Out of the Ashes of the Spirit of Fire
One short story of an odd plot bunny that hit me over christmas. And yes, i am not dead, just mostly writing original fiction right now. I do have several finfics, as well as my Original Stories in progress that may or may not ever be finished. Anyway, on with the story!
Part 1
The reconstruction teams stood on guard as a tall, beautiful red headed male strolled up the main driveway. He was undoubtedly male for all his physical beauty, waist length hair and incredibly graceful air. Ice blue eyes that were enough to make many girls swoon swept the semi-restored destruction though the sculpted face of impossibly perfect proportions showed no expression as far as anyone could see.
As he neared them Harry stepped forward, battle ready and wand out.
"Halt, identify yourself and your reason for being here!" The perfect face stared at him incredulously, with a hint of humour to the expression.
"Who are you to challenge me?" The males asked in a voice as lovely as his visage, an odd melodious lilt to it. Harry resisted the urge to check behind him to make sure none of the girls were swooning. There was a distinct tone of amused disbelief to the question. Harry narrowed his eyes at the male (he was sure this person could not be human – despite a basically human form there was something distinctly inhuman about it – starting with the incredibly perfect beauty).
"I believe I asked first, and am the one holding the weapon." So far the red-head appeared unarmed.
Giving a bark of melodic laughter the male held his hands out in front of him and was suddenly holding a highly familiar sword.
"I am Godric Gryffindor and my reason for being here? I've been travelling for a few yeni and wanted to check up on my castle." He grinned at the gaping teenagers. "And on that note, who are you to challenge me, and what in Eru's name has happened to my castle?"
He smirked slightly at the gaping adolescents, though a part of him wondered and worried that a group of children to his view, seemed as if battle hardened veterans. Men trained their young at an early mage for battle, or they had in years gone by, but even so they rarely seemed as battle hardened as this lot. Then the dark haired boy who was clearly the leader's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Can you prove that claim, because, you know, you are looking damn good for a man who is apparently more than a thousand years old." Gryffindor laughed again, sounding deeply amused.
"A thousand? Closer to nine thousand actually, well if you count chronologically from my birth without subtracting the time I was dead. I spent many yeni in Mandos' halls so I suppose those could be subtracted from that time making my age close to four thousand. And surely the sword is just a bit of a give away?" The black haired boy continued to glare.
"I've seen a fake of it rather recently so..." He sheathed the sword in a magically appearing sheath at his waist, chuckling and shaking his head in amusement. "I would be highly impressed with anyone who truly could replicate the work of the Spirit of Fire." His tone clearly belied that he didn't believe it possible.
"Spirit of Fire?" Asked a curly haired girl beside curiously, though he noted she was also battle ready and armed.
"My thankfully late and totally unlamented father. It was the rather apt translation of his name. Ironic he was killed by a fire demon." The last comment was said somewhat as an amused aside. The girl looked at him with the fire of all too familiar curiosity.
"The books say it is goblin forge." He burst out laughing, having to sit down with the force of the chortles racking his tall frame.
"Oh Valar! What I wouldn't pay to see my father's face if someone told him that." He eventually choked out between near hysterical laughter. After some time the laughter petered off into intermittent chuckles and he rose impossibly gracefully, still grinning with amusement. "Sorry, but that was one of the funniest things I've heard in longer than I can remember."
The girl looked somewhere between curious and offended. It was at that point a much older lady in a sever dress strode authoritatively out of the battered castle and stopped a little behind the group of battle ready teens. Before she said anything the boy who had first addressed him spoke, not looking away.
"He says he's Godric Gryffindor, Professor." She startled and then turned to him, eyes narrowing.
"What is your real name?" The teens seemed to approve of the question, not really understanding what he suspected she was asking. He raised an elegant red eyebrow at her to see if the question was indeed what he thought it was. She smiled tightly.
"And why do you ask me that?" He asked in a quiet voice. She swallowed at the dangerous power in that smooth voice but bravely stared into his icy eyes as she answered him.
"It was a secret passed down amongst the heads of Hogwarts that at some time Godric Gryffindor might return, no older than the day he founded Hogwarts with his three friends. There are certain pieces of information that are part of the secrets of the heads of Hogwarts that can be used to identify if it is the true Godric Gryffindor should he return." He nodded with a smile at the older woman as the teens looked utterly surprised. "So I repeat, what is your true name?"
