Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. If I did I would be rich and not taking prompts offered to me by a fellow fanfiction writer.
A.N. This is my take on an idea presented by huskielover94.
s/9515629/4/Harry-Potter-ideas
This is dedicated to them and I acknowledge the original idea is their's.
Chapter 1:Harry
"What are you doing, Harry?" Harry asked himself as he rounded yet another corner after peering cautiously around it for anyone headed in the opposite direction.
"Don't go up to the fifth guest room on the fourth floor." The order had told him and his friends. The others had listened, shivering at the memory of the last time they had ventured somewhere that was forbidden, but Harry was curious. The order hadn't said what was in the room nor whether it was dangerous or not, they had simply said not to go up to it and Harry's boundless curiosity wouldn't let him leave it at that. He had to know what was in that room.
It couldn't be anything to dangerous, he reasoned, or he would have run into some sort of ward by now. The guest room on the fourth floor was one of the nicer ones. In fact, considering how many dark objects most of the rooms in grimmauld place contained, the guest room on the fourth floor was relatively light with no cursed objects (that they knew of), no doxies and no boggarts. You could say that the only thing dark about it was the dreary black wallpaper. Why give a room like that over to something deadly? They were trying to improve the house not make it worse.
He slowed down when he reached the fourth floor. It wasn't a floor that saw frequent visits which had allowed the dust to build up like snow, despite the recent cleaning it had had courtesy of Mrs Weasley. It was eerily quiet during the night and Harry, unused to long desolate halls that didn't have a talking portrait or wandering ghost in them, found his resolve to find out what was in that room diminish slightly. Curiosity killed the cat and the like. Despite his fear, Harry found himself replying out of instinct. "Satisfaction brought it back again."
"You've come this far." He muttered, gathering up what was left of his curiosity and dipping deep into his store of gryffindor courage.
He continued down the hall counting the doors as he passed them, trying desperately to ignore the echo of his footsteps as they shattered the silence.
The doors on this floor were all painted in varying shades of desolate grey from Mrs Weasley's attempt to paint over the old black paint with a fresh white shade. It had worked at first but at some point whatever spell the Blacks had cast on their house had taken effect and the previous colour had started to bleed through.
"Fifth guest room, fourth floor." Harry stopped at the appropriate door and grasped the knob. He pushed the door open slowly, wincing as the old hinges creaked anyway despite his efforts.
What he was expecting to see, Harry wasn't sure, but he knew it wasn't anything like the sight he was currently beholding.
The room, decked out in greys and blacks just like the rest of the house, seemed to be filled with an ethereal glow radiating out from the figure slumbering quietly in a queen sized bed. The figure hadn't stirred despite the loud banshee-like squeal of the hinges but Harry found himself holding his breath and moving forwards on his tip toes anyway.
He approached the bed cautiously, eventually coming to a stop next to the head where he took the time to register the sight before him.
The man lying under the covers looked like an angel straight from heaven. Hair the colour of golden sheaves of grain spread out over the pillows like a halo almost, but not quite, concealing ears that ended in a slight but definite point.
Pale skin was unwrinkled and youthful but at the same time it seemed stretched and was an unhealthy white as if he hadn't been in sunlight for months, maybe years.
He would be about 6'1'' if he stood as far as Harry could tell. If it weren't for the goblins fixing the result of years of malnutrition, the mysterious male would have easily dwarfed Harry with his old height of 5'5''. Thankfully that was in the past and he now stood at 6'5.
Harry jumped slightly when he noticed the males open eyes, fearing he had perhaps woken him up at some point, but calmed slightly when he noted the lack of movement and the slight haze that clouded storm grey eyes.
What was this man (for calling him a creature wouldn't have done him justice), Harry wondered, that he slept so still and quietly with his eyes open? Harry prided himself on having quite good knowledge when it came to magical creatures, it had been necessary for many of his adventures and both that hands on experience and some in depth studying into them during his preparations for the triwizard tournament last year had led to him giving some serious competition to Hermione for 1st in care of magical creatures, but, even with his perfect memory, he couldn't remember having heard of anything that matched this statuesque male's description.
Harry sank into a chair positioned next to the bed, content to watch this male sleep with a fascination that would probably come across as stalkerish to anyone who happened upon the scene.
He didn't know how long he sat there, thinking, wondering, his eyes never straying from the enigma in front of him. He kept himself busy trying to figure out the man's tale. He was probably here as a result of the order's most recent raid on Voldemort. The timing was about right and it certainly explained why they had come back looking so hassled despite the victory they later spoke of. He wondered where the male was from, what he was, how he came to be in Voldemort's possession.
