking about sticking it to the wide branch he was sitting on, so that it would not fall to the ground while he was sleeping in it. He felt a slight tingling sensation in his fingers, the tattoo on his arm seemed to get warmer and glowed faintly and the trunk was at once securely attached to the tree. Unbelievable.
He never thought about the possibility of him using wandless magic, only the mightiest wizards could use it like for example Merlin Emyris, Morgana LeFay, Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw. He never thought to be one of them. He had to try another spell again. He looked at the tree on his left pointed his arm at it and willed it to burst into flames, quite an idiotic idea in hindsight. He felt his magic leave his body, but nothing happened. He sighed, he was not sure if he should be happy or not. Even if the curse had worked, he had to do a counter spell since he did not want the whole forest to burn to the ground. So he just opened the trunk and went inside. Tomorrow he would try again.
Hours turned into days, days into years, and years into decades. Time moved fast after his first day in this new unknown world. For the first few days of his new life he simply wandered around the forest searching for the perfect place to stay. Until now the only animals he saw were rabbits, snakes, little birds, roe deer and even a pack of wolves. No dragons or dinosaurs. Pretty normal animals and thankfully still no humans in sight. Along the way he took some time to appreciate the environment and enjoy the silence. It was a beautiful forest, untouched by humans, nothing like the ones on Earth. After a while he finally found the right spot, a river where he decided to build his home, firstly because of the good and fresh water supply and secondly because of the amazing scenery. He searched for a tree with many wide branches and good roots. After all he had quite a home to build, a house where he would stay until he died of old age. That was his wish, that was his ambition and that would be his end, his grave.
He built a cozy home consisting of four rooms, a bedroom, a living room, something akin of a kitchen and a storage room. If needed he could also use the library, potions lab, green house and shower room in the multi-compartment trunk he brought from his previous world. The furniture for his house he had also brought with him, so there was no need for his transfiguration skills. Yes, right here he would stay.
Years passed and he did not seem to grow older. His hair became even longer, but was still midnight black, his eyes and ears were still sharp and not one wrinkle appeared on his face. He looked the same as before. Perhaps it had to do with his status as Master of Death which gifted him with immortality, but he had no proof. Maybe it was normal, but when was there a time where he was normal?
Truth to be told, he thought that the loneliness would drive people insane, but he was not. Or so he liked to think. If he wanted someone to talk to, there were at all times different animals around, be it birds or deer or snakes. Whenever he spoke, they would look at him confused with a tilted head but nonetheless listening. When he thought about it, he was kind of strange, talking to animals, but he just ignored it.
When he was not talking to animals or reading his books, he trained his wandless magic. He still had his holly and phoenix feather wand, but there was no use for it anymore. He learned how to cast wandless through the strange tattoo on his arm. But he had to be careful, too much casting could weaken him for many days. He had tried it and also felt the after effects, stupid Gryffindor curiosity. Life was good and peaceful and he would not give it up for anything.
But then he felt the change. In the last few weeks he felt a mighty shift in power. Something evil had appeared. He could feel it in the air, in the plants, in his very bones. The animals were more skittish than usually and much rarer to find. He climbed to the top of the highest tree in the surrounding area. Up north black smoke was rising, the menacing energy came from a black tower. Harry shuddered. He hoped this malevolence power would not reach him here, but he realized that day after day it grew, became larger and more sinister. Sometimes while reading in his house, he would see black creatures running through the woods. A quite disheartening change.
Those humanoid beings would look rather ugly, filthy and nasty. The largest one he saw was near his height, but most of them were as short as a child or in between. Some reminded him of monkeys with their way too long arms; others had crooked backs and legs, missing teeth, eyes or nose, pointed ears and very few hairs and other unsightly deformations. The goblins he met in his former life looked quite dashing and handsome compared to these creatures. And those were only the smaller ones. The other race of humanoids was even taller than him. They were black skinned, broad, powerful looking, burly and with long black hair. Both races wore armors, helmets with white handprints, leather clothing and swords, crossbows or axe blades similar to the ones in the Middle Age. Terrifying. He was glad to have his home hidden up a tree and with an added invisibility spell; they would probably rip him apart like he saw them do to one of their companions.
What kind of animals were they? He knew deep inside, now it was time for him to leave this place. To leave his home, but he just could not, not right now. All these years he was living there, the memories he had made, he peace he had felt. So he continued to stay and hid himself in his safe place from the world. Trying to make himself believe that everything would be alright again. But it only became worse, more and more black creatures appeared as the days went on. They began to hack down all the trees, burn down all plants, kill the remaining animals, poison the air they were breathing and pollute the river, through their contamination had not reached his home yet. But soon it would.
He was woken rather abruptly from his sleep by the loud noise of metal clattering, people marching and grunting under his house. He immediately stilled in bed. Something was happening. He went as quietly as he could to the end of his home and looked down. A whole army was walking upstream, for what purpose he was not sure. He felt sickish, his stomach turning. He got a very bad vibe from them, they seemed to be enthusiastic about something and looked like they were going to war. Certainly not good. He sat back down and decided to wait, but the dreadful feeling remained.