He bowed his head to her in a gesture of respect.
"I am Maedhros Feanorion, firstborn son of Feanor, Spirit of Fire and second high king of the Noldor. I was the one who willingly gave up the title of High King to my uncle, recognising that I was unsuitable to be King in light of my oath. I am in this world as penance for my crimes in my first life, bound to improve the lives of Mortals wherever I travel in recompense for the many crimes I committed in the name of my father, compelled as I was by his oath, sworn in hatred of Morgoth and Mortals. Upon being reborn and dropped here I made friendship with Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff whom I offered my skills as the heir to the greatest smiths in the history of my people to aid in their quest to build a school which would cause betterment for mortals for many an age to come. I left upon the deaths of my friends to continue my penance around the world and return now to see the state of my first and greatest work, which is, incidentally abominable." The woman snorted with laughter.
"Indeed my Lord Gryffindor. I am sure if you got bored enough you could recite off the rest of the secret information too." He laughed.
"Obviously, but then it wouldn't be secret would it? If one thing we Noldor know its how to keep secrets, we kept them from gods." There was more than one raised eyebrow at that. "It is part of a story to tell in the great hall after good food and drink, in a convivial atmosphere. It looks like some repairs are needed before we can do that though." He said, eyeing the damaged castle.
"How are you still alive though?" Asked one of the group of teenagers, the Maedhros did not turn to see which. "I mean, how can you be nine thousand years old?"
Still examining the castle, he pointed to himself absently.
"Elf. What you would call a high elf. We're not native to this world, to my knowledge, I am the only one. As I said I am here as penance for about five hundred years of seriously pissing off the deities of my world, as well as a few major crimes in there. Apparently killing other elves is seriously looked down on, compelled by magical oath or not." The dark haired boy snorted with laughter. A quick glance showed he had finally lowered his wand, probably at the confirmation he was who he said he was. The bushy haired girl was staring at him as if she couldn't quite believe something. Maedhros quirked an eyebrow ate her, making the girl blush.
"Are you Maedhros Feanorion as in the Silmarillion?" He grinned.
"Muggleborn or raised, am I right?" She nodded, face a little guarded. "Yes. I fought beside a young mister Tolkien during the first world war and shared my life story with him, as well as much of my world. It was fun reminiscing. I was a tad surprised when he published his own record of my assorted rambling as fantasy novels. Pity he was mostly definitely not my brother when it came to writing prose." The girl snorted with laughter.
"Reading the Silmarillion was a bit of a chore. More so than the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. I am guessing you are aware how popular those books are in the Muggle World?" He nodded.
"I am, I also desperately want to send certain elves back some of the pictures you mortals have made of them, just for the laugh of seeing their reactions." The girl snorted and they shared a grin between the baffled humans who clearly were not Tolkien fans. She looked about to ask more questions so he held up his hand and concentrated before speaking a few words in Quenya softly, smiling as the rocks of the battered castle rose up and returned to the place they had been before the Battle of Hogwarts, to the shocked surprise of those there. Broken rocks repaired themselves as the castle restored itself. He grinned at the stunned humans.
"When we were building the castle I reminisced upon the curse the Valar place upon my people upon our revolt, that everything we build would come crumbling down. Salazar felt he didn't want to risk the curse still being upon my reborn self and so we worked an extra layer or magic into the stones as we built. It allowed, upon speaking of the correct phrase in my native language, for the castle to restore itself." They were all still staring at the newly restored castle. The girl managed a question however, something that didn't surprise him at all.
"That must involve a lot of power, hir nin." He outright grinned at the sindarin address.
"The castle is a power sink, amongst other things. All spells cast leave a slight power residue which usually defuses into the atmosphere, creating 'atmospheric' magic. The young are particularly inefficient in their casting, wasting much magic, particularly when learning a new spell, or when emotional. The castle was designed to, instead of letting the excess defuse into the atmosphere, to store it like a battery. There were two parts to this enchantment, one which fuels the wards, another that stored magic for repairs. If the latter were full all power goes into the wards, strengthening them, but if the castle had to use some or all of its magic for repairs then the absorbed magic would shunt to refill that store primarily while keeping enough to keep the primary wards up. That store was further separated up into standard repair and a larger section necessary for magic such as I have just initiated. The former obviously is a continuous thing that needs no initiation, unlike the latter." Hermione was holding on to his every word.