He looked up sharply and abandoned his thoughts when the male moaned in his sleep and started to shift in his sleep. He didn't know where he had seen it, but Harry had read that moaning in your sleep could be a scream inside a dream and he had suffered enough nightmares to know that shifting suddenly and often whilst sleeping could mean that the dreamer was either trying to avoid or runaway from something. He frowned. He didn't like seeing anyone going through a nightmare that made them scream and try to runaway and he especially didn't like seeing someone like this male going through one but he had no idea of what to do. When he was growing up there had been no one there for him when nightmares had struck. Even when they had gotten more frequent after his repetitive encounters with his parent's killer, he had been left to wake up by himself and deal with the aftermath by himself.
Should he wake the male up or leave him be and see if he he calmed down by himself? In the end, the sleeper took the decision from him jolting awake with a gasp and bolting forwards suddenly.
It was as though someone had suddenly hit the play button on a paused video. The now awake male curled in on himself, grabbing his knees and pulling them tightly into his chest making himself as small as possible, waiting for some sort of blow and when it didn't come he released the breath he had been holding in a shaky sob and Harry realised with a start that large pearl-like tears had started to roll down the angular face, dripping off of his pointed chin to land on the sheets that had pooled around his waist when he had lurched forwards.
Harry's heart leapt in sympathy for the distraught man in front of him who was starting to remind him painfully of himself when he was younger. Unsure of what to do he lent forward awkwardly and started to rub circles soothingly on the shorter's back.
The other tensed at the sudden, unexpected and unknown hand suddenly rubbing his back but the sobs didn't stop, continually exiting his body with enough force that it left his long, frail form trembling like a leaf.
"Shhh. It's okay, nothings going to hurt you. Your safe." He soothed quietly. The sobbing male relaxed as Harry continued to utter nonsense words and reassurance into his ear. Eventually the tears completely stopped leaving behind only the occasional sob.
"Wh-" The male stopped as another sob escaped his body before trying again. "Who are you?" This time he managed to finish his question without stammering or breaking into a sob.
"Harry." He missed off his last name. He didn't want something like one of Dobby's outbreaks, the small over excitable house elf would probably burst into another round of tears if he thought he had been crying on 'The great Harry Potter's' clothes. Admittedly Dobby was a special case but better safe than sorry. "Who are you?" He asked in turn.
"L-l-legolas." He stammered before succeeding in composing himself enough to get a complete answer out. "Legolas Greenleaf."
Harry opened his mouth to ask something else but was interrupted by a third voice.
"Ah, I see our mysterious young guest is awake. Welcome my boy. Good evening Mr. Potter." Professor Dumbledore smiled merrily, despite having just caught one of his students disobeying an instruction. Harry had the decency to blush under the twinkling gaze of his mentor, realizing he had been caught despite his efforts to avoid just that.
"Good evening, Professor." He turned to Legolas who had cowered back slightly at the sudden appearance of the elderly man, who was currently wearing fluorescent pink pyjamas with little rainbows embroidered on them. "Legolas, this is Albus Dumbledore. Headmaster at the Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry."
"Nice to meet you." Legolas greeted having recovered from his surprise and fear.
"Now, Harry, as much as I'm sure Mr. Greenleaf is enjoying your company, you should probably go and get some rest. You have a trial coming up after all." Harry grimaced at the reminder.
"Can I see him again, Sir?" He asked as his professor started to steer him back towards the door and away from the mysterious individual on the bed. The headmaster smiled in a way that made Harry suspect his request had been expected.
"If Mr. Greenleaf so wishes then I see no reason why not. Good night, My Boy."
"Goodnight Professor." Harry sighed realising there was no point in trying to stay any longer. Not with Dumbledore around.
#
In the end, Harry didn't get any sleep as instructed. Instead he sat in a ball on his bed in the guest room he shared with Ron, staring out of the dark and dusty glass whilst listening to the familiar rumbling snores of his companion.
His thoughts stayed Legolas in his room on the fourth floor as minutes turned into hours and his unblinking gaze remained on the slowly brightening sky outside. Would Dumbledore really allow him to see the male again or had that just been false assurance to get him out of the room without complaint? And would the blonde actually want to see him again or was that just wishful thinking? They didn't really know each other so Legolas wouldn't really have any reason to want to see him there was no point in getting his hopes up.
Dawn came slowly for Harry but he was grateful when the first ray's of pale morning sunlight finally breached the room and roused him from his circling thoughts.
It was another hour before the rest of the household started to stir and by that time Harry was fully dressed and moving around, much to the surprise of everyone who normally had to stand by him and Ron whilst shouting in their ears before they even started to stir.
"Your up early." Hermione had remarked when she came into the kitchen with Ginny to find him digging into a large English breakfast, which Mrs. Weasley had just deposited in front of him. He had just shrugged in reply, not willing to sit through the lecture he knew he would receive if he explained why exactly he had been up before anyone else in Grimmauld place.
