Disclaimer:
I own nothing. The Silmarillion is the property of J.R. R Tolkien ~ RIP. Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling. Anything recognizable is most likely not mine. I take credit for any plot editing. The attempt at copying the style of the Silmarillion is intentional as this is where the story begins. No money is being made from this. This is a work of fanfiction; made by a fan, for fans.

Therein, Ilúvatar brought the Ainur from their place viewing Eä, to that place wherein He was to be found most often. For there they were shown the throne room of Ilúvatar. There it was that they were shown the seat of power of Ilúvatar. Here also was where it was that secret truth was shown to the Ainur.

Therein the throne room of Ilúvatar there were but two seats, the first being the thrown of Ilúvatar. Yet down only by a step and slightly to the right was another seat. This too was a thrown, though where Ilúvatar's was grand, this seat was of simple make and humble. This seat had a power about it, and from it radiated powers both new and old, known and unknown. It was unknown to the Ainur who it was to sit in this place, for although many things were revealed to them, there was much that Ilúvatar had not yet chosen to reveal unto them.

Then it was that once more Ilúvatar spoke to the Ainur.

"Of this place, it is the one alone where all children of mine are to be welcome. See you before yourselves this terrible truth. At a time, there is to be one where you, the Ainur, are one, but this one will not be you all, and shall be its own existence. To this one shall be given power over the Great Music, and this one shall take the Flame Imperishable, and be both made of and part of. For this one alone shall be like I am, given time this one might stand in my stead for a time."

In the passing of that which was named time, events passed as they were sung of within the Great Music. Eä, the world that is, was formed. There was peace, but with this peace came conflict. Melkor, named latter as Morgoth began his rebellions against Ilúvatar and the Great Music, but in this way, he fulfilled that which was foretold of in the Great Music. In the passing of time, Morgoth fell and was forever cast from Eä. In his stead, his apprentice in darkness, Sauron the Black rose and took the place of his master.

The soldier ran onwards, knowing that his life was to be ending soon. He, like many others, joined that great army. Some were calling it the Last Alliance of Men and Elves. They had pushed deep into the land of the enemy. They were near to the very gates of Barad-dûr. Not far behind him was a small group of orcs that had been separated from Sauron's main force. More than that however, was that which he truly feared. Behind him was one of Sauron's phantom lieutenants, a Nazgûl.

He heard the foul creature release a wail behind him. They were closing in on him. The foul creature wailed again and, being closer, the power of fear within its wail worked on the soldier. The soldier ran on still, no longer watching where he ran to. Soon he was met with a dead end in the rocky cliffs he was running under. The soldier turned then to face those that hunted him. They were on him within a minute. Drawing his sword from its hilt, he readied to fight these orcs.

The leader was on him first, the brute wielding a battle axe forged in the hideous way all weapons from Mordor were forged. In the orc's haste, its defence was lowered and the soldier could strike at the orc first, sidestepping the first blow. The orc took a grazing along its unprotected left side. Without missing a beat, the soldier spun and ran at the still charging orc. He feigned a swipe towards the legs followed by a lunge. The orc, falling for the trick never realized the true danger until its head was removed and the creature's black blood stained the sword of the soldier it had thought as easy prey.

Then it was that the Nazgûl advanced on him, wailing and chilling his blood and freezing his heart. While the soldier was good, the Nazgûl easily outclassed him. He was soon disarmed and closed his eyes praying to whichever god or goddess would hear him. Even with his eyes closed, he saw the world light up around him. He waited for the killing blow. It never came.

Slowly the soldier opened his eyes. Standing there before him was what seemed a child, though in these times the child would probably already be considered a man. This child stood near one and a half meters tall. The child was a male, and was quite skinny. The eyes of the child were greener than any emerald a dwarf could ever hope to find. The child was pale, near white and from within came a slight glow. Topping the child's head was a mess of hair as black as midnight.

"Greetings, child of men." This stranger said to him. The soldier looked around hastily, fearing for more orcs to fall upon them. They were, however, alone and the sound of the ongoing battle seemed far away. The soldier ran past this stranger, warily looking for the foes that so recently surrounded him. When the stranger spoke again, and this soldier was compelled to look.

"Those that would hunt you were soon become the hunted. Long have these days been, a winter for the free peoples of Middle Earth. Be ye healed and made strong, ere you fall before your task is done." Saying this, the stranger raised an arm and pointed at him. The stranger began muttering in some foreign tongue, and slowly the hand pointed at him began to glow a faint white. After a moment, the light rushed from the stranger's hand and surrounded the soldier.

With that the world was flooded with white light once more. The sound of battle surrounded the soldier. This soldier went on towards the heart of the conflict, he felt something drawing him there. As he got there he saw his king doing battle with Sauron himself. Sauron got a hit in with his mace and the king's body was thrown near him. He rushed to the king's side, but little there was that he could do.

Isildur took his father's blade even as Sauron stepped on it. The blade was broken. Sauron was reaching for him. There on his hand was the One Ring. Isildur reacted, swinging the sword that was broken wildly. By chance of luck, he removed Sauron's hand. Having poured much of his power into the One Ring, the sudden removal of the One Ring from his living person caused Sauron's power to be broken.

The battle ended swiftly, the enemy being routed to dark holes and caves where they would stay for some time. Yet some survived. Isildur was ambushed on the return to his kingdom and was killed trying to flee the battle. There, in the Great River, the One Ring was lost for time out of mind. From there Smeagol would one day claim it as his birthday present after he murders his brother, for the malice of the ring had already begun to corrupt him. Smeagol would go on to be called Gollum, and, thanks to the power of the One Ring, his life was greatly extended.

AN:
So, this is my first real attempt at writing a crossover, and a fanfiction in general. I wonder who the kid is... ;) ;) (read: Character 1) As a general heads up:
a.) Don't know whether this is past, present, or future.
b.) How often I'll be able to write (college student life.)
c.) Harry will be OP. This is intentional, obviously. If that is not your cup of tea, thanks for at least reading this chapter, and I'm sorry I can't keep you. If an OP Harry is your cup of tea, we are like minded individuals.
d.) Read, review, rate, follow. Those are all cool and stuff. Haters are going to hate, but for those who appreciate: *insert Titanium music video*

AN2 EDIT:

Okay, so I don't know wtf happened with the formatting, it was not that bad before I uploaded the doc. Apologies to all who had to struggle through that, and I hope that the issue has been resolved.