The next time he saw the beasts again, they were returning. They were fewer, some having different kinds of injuries and blood on their armor and weapons. The bad feeling in his stomach returned full force, he had to go and take a look. Maybe he could help someone, but that of course was the healer inside him speaking. He started packing his medical supplies.
Once most of the humanoids were out of sight, he transformed into his animagus form and flew in the direction they just came from. Damn his inner Gryffindor!
He flew for more than two hours before he reached the battlefield. He circled it. The battle must have been gruesome. People and horses were laying side by side on the ground and in the river, obvious dead, sprawled out in crude positions, the stones under them painted in red. Most of them were human, normal human beings like in his previous world, the others were the humanoids he always saw from his home. Up close they looked and smelled even more disgusting than from afar. Everything was still until he saw a man stretching his hand up to the sky as if he tried to touch him. Someone was still alive! He went down; before he was touching the ground he transformed back into his human from and dragged the nearly unconscious man out of the water. The man looked at him, surprise and pain clearly shining in his blue eyes.
The young man looked to be in his late twenties, was tall and had blue eyes and blond hair which was rather long and braided. Why was everyone taller than him? How unfair. But back to the man. His skin was deadly pale because of the blood loss. Harry looked from the nevertheless handsome face over the rest of the body. The wound on his torso looked honestly awful and seemed to hurt the poor man quite badly, or so the youngling's face told him. It would not be an easy painless death; the man would probably live through the next few agonizing hours before finally succumbing to the wound and closing his eyes for his eternal rest. He sighed, his so called people-saving-thing just automatically activated itself.
He remembered, many years ago his vow to not meddle with the affairs of the people in this world. But seeing to young man laying on the ground bleeding slowly to death and all those other corpses around, he realized that he could not just stand there and do nothing. His pride as a Gryffindor and a healer would not let this human die. He would have later time to think about his actions. He knelt down besides the young man who kept staring at him and started to chant the spell. His hand was nearly touching the skin over the injury; even this far away he could feel the cold of this body. His tattoo started to shimmer and heal the big gash on his chest. While the wound was slowly closing, Harry could feel his magic being drained. Damn it, he was a healer and worked in St. Mungo for a nearly a year and now he had problems with healing such a little wound. From now on he would train his magic more again. All these times he just sat around and read his books and did nothing. But truthfully he had no need for much magic until now. Only some cleaning spells, charms and transfiguration when he was bored and now it came back to bit him in his ass. After the worst was cured, he also cast a general diagnosis spell on him not wanting to miss another maybe internal injury. He frowned, there were different kind of poisons in his system. Someone tried to poison this man; they were not really deadly, but could to a considerable degree slow down the reaction of the mind and the body. Someone wanted him to die today. He cast another drying charm and warming charm before repairing his clothes and expelling the poison from his body. Being a healer was rather practical. Because of his bad luck he would always run into situations where he normally got injured, so he decided to become a healer. Now he could heal his wounds himself. Only later he began to help other people.
He was shaken from his thoughts by a hand taking his firmly. He looked back at the now healed man who immediately started to talk. He could just frown, he could not understand a single word at all! Of course, he knew of a way to make him understand, but it was rude and could be seen offensive. But his curiosity was not helping at the moment. He was curious, really curios. Who was that man? Did he know somebody was trying to poison him? Idiotic question, probably not. What happened out there in the world? What was that black smoke that was rising from the north? What were those horrible creatures? What was this battle about? A classical clash between good, the humans, and evil, the black creatures? He wanted to ask the man. The only way to find the answers he sought were through the mind of this man. "Legimens" he murmured while looking into his eyes.
The young man's name was Théodred, the only son and heir of King Théoden of Rohan. Théoden, his father, was at the moment controlled by his chief advisor Gríma which the rest of the Rohirrim called Wormtongue. Harry hissed, this name awoke memories he never wanted to remember again. It sounded far too similar to the name of the traitor Wormtail. As the king sat powerless on his throne only following the worm's ideas like a trained dog, the lands were troubled by Orcs, the small black creatures, Uruk-hai, the larger ones, and Dunlendings, men who turned their back on the race of men. Those creatures operated under the will of the corrupt wizard Saruman, who ruled safely from the black tower Isengard. It was the very same tower he always saw in the distance where now the black smoke was rising.
A part of Théodred's family was still alive and was probably waiting for his return. The children of Théodwyn, Théoden's sister, and Éomund were called Éomer, who later became the third Marshal, and Éowyn. When she was only seven years old, their father was killed fighting Orcs and their mother followed him soon out of grief. Éowyn and Éomer were raised in her uncle's household as if they were his own children. Theodred loved them both like a brother and sister, but the person he loved even more was his father, Théoden. His mother, Elfhild, died unfortunately in childbirth. So much death in one family alone. It made him sad. They all lived such a good life on earth. This world here was similar called, Middle Earth. A nice name.