"So there is some sort of set up in the ward stones, or the castle itself, that absorbs extra magic? That must have been quite the enchantment!" She breathed in awe. "Is it just excess magic from spells or are there other ways it gets its magic as well?"
He smiled at her.
"It also absorbs magic produced by all those adolescent temper tantrums that are bound to happen in such a place like this. Before Hogwarts there was often the problem of people being hurt or injured by teenagers loosing their temper and letting out huge amounts of excess, uncontrolled magic. Hogwarts herself absorbs that magic to prevent harm." For some reason all the teens grinned at the boy who had first addressed him. "I sense a story here."
They all laughed.
"Harry more than once lost his temper at school, Admitted he usually had a good reason, though I have to say that effect you mentioned didn't seem to do Dumbledore much good after Harry's godfather died. I hear Harry wrecked his office in that temper tantrum." Maedhros looked at the boy with a grin.
"You must be powerful – though it sounds as if we would get on well. I'm not noted for being a temperate character. Not as bad as my father though, but then again I am not a psychopathic narcissistic spoilt brat with mummy issues so that is no surprise." Harry gave him a jaundiced look.
"You don't sound very fond of him." Maedhros and the girl both snorted.
"My father destroy an entire elven city, killing many of its inhabitants because the king would not give us his ships. He bound my brothers and I in a magical oath from which I still have no relief which led us to slaughter our way through two cities of our own people, commit atrocities and eventually be killed driven by that oath. If he had mummy issues it is probably safe to say I have daddy issues, if rather justifiably." Harry snorted.
"Hir Maedhros?" He turned to the girl who had asked the question with a tolerant smile. "Do the humans of this world count as aftercomers, especially wizards? Because we're not brood of Morgoth or bright Vala, or Elda or Maia. And I don't think we count as aftercomers either, because we aren't in Arda." He stared at her, his eyes going wide, and then his face split into a wide smile of absolute pleasure and he placed a hand over his heart and bowed deeply to her with profound respect. She blushed.
"Your name lady?" He breathed.
"Hermione." Blue eyes shined with the light of the two trees.
"Hiril Hermione, will you say the words?" He asked quietly, eyes fixing the girl in place with their intensity. She nodded before taking a deep breath.
"Maedhros son of Feanor, prince of the Noldor, I absolve you, your brothers and all bound by the Oath of Feanor of said oath to live your lives freely. So mote it be. Valar Valuvar." They all saw a sort of gold glow surround the ancient elf for a moment and he sighed, entire being relaxing minutely. He bowed again to her.
"Hanon le, thank you from the depths of my heart, Lady Hermione. Your words are a gift I cannot repay enough." She had gone bright pink. Everyone else was staring at them. As red haired boy asked first.
"What the hell was that about?" Ignoring Hermione's huffed 'Ron' (he guessed that was the boy's name) Maedhros turned intense icy eyes on the boy who stuttered into silence under the dark regard of the elven prince. Maedhros didn't speak, watching the boy become more and more uncomfortable. After a long while he turned to the group at large.
"My father, after the murder of my Grandfather, first High King of the Noldor by Morgoth, a fallen Valar (my people's gods), and Morgoth's subsequent theft of the Silmarils, my Father spoke a terrible and irrevocable oath, my brothers and I repeating it with him like the naive little fools we were. He made it irrevocable by default of listing in the oath those who could not counter our actions to fulfil the oath. The lady Hermione just pointed out the loop hole my being in this world opens and revoked the oath, not just for me but for all those of us caught in it. It is a most precious gift to me, to be freed of its affects." Hermione both blushed and beamed at the regard she was getting.
"Shall we go inside? I believe the castle should have finished repairing itself."
XXX
That evening Maedhros was holding court in the newly restored great hall, all those who had been helping rebuild the castle, as well as a number who had seemed to appear from somewhere during the time since he had arrived. The house elves of course had been delighted at the return of the founder and somehow had summoned up a feast for them.
