How the elves became enslaved, a Historical Harry Potter fanfiction.
In many ways house elves have stronger magic than the wizards they serve. So why are they slaves? This fic covers elf enslavement, the creation of the Elder Wand, and where dementors may have come from. The world belongs to JKR Rowling and the characters here are ours.
Hugin/Munin of Jekyllhydeclub
Prolog:
The year is 338 AD. A bard plays a mournful dirge, using magical amplification to carry her words so that they might spread over the entirety of the two recently united kingdoms. The people needed to be warned, and this was the only way she had to do it in such a short amount of time.
The kingdom ruled by humans had only united these past six months with its neighbor, who happened to be ruled by elves. And now...only the gods above and perhaps some below knew what would become of either.
As Anika stood singing, the notes of her harp filling the space around her and expanding outward while she spun an eerie melody, beloved friends and family fell dead around her. She knew she would soon follow. Best get this done fast. Though it couldn't be rushed too much, the notes had to be melodious and full of dire warning while remaining haunting. They had to be remembered, after all. Panic gripped her chest, but her voice emerged anyway, clear, high, and flawless.
"In a far away time, in a forgotten place,
A man and an elf are in a deep embrace.
They should know it's against the law!
It must have been before the war...so long before..."
She opened her mouth to sing words of hope, that love was the key to the freedom from this as much as it had been the curse, for this song had to warn generations to follow. This was the far away time and place of which she spoke, and they needed to remember...Future generations needed to remember, but the killing curse struck her in the back before she could complete the warning.
The bard gasped, harp falling from her slender hands, red hair falling over her face as she toppled forward to land beside a small blonde woman, and a couple who were still embracing as though to shelter one another from what had come...from what they both knew could not be stopped.
The man had shoulder length black hair, a haughty face and a slender build. He wore a locket who's stone still glowed green with protective magic that had not been able to save him. The elf in his arms was somewhat taller than those who would serve wizards after this historically damming day. His nose was hooked, and his expression tight with hatred and rage as his now lifeless eyes glared sightlessly up at those who had struck him down.
An elf, dressed in finery no future elf slave would ever ever find himself in cowered behind an ornate pillar, long thin fingers clasped as he watched the destruction in horror. Another stone pillar near by crashed to the ground, causing him to start. They were destroying the entire castle!
He had to go. He could no longer aid his king because his king lay dead. Grand vizier he had been only this morning, but now he had no title, no king and no castle to call his home. Only death or worse to look forward to. Worse most likely, for the tall hooded figures that floated so eerily just above the ground were only killing wizards and goblins while the elves they managed to capture were only restrained, tied, bound and then handed over to the enemy.
No, there was nothing to be done here. All was lost and more than lost. Elder choked on a sob as he turned to flee.
This actually the end. In chapter 1 we will go all the way back to the beginning to explain how such devastation came to be. The song quoted here was inspired by Sight and Touch by Chris Deburgh.