He also noticed that he would be an unusual sight with his bright green eyes and black hair. The people of Rohan, also called Rohirrim, were usually all tall, pale and mostly had blue eyes and blond hair which they wore long and braided and most men wore beards. People here were mostly herdsmen and farmers who are well known for their horses and cavalry. Since the lands were frequently described as appearing like 'seas of grass', and were therefore perfect for horses. Among the horses were the famed mearas, the noblest and fastest horses who have ever existed.
Apparently he had built his home a little bit downstream of the so called Fords of Isen on the west boarders of the kingdom Rohan, which was also referred to as Riddermark or the Mark. The land consisted mostly of grassland which laid north of its ally Gondor and north-west of Mordor, the realm of Sauron, their enemy. The one with the power to destroy the world, with the power of the One Ring. In the first war more than three thousand years ago countless people died while fighting this ultimate evil, but one man, Isildur, could have ended it forever. While laying underneath Sauron's mighty form, Isildur took the hilt-shard of his father's sword Narsil, which had broken when he fell, and cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand; causing Sauron's spirit to flee. They urged him to destroy it, there in the Mount Doom, to end it all, but the man kept it as an heirloom, which led to his own death later. Now Sauron, with the help of his underling Saruman, built his own army to march to war against the different races of Middle Earth once more. Why were these worlds so similar? The same traitors, Wormtail and Wormtongue. The evil right hands, Malfoy and Saruman. The same war, Voldemort and Death Eaters against him and the forces of the light, Sauron and his black creatures against every free man and elf and dwarf.
Some of these races were hobbits, people who grew only as high as children, dwarves, which was kind of self explanatory, humans, also referred to as the Race of Man, Dúnedain, humans with a much longer lifespan, elves, beautiful immortal beings, and many others. This world was certainly as interesting as the last one. But here was war, he did not want to fight another one. What motivation did he have? He just wanted peace.
Each race spoke another language, he sighed. The language the young man used was Rohirric which was quite similar to Westron, the Common Speech of Middle-earth. On one hand he could learn each and every language over the years, but for that he had to speak to other people, which he did not want. His second option was simply casting a translation spell. He usually used them while traveling around the world, fleeing from his stalkers. The spell translated what was said into English and if he concentrated enough he could also answer them in the same language. It would be the easiest way. He searched Théodred's mind or other useful information. General geography of Middle Earth, other races, historical events, Rohan's armies, their enemies, their allies, different breeds of horses and many other. He groaned, too much information. His head started to hurt. For now that would be enough.
When he finally left the young man's mind, Théodred groaned and blinked sleepily up at him. He probably felt the invasion and was possibly sore from the earlier wound. The man said something to him again, which he did not understand. He cast a quick translation spell and looked down again. How will get this man home again? All horses were slain. He was shaken from his thoughts by the noise of galloping horses. He looked around wildly. There were more people coming. He had to go. Now he could hear a man screaming orders and many footsteps. Harry tried to run but Théodred was holding onto his arm. He did not want to stun the other man.
"Who are you?" screamed the man. Harry looked surprised up. That man was Théodred's cousin Éomer and behind him stood the rest of his éored.
Chapter 02 - Théodred
"Théodred! Théodred, are you alright?" Éomer kneeled down beside him; his face showed deep concern. He looked at the place where the mysterious man quite recently stood. All around him the rest of Éomer's éored searched the battlefield for other survivors, but he already had a feeling that they would find nobody alive. He felt sad, so sad and angry. They were all dead. His éored was dead. His men. His followers. His friends.
"Yes, yes, I am my dear cousin." He said nevertheless turning his head towards his cousin smiling slightly. Why was he here anyway? Was he and his riders their back-up? If yes, they were a bit too late now. Too late. Was father also worried about them? No, right now he would not.
"What happened? The battle? The stranger?" Éomer asked shortly looking worried. So he had not imagined the beautiful stranger who healed him after the massacre. He groaned, he really did not want to tell him about this utterly defeat, a shameful defeat. He should have known that the whole thing was an ambush, that it was staged. But he trusted his father, even now he trusted him more than anyone else. And for his trust, his love not only for his father, but also for the king, they were slaughtered like pigs.
"We had already lost the battle before we even arrived here. It was an ambush. We were lead here to die." Yes, they were. The king informed them about a few dozen Orcs which lurked around the Fords of Isen. Obviously not much to do for them. It would be child's play they thought. But once they got there, over one thousand Orcs and Uruk-hai stood against them. There was no chance of survival, none. But before they could register this fact, the fact that they were send here to die by their own king, the king they always stood by loyally, they were surrounded by the enemy forces. And then the slaughtering began. His men, his truly loyal men tried to shield him from the enemies' arrows with their bodies, their very lives. But it did not matter, shortly after his men fell; he was wounded by an Uruk-hai and fell to the ground hanging half in the river. There was nothing he or they could have done against it. The wound was rather nasty and blood kept flowing out. All he could do was lay there surrounded by his fallen comrades and their horses waiting for death.