It was a convivial atmosphere formed by the contentment of many young with full bellies happily listening to an elder tell them tales of times long gone by and places a long time ago. The Elf Prince was beginning to see why his brother had so enjoyed being an entertainer if his audiences were all like this.
Then there was a blaze of light and a tall figure, even more stunningly gorgeous than Maedhros himself, appeared with a beautiful and wry smile. The elf's expression hardened as he rose to stand, not quite glaring at the new and impressive figure.
"Lord Eönwë. To what do I owe this pleasure?" His tone heavily implied that he wasn't sure that it was indeed a pleasure. The maia just smiled at him.
"We felt the absolving of the oath, and Lord Namo saw in the halls of the dead those that suffer under it change, finally accepting judgement and the healing that comes with it. As such there was much discussion, and it has been decided that your punishment for your transgressions has been fulfilled. You may now return to Valinor I am to inform you." Maedhros stared at him.
"Seriously? Now? Come back in a decade or so. I am needed here right now." Eönwë stared at him in shock. There were several moments of silence.
"Pardon?"
"I have just returned to Britain, the place you sent me to first to lend aid to, to find that the civilisation I helped form, probably the greatest work of my reparations, has all gone to pot due to some meglomaniac. The entire society is in need of rebuilding and my position means I am able to use my considerable influence, and frankly forceful personality, to rebuild it to the society my friends and I had hoped for. I am going nowhere until I am sure this society no longer needs me to mother them back to health. As I said, come back in a decade or so." The maia blinked a few times in shock then grinned boyishly, making the hearts of every female in the room flutter Maedhros noted grimly.
"I see your reparation had more effect than simply repayment. Very well, I will return to this place in a decade to return you to your people." He bowed slightly, bottomless eyes twinkling mischievously as he dropped into Quenya, knowing only the elf understood it. "While you're at it, why don't you see if you can find a wife? That offer of the Valar still stands until you return home."
Maedhros blushed as red as his hair as the maia disappeared. Hermione was staring at him with wide eyes, though everyone else was staring at the space the maia had recently been occupying.
"He's the messenger of the Valar isn't he? And you turned him down, just so you could help wizarding Britain." He smiled softly at the girl, who he was swiftly coming to like, and not just because he felt he owed her. He laughed.
"I have never had much truck with the Valar at the best of times. Telling me to come home when the job is unfinished is clumsy of them at best. They should know me better. Whatever the job, wrong or right, I will finish it." The people in the hall made a sort of agreeing rumble many of the former gryffindors nodding in approval. A man who had been introduced the Maedhros as 'Professor Slughorn' smiled ingratiatingly at him.
"But I am guessing we will not find out what he said that made you blush so, Lord Gryffindor?" Maedhros gave the man a look and curled his lip.
"Nope, I had enough of the Ainur trying to humiliate my family before the rise of the sun and the moon. I have no intention of allowing them to carry on their favourite game." Hermione coughed.
"If Tolkien's work is accurate, that isn't entire fair. You father just didn't like his remarrying and then didn't like them punishing for attacking his brother." Maedhros observed her for a second before throwing out a general question.
"Does she always insist on being uncomfortably right?" The snorts of laughter told him that she was. Hermione looked down and blushed. He could see her wilting sadly and her rose, stepped over to her and lifted her chin so she was forced to look into his eyes. "I did not mean that maliciously, Lady, I simply did not react well to having my prejudices pointed out. It was not personal."
He ran a thumb across her cheek gently looking into her eyes and refusing to let go of her gaze until she nodded.
"Good, I have no intention of hurting you." He kissed her forehead gently before returning to his seat, aware everyone had watched the exchange. He swept eyes over the group piercingly and he let his aura out a little to impress on them a little more. "And any who thinks to tease I would remind you that, no words are just words. Whether you think of them so or not, they can harm and do hurt when flung carelessly, even more so when deliberately. If I find anyone has been hurt by any of you after this warning, I will display that elfin justices is a little more… brutal… than human. I will not be nice." There were serious nods and he thought he had got through to most of them with his warning. Hermione was looking at him with shinning eyes and a small smile. She knew he had been defending her.