The morning continued in a similar fashion, with every other person to come into the kitchen making some remark about how he was up far earlier than normal. By the time it was Ron's turn to display his surprise he was getting quite sick of it.
He knew he wasn't the earliest to rise when he could help it, years of getting up at six to prepare the Dursleys their breakfast meant he didn't waste the opportunities for a lie in when they came, however, he wasn't usually the last to wake up and he certainly didn't think he warranted this sort of reaction when he did get up early.
It was after Sirius came into the kitchen that Harry finally had enough and grabbed what was left on his plate before storming off. Part of him wanted to go up to Legolas and see if he would like any company but he decided to do as he was told for once and, instead of going up the stairs, he tiptoed past the covered portrait of Wolburga Black and exited out in to Grimmauld place's magically enlarged yard.
There was no grass, only cement tiles with weeds growing in between the cracks, and grey clouds hung low in the sky threatening to rain but the yard was still a massive improvement to the bleak, cramped, atmosphere inside and the patronising people Grimmauld housed. Growing up inside a cupboard had left him feeling uncomfortable in any space that was dark and cramped., so he much preferred to be outdoors where everything was open and there was usually some sort of light. He couldn't imagine what living in this hell hole must be like for Sirius who had spent ten years in a cell that was ten times as bad as his cupboard with the dementors that stood guard in the prison only making things worse.
There was another reason Harry was out in the yard. A small dilapidated dog house was stood in one corner of the yard, a gaping hole in the side patchily filled in with planks of wood. Through the arched hole in the side that served as an entrance, Harry could see a shock of coal black fur that drifted and curled like smoke of its own accord. A sight of this had been enough to keep the others out of the yard for the whole holiday, especially when the creature had been identified as a shadow wolf, a rare breed of wolf that sold for a killing on the black market and was highly illegal because of how dangerous they were, especially when hungry, but Harry wasn't scared.
He'd never been scared of animals and the creature staying in the Black families yard had been no exception.
He approached the dog house and the softly snoring ball of fluff and placed the leftover bacon from his breakfast next to the entrance and sat back on his heels to watch. The snoring stopped as soon as he his hand had been removed and a small shiny black nose appeared from somewhere in the furled fur, sniffing at the air for a moment before it was followed by a fluffy black snout, eerie large red eyes and small black ears that swivelled on a downy head.
The wolf pup yipped at him in greeting as it sat up, before it pounced on the bacon and started to shake it viciously with it's mouth, assuring itself that it's prey was well and truly dead before gulping it down in a few short bites.
When it was finished it looked at him hopefully, it's tail wagging happily as it scented the air for any more strips.
"No I don't have any more, greedy." He admonished, laughing when the puppy whined. "You can have some more at lunch." He picked up the unprotesting wolf and placed him in his lap where he proceeded to stroke a hand through the short, wispy, fur coat. "You won't believe who I met last night," Harry told the wolf, not bothered in the least that his audience was an animal. "His name's Legolas Greenleaf." He went on to explain to the listening wolf all about the mysterious individual staying in the guest room on the fourth floor.
Harry liked speaking to animals. They listened when he spoke and didn't try to correct him when he gave an opinion on a matter. In fact, they didn't say anything at all unless it was really important. Harry liked to think that the animals he talked to understood him as well as he understood them. He didn't understand them word for word, of course, animals didn't really have a language. When they needed to communicate they did it through pitch and actions rather than trying to convey what they meant through sentences. Out of the two options, Harry much preferred the animal's way of speaking. There were no long lectures, no pointless chatter and no beating around the bush whilst trying to find the best words to convey what you wanted to say.
"Ah, Harry, my boy." Harry was interrupted in his recounting of last nights events by his mentors exclamation. He turned to face the elderly professor, keeping one hand in the puppy's fur where he had been idly scratching behind one of it's ears. The young shadow wolf wasn't fond of the brightly clothed man who was sometimes seen with a phoenix perched on one shoulder and who smelt of sugar and lemons. The headmaster had changed out of the pyjamas and was now wearing sky blue robes with smiley faces sown into the hem. In his hands he held a tray bearing a steaming bowl of porridge and a plate of buttered toast which Harry eyed curiously. "I was wondering if you might be as kind as to carry a heavy tray up to our guest on the fourth floor for an old man. I fear that it would be to heavy for myself to carry and I do not have the time to sit by him as he eats." He held out the tray imploringly. Seeing an opportunity to visit the object of his curiosity, Harry didn't point out that the headmaster could just use a levitation charm. He also ignored the annoying twinkle present in the sapphire blue depths of the headmaster's eyes.
He placed the wolf in back in his house before standing and accepting the tray, starting to head back to the house before he paused.
"Sir?
"Yes, my boy?"
"What is he, anyway?"
"An elf, but obviously not of the same breed as a house elf." Dumbledore replied and with that he left Harry to his task.