"Then how are you alive and unhurt?" That was really a good question. Through a stroke of pure luck he would have loved to answer. Why was he alive while all the others lay dead? He did not know. Because he was only wounded, not dead. He had to somehow tell his cousin without sounding like a madman.
"I was wounded right here." He showed his cousin the faint scar under his shirt, "And was laying in the river waiting for unconsciousness and death to come. I looked at the sky which was partially hidden behind the rainclouds. I really thought today was the day I would die." Éomer nodded clearly urging him to continue his story, "I saw something circling the battlefield. It was big and I thought for a moment it was one of the eagles. I reached out to it and it probably realized there was still someone alive down here. I heard from father," the last word was just a little bit louder than a whisper, "that these animals were as intelligent as normal humans. I thought that maybe they could help me." He shrugged his shoulders, "It was worth a try. But when it went down closer to the ground, I realized it was a horse." He still could not believe it was a horse. But it was a horse, a completely black horse. But they would probably laugh at him. If someone told him they saw a flying horse, he would question the mind of said man.
"A horse?" Éomer could not stifle his snickers, "You saw a horse? Flying? Like a bird?" He hit the back of his cousin's head nicely. He knew it was hard to believe, but he saw it. So he was getting rather annoyed at his snickering cousin. This idiot was going on his nerves and did not make his headache better.
"Yes, a horse with wings." Yes, it was not a normal horse galloping through the air; it had wings with which it could fly like a bird.
"Are you sure? Don't you think it was some kind of hallucination? A horse with wings, really? Maybe you have also hit your head when you fell from your horse." Éomer was still laughing loudly even though he was deadly seriously. The rest of the éored looked at them questionably. Damn! He knew what he saw. He was in so much pain, it could not have been a dream. But how could he make them understand?
"I know what I have seen" he hissed, "I tried to reach for it without success of course, and then it went down and transformed into a human." His story seriously sounded more illogical than he thought at first, even to himself. He should have told them something different. Something more logical. Maybe he really hit his head too hard.
"Not only a horse, with wings I might add, but it could also transform into a human? You really hit your head rather hart, cousin." Éomer's barking laugh rang through the silent Fords. Yes, his cousin summarized it pretty well.
"If you don't believe me, then don't asked questions about what happened to me." He could not hold back the biting tone. He should have lied, he should have lied.
"Okay, okay. I will remain silent and will not question your hallucinations." His cousin said quickly to pacify his mood. It did not really help, but he continued his story anyway.
"I asked the man who he was and if he could help me, but he just tilted his head and looked at me confused before dragging me out of the water." That was quite nice from the man, because he himself did not want to move, afraid to worsen his injury. But the water was so cold it was helping him numb the pain.
"Aha." was Éomer's short answer, but it did not lessen his anger.
"He looked at me for a while before starting to chant in a language I have not heard before. It was soothing and calming, it sounded like a lullaby and I felt some strange energy enter me." This energy did indeed seem strange. He felt at home, he felt at peace the first time since a long while. It was relaxing. It took away the pain.
"Aha, strange energy." His relaxed mood was gone again. Éomer was making fun of him.
"And then the pain was gone and the wound was healed." He glared at his cousin daring him to say something against it, "Then after a while he looked straight into my eyes and my head began to hurt." The man had striking green eyes, greener then anything he had seen before. He finished his tale, "Then you came and the man was gone." Like an illusion, just gone with the wind.
"So, a horse with wings transformed into a human who used some kind of energy on you to heal your wounds and then gave you a headache. And you are absolutely certain that you…" Éomer summarized again, eyes dancing with laughter.
"Yes, I am. I know what I saw, you saw him too. Have not you?" he interrupted. Yes, he was holding the man's wrist, but once he had seen Éomer and his éored, he wringed his hand out of his grip and vanished with a loud crack. What kind of power was this? He heard about the Ishtari, but this man was nothing like them. No wrinkles, not old, no staff, no robes just a dark green cloak.
"Yes, the strange man you held by his wrist with long black hair, the bright green eyes and pale skin." His cousin held his chin between his thumb and forefinger, stroking his beard while he seemed to consider his words, "He could be an elf you know. Have you seen his ears? Were they pointed?" No, he had not thought about that yet.
"No, unfortunately. They were hidden beneath the hair." He answered honestly. All the time he just lay there and starred into his saviors' face. To look at his ears had not come into his mind.
"I have heard of elves, which can heal people and also read minds. One of the most known in the arts of healing is Lord Elrond of the Healing Halls in Rivendell. Maybe it was one of his relatives." Éomer stated shrugging his shoulders. Whatever it was, he was probably happy that at least someone survived.
"What about the winged horse? Is this also a typical elfish ability?" He asked sarcastically. He still had not forgiven Éomer for his earlier laughter.
"No, that was just you hallucinating. You hit your head hard and a lonesome elf found you, healed you and once he saw us vanished into the wood with his elven speed." Sounded logically. But he knew what he saw. He sighed, his cousin could be so stubborn sometimes. But possibly he was hallucinating.
"Let's go Théodred, let's ride back home." He nodded his head unwillingly, he was not thrilled to see his father so fast again. He looked around and felt his heart being stabbed by an invisible sword. They had no time to bury their dead, his éored.
The atmosphere in Edoras was heavy, like the calm before the storm. They could already feel the tension and at once he knew something bad was going to happen. The guards were tense clutching their weapons to their bodies as if ready for an immediate attack or defense. They dismounted their horses and went quickly to the Golden Hall. They had to tell the king about the ambush and the stranger they have seen. But before they could go anywhere near the entrance, Eowyn came running.
"You are okay, cousin. You are okay." She hugged him tightly. "But what happened? It is not that I am not happy, that you are alright, but where are the others. You were victorious, were not you?" she looked him over and frowned.
"No, I am sorry. I am the only one alive. I would have died to, but an elf healed my wounds so that I might survive." He knew that question would be asked. Why was he the only one alive? What happened at the Fords of Isen? Nobody would believe his story about the flying horse turned man who healed him. Even Éomer thought it was just a hallucination. They would probably think that he betrayed his own éored.
"Oh, I am sorry, not I am… I am happy. You know what I mean." She said while releasing him from her hug. At least she did not ask for details.
"You are sorry and sad for all those who have died and happy for me, because I came back to you." He stated surely. He lived most of his live with his two cousins, there were to him like a real brother and sister. She was intelligent and beautiful, and had quite a temper. He was happy to be home alive, it would break his heart seeing Éowyn crying again, because of the loss of another family member. It was already enough that their uncle, his father, did not even recognize her face or voice anymore.
"Yes, exactly. Both of you should go and speak to uncle." She went inside, through the guarded doors, and they followed right behind her. "Your son is back, my lord." Eowyn said kneeling down on one knee before going to their king; his father who stilled looked like before he rode away to death. Long greasy white hair and beard, grey unhealthy skin with countless wrinkles, waxen eyes which seemed to star at nothing at all.
"He was ambushed by Orcs." Éomer informed the king, his voice was reproachful. But his father did not say anything, he just continued to star at them. Was he even able to see them, his nephew, his niece and his own son? The face showed no emotion, no reaction of seeing his son standing there alive when he should have been dead. Théodred hung his head, he did not want to talk to this man, who sat at the throne of Rohan. The betrayal was still too fresh. He decided to stand in the back, Éomer could do the talking.
"If we don't defend our country, Saruman will take it by force." Éomer said angrily, his voice getting louder. He was angry, while the emotionless face just made him feel deep sadness.
"That is a lie." Grima appeared out of the shadows like he usually did. This spy would never be welcomed here, but they could not do anything without having some kind of prove and the last decision was always made by the king which he had under his spell. He felt so helpless. "Saruman the White has ever been our friend and ally." Grima stressed those last two words and moved besides the king.
"Grima." murmured his father, "Grima." he said again leaning his head to Grima's side. Grima knelt down and looked up at Théoden's face, always keeping eye contact with him.
"Orcs are roaming freely across our lands. Unchecked. Unchallenged. Killing at will." Éomer's words seemed to surprise Grima who stood up warily from his position, "Orcs bearing the White Hand of Saruman." Éomer dropped a helmet with a white hand mark on it in front of the king's feet. Now Grima how would you answer to this? The traitor stood still for a moment, thinking about the next thing he could say.
"Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind?" Grima looked back at the king, "Can you not see? Your uncle is wearied by your malcontent… your warmongering." That traitor! He should cut this forked tongue out, so that it might never speak such nonsense again. But his cousin was faster.
"Warmongering?" Éomer was taken aback probably thinking the same things he did only a great deal worse. His cousin pinned Grima to the wall holding him up by the front his cloak, "How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price, Grima? When all the Men are dead, you will take your share of the treasure?" Grima looked at Eowyn who was just leaving the hall. Two guards appeared behind him and hold him down while they continued their conversation. "Too long have you watched my sister. Too long have you haunted her steps." Éomer spat these words at the worm before two guards take hold at Éomer's shoulders separating them.
"You see much, Éomer, son of Éomund. Too much." Grima looked pleased as the guards manhandled both of them down, "You are banished forthwith from the kingdom of Rohan and all its domains under pain of death." What? Without Éomer fighting here, the whole kingdom would fall to ruin. And that was exactly what Wormtongue wanted. Firstly make the king weak and bend his will, send his son, his heir, out there to die, ban the next to be heir out of the lands and then wed the last remaining daughter and become king himself. He snarled. That bastard!
"You have no authority here. Your orders mean nothing." Éomer screamed. He was right, without the king's permission…
"This order does not come from me. It comes from the king." Grima held the signed paper proudly before their faces, "He signed it this morning. And it would be best if you take him with you." Grima pointed at him, "He is also not welcomed here anymore. While his men bravely fought against the Orcs he hid himself away. Do you have no pride?" Grima screamed the last sentence at him. "You are the one who betrayed us! If you do not leave the village now, we will execute you." Grima was smiling darkly. "You have two hours time to pack." And with this the guards threw them out of the golden halls and their former home.
"Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?" The man screamed behind them. They were just through a night of slaughtering Orcs, pilling their corpses, burning them, after being banished by their king from Rohan and were more or less in a real bad mood. Those pests had managed to infiltrate their home to this degree and still thought they would have no resistance while traveling through. How arrogant. Éomer pointed his spear to the left and the whole éored turned circled the strangers. Strangers usually meant spies. They brought their spears out and pointed them at the man, the dwarf and the elf which were standing in the middle of their circle. They raised their hands as a gesture of peace.
Éomer swiftly rode towards them, "What business do an Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?" The three turned to Éomer, "Speak quickly!" His cousin was today also not in high spirits.
And as if the dwarf wanted to agitate him even more he spoke evenly, "Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine." The man beside the short one rolled his eyes. Éomer dismounted his horse showing his displeasure with the whole situation. His cousin walks up to them, the man lays a calming hand on the dwarf's shoulder.
"I would cut of your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground." And that was typically Éomer. The elf did not seem to find this idea very appealing and held an arrow at his cousin's face. Not a very smart move while being surrounded by the 'enemy'.
"You would die before your stroke fell." stated the elf. The éored were immediately ready to attack, all spears pointed again at the strangers.
"Now, now, cousin. Do not be hasty." He said, dismounting his horse next to Éomer. "Let them explain, before killing them. If they truly are spies, then they would be bad ones." With screaming at them 'what news from the Mark' from behind and turning their attention to them. Silly.
The man took this as opportunity to speak his mind, "I am Aragon, son of Arathon. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm." His cousin looked at Legolas; the elf sent a death glare back, "We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king." Éomer looks sullen, like all of the éored around them.
"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." Both of them took off their helms before Éomer continued, "Not even his own kin." Aragon looks surprised, while the spears vanished from their throats, "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands." The three looked at each other, "My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say as an old man hooded and cloaked. And everywhere, his spies slip past our nets." Éomer looked reproachful at them.
"We are no spies." stated Aragon calmly and started to explain, "We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of my friends captive." So that was the reason for them running through Rohan on foot. A noble reason. But they had only bad news for them.
"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night." He told them. Really bad news, he had seen no humans that night.
"But there were two Hobbits. Did you see two Hobbits with them?" Gimli asked hurriedly. Hobbits? What a strange combination. Dwarves and elves usually hated each other and right before him were a Man, an Elf and a Dwarf looking for their Hobbit friends.
"They would be small. Only children to your eyes." Aragon informed them. No, he had seen no children. Could they have killed them?
"We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them." Éomer pointed behind him. Smoke was rising in the distance. Those three looked between surprised, defeated and sad.
"Dead?" Gimli asked his voice shaking. Éomer just nodded. He could understand that his cousin felt bad. There could have been children among the Orcs, the goblins were usually that big. They could have killed their friends accidentally.
"I am sorry." His cousin said and whistled, "Hasufel! Arod!" Two horse slowly trotted to them, "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Farwell." The put their helmets on, mounted their horses.
Before they rode away he said sadly, "Look for your friends, but do not trust hope. It has forsaken these lands. We ride north!"
And they were gone again.
Chapter 03 - Decision
He was such an idiot, a really big idiot, probably the biggest idiot in this new world. In any case he was a bigger idiot than he was back home on earth. How could he be so stupid? He had sworn that he would ignore the world outside his modest tree house and the little part of the forest which surrounded it. He had sworn to not meddle with the people of this world. He had sworn to just mind his own business and nobody else's. Damn his stupid 'saving-people-whatever'… instinct maybe, it was bloody annoying and only got or brought him trouble. There was a reason why he had sworn to himself not to interfere with the people and the actions of said people here, because he would probably cast his peace, his peaceful life, aside and help them. He would fight with them in the war, would lose maybe loved ones and friends and the fame… no, he did not want anymore fame. Just him and his little tree house… Just him and his little tree house. He should think about the important things in his life. Maybe he should redecorate it a little bit. Yes, he should redecorate it! What a great idea! He should just go back and… He turned around in midair in the direction of his tree house.
He should have never left his home. No, he should have just stayed there, still ignoring the outside world. Living a peaceful live without any worry, a blissful ignorant existence. What people did not know, did not matter to them, right? As long as he did not meddle with the happenings around him, he could say he did not know and could continue to do nothing. Living a peaceful life in perfect harmony with nature far away from all those humans and creatures and whatever. He flew some slalom in the air hoping it would help him ignore his latest bout of stupidity.
It clearly was not helping. Oh, his stupid Gryffindor attributes. The Gryffindor curiosity which had leaded his friends and him to the Philosopher's stone and the fight against a Voldemort possessed Quirrell. His people-saving-instinct which lead him to the Chamber of Secrets and the living sixty foot basilisk there and which lead him to the forest clearing in which more than fifty Dementors tried to suck the soul out of his godfather. His Gryffindor stupidity and ignorance which let him participate in the Tri-wizard-tournament like the other Champions even if he could have backed out. His Gryffindor sharing which lead to Cedric getting killed, etc.
He came to this new world, enjoyed himself in the quiet peaceful surroundings of the forest and now he had gotten another time into troubles. He could try to ignore this, he should have ignored this, damn it! Ignore everything around him, ignore the black creatures running under his tree house, ignore the black smoke which had risen in the north, he should have ignored it! But he just went ahead and did everything he should not have. He healed the man, got information out of him, he did not really want to know and now his rational mind was working against everything he did until now!
No, he had to do this. He should just ignore that he healed this young man, Théodred his mind supplied, ignore that he had now so much information about this world, which he did not really want in hindsight, ignore that anything important happened and continue to live his life far far away from all those people. Yes, that would be the right decision, but why was his heart hurting by this very thought? Something was telling him to go and help, but he did not want to.
And then there was this never ending curiosity. He was once more curious and that made things again a whole lot more difficult. He reached a totally new level of complicated. Now that he knew what was happening around him, knew about the war that might end the existence of all humans in Middle Earth and probably also his existence, knew about all those helpless people, men, woman, children and elderly who would die at the hands of Orcs, Goblins, Trolls and Uruk-hai or maybe even one of the Ringwraits, knew that he could help them and knew that he could make a difference somehow. Deep inside of him he knew he could not just sit back and do nothing. He turned around again and flew into the direction of Edoras.
This went against his very nature. He always wanted to help, even if he knew it was just one of Dumbledore's plans, one of his numerous test, he truly wanted to help others. He did not know where this urge came from, he just had it. To help. Help them against the possessed Quirrell, who tried to give his master back his own body. Against the basilisk, which petrified and nearly killed some of the students, and the memory of Tom Marvolo Riddle that tried to take all of Ginny's life energy and therefore end her life. Against the murderer Sirius Black, who was after all this time as much a murderer as he himself was, and he defended later one of his friends against a werewolf and a horde of dementors. Against the toad Umbridge and a fully returned Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic. Against the Dark Lord and his horde of Death Eater and magical creatures. Becoming a healer for his own merits was the first thing he really did for himself. To heal and help himself. And after a while he started once again to help other people. Now he himself was still safe in his little tree house away from harm, now it was time for the other people to be safe. But on the other hand he just wanted peace. Just he and his home. Without a war. Not again a war. He was not ready for another one. And all the fame that came with it.
So he fled. After he healed the young man and looked at his memories a bit, another one and his riders came. They halted before them and looked at him with wide eyes. The man he recognized from Théodred's memories was Éomer and behind him stood his éored. The man could just mutter, "Who are you?" And then he panicked. Really not typical Gryffindor panic, the only thing which was not typical Gryffindor in all those things he did. The only thoughts left in his head were that he had to go; he had to go away fast. He was not ready for any of this. He had to hide, where nobody would find him, where no one could ask him questions. But they saw him and would ask questions. Questions he could not answer at the moment if ever. And the boy, Théodred, saw his animagus form, a black horse with wings, a Pegasus. In his former world it would have been no problem, but in this world they were no flying horses. Big bad black dragons, enormous eagles, really really big elephants and many other funny things but no Pegasus. He was screwed. He just got up and fled the scene. He turned back into the direction of his tree house again.
Through the memories he knew that there are wizards in this world, all in all five persons. And three of them were already far away, travelling into the far East. That only left Saruman the White, the traitor and right hand man of Sauron, and Gandalf the Grey, who was normally quite peaceful and harmless. They could also do magic, but nothing like transfiguration, charms or potion and they needed a staff. So no changing wood into gold, or turning from human into a flying horse or brewing liquid luck or bottling fame. And the Istari were normally wise old man with long hair and beards, each wizard had robes of a characteristic color. White for Saruman, grey for Gandalf, brown for Radagast, and sea-blue for Alatar and Pallando, who were later known as the Blue Wizards. Théodred himself never saw a wizard but his father Théoden, when he was still in the right mind, told him about them. The young man had to be surprised, but he hoped they would just forget him and thing about him as an illusion. Yes, he could live with just being seen as an illusion or better yet a hallucination.
He quickly apparated away into the woods and waited. When he was sure that nobody was around to spot him, he then turned into his animagus form again and flew home. He had to get there fast; he did not want to be seen by anybody else. These people were enough. Once home he would feel save again. Never again would he leave there. Never again. He ignored that he helped the man while flying home and acted like nothing happened while flying to his humble abode. He sighed loudly, which sounded in his animagus form like a snort. Sometimes, he thought, his Gryffindor qualities were just a useless burden to him. Always being curious, this whole people saving thing, always running into situations without thinking first. He should have thought this through more. He could have stunned Théodred, healed him and immediately gone home. But did he do it like that? No, little Harry had to go ahead and more things more complicated. Typical him. And that was exactly why he was a Gryffindor and not a Slytherin.
He should just forget it and fly home. He flew over the beautiful woods along the river downstream to his home. He flew and flew and flew, but no he could not let this war end like this. He turned around again into the direction of Edoras. After saving Théodred he flew home and tried to ignore everything, but it did not really do the job it should have. There he was sitting alone in his quiet tree house, thinking about all those things he learned. The war that could mean the end of Middle Earth, the war that could ruin his peaceful life. Now he hated the peaceful atmosphere of the forest, he had too much time to think, to think about useless things. Just what could he do anyways? He was not a warrior, sure he had wielded the Gryffindor blade against the basilisk a little bit, but that was it. He was no archer or lancer or swordsman or even assassin or anything useful. He was just a simple wizard, just Harry. Nobody else, nobody more. Just what could he do against the hordes of Orcs and Uruk-hai?
But then there was also the question about what all those famers and children could do against them… so in a way he could do more, he could help probably. No, this was not good. He had already started to think about helping them, but he could not get involved. But he could not let all these people die. Maybe he could help more of them survive. He sighed again, after that thought he just knew he could not sit around and do nothing he had to help. So he packed all of his things, shrunk his trunk, changed into his animagus form and flew off. He would help them somehow, but first he had to find them.
From the memories of Théodred the capital was Edoras from which the king ruled. He would go there and look a little bit around. He would stay invisible and avoid any kind of direct contact, but he would help them. He did not want the fame he once had, so he would stay hidden. Nobody would know he was there and he could still help to his heart's content. Yes, that would do and once everything was over, he would return to his tree house and live happily ever after. And so he continued his flight towards Edoras, the capital of Rohan.
Chapter 04 – Saving People
Harry was happy for the ability to turn invisible at will through the invisibility cloak, which somehow merged with his body and magic core. He did not want some stranger see him flying through the sky and alert others of his presence. A big black winged horse flying though the bright blue sky was far to obvious. It took of course magic from his reserves but for some hours he would be aright. He just should over do it like so often in his life back home.
First of all he would go to Edoreas and take a look at Theodred's father Theoden. It seemed like he was controlled by a dark object or under the imperious curse. If he could break it, they might have a fighting chance against the over powering might of the orcs and uruk-kai. The just hoped it was enough. He did not want to fight in another war. He was tired and just wanted peace. Why did he always have such rotten luck? Was he some kind of serial murder in his past life to be punished with this life?
Why always him? Because you have the power to make a difference, said a voice in the back of his mind, which sounded funnily like Hermione. But what about me? Am I not allowed to be happy? Of course Harry, but you were never a passive person. You could never sit still and do nothing. Is not it already time you got up from your lazy ass and done something productive with your time and powers? Probably.
Whoa, he was talking with himself again? Maybe he should talk to others – like in other people – but that was the price he had to pay to life in silence. Sometimes he had found a snake to speak with, but even through they were rather intelligent, they were still animals and had animal instincts and thoughts. Maybe he could talk to someone and then obliviate him, but this probably would not do him any good. He huffed as he continued to fly on autopilot over the mountains following their path to the capital.
Possible future events:
1) Harry flies to the Edoras only to find it deserted. He looks a bit around in the village, finds traces of Dark magic (Saruman) and Light magic (Gandalf). Harry thinks about why it is empty and remembers – in the memories of Théodred – that they would only leave their village when they travel to the Hornburg for protecting from possible attackers. He decides to fly there and maybe even help.
a) He meets the people before they are attacked on the way to the Hornburg. He sees the spies from above and either warns the people or leads a false trail for the spies to follow.
b) He meets the people while they are attacked. Harry still has his invisibility spell on and kicks/kills some of orcs with his hooves while flying over them and then continues to follow the people to the Hornburg.
c) He flies to the Hornburg, where they are already preparing for the war. Either he stays outside the Hornburg or inside while following the leaders.
2) Harry meets them while they are on their way to the Hornburg.
3) Harry meets them while they are already at the Hornburg.
(Note: Fiendfyre would be a good idea to use against the hordes of orcs and uruk-kai.)
AN: STORY IS UP FOR ADOPTION! I have tried to continue writing another chapter, but my motivation just is not working right. I thought that after watching 'The Hobbit' it would go up again and I could write another one, but nothing really happened. I began writing this story when I was continuously watching 'Lord of the Rings' (which was not really healthy) and since I kind of lost interesting in this story, I put it up for adoption.
If someone is interested, just contact me.