CHAPTER 1

7 Years Later

Harry Potter pushed his black hair out of his eyes absent-mindedly as his teacher droned on about the laws of Goblin culture. Sunlight shone through the open window alluringly, illuminating a sloping hill that lead to the great gates separating the elfin city Aalyyra from the human world. They glowed like liquid in the bright sunlight, made of pure gold given to the elves by the goblins, who lived in the mountains around Aalyyra. Those same mountains were hazy purple against the bright blue sky, graying with distance. Pale flowers waved around the window in the captivating breeze that wafted their scent into the classroom.

Harry was distracted from his abstract daydreaming when the gates creaked open. He shot up, his professor also turning to observe the opened gate. Elves poured through it, among them a figure bound in the silvery-glinting living chains used to hold prisoners locked up. Harry hurried through the door, running down the hill to meet up with the group. They spotted him and placed their free hands over their hearts. All of them had a link to the chains in one hand, meaning that the prisoner was extremely dangerous. The living chains wound around the form of a young girl of about fourteen. Black hair cascaded silkily from her head, blocking her face from sight.

"Who is this?" He gestured towards the girl, speaking in elfish.

"An Assassin sent to kill you, prince." The leader said in a hoarse voice. Harry eyed the girl. She still hadn't raised her head, though the air she carried herself with was proud and not submissive in the least. The sheen in her hair was violet, and pointed ears poked out from the silky-straight strands.

"You did well to catch her." A deep voice said from behind him. Harry turned to see his friend, Kirk, behind him. He was several years older than Harry and several times thicker in the shoulders and chest. His dark brown hair was thickly covered by soot; he was one of Aalyyra's best smiths and kept busy by orders for swords and weapons along with other metal work. He smiled at Harry and ruffled his hair with a huge hand before turning back to see the girl.

"Fuck, she's an elf!" He exclaimed. At this, Harry saw the prisoner's lips quirk upward into a smirk, before settling back to a blank expression.

"If it comforts you any, I'm not a full-blood elf at all." This came from the prisoner, with an air of nonchalance.

"Then what the hell are you?" The girl raised her head with a smirk. Slanted violet eyes rimmed by dark lashes, milky-white skin, full blood-red lips, and perfect features, she was beautifully inhuman and yet, not elfin either. A fang slipped over her lower lip to gleam in the sun, the ivory color at odds with her mouth.

"I'm an experiment." She said in a matter-of-fact voice as the Elves pulled her away. She went along with them, not struggling, but still looking intimidating despite that and her bound hands.

"Who is she?" Harry asked for the fifth time that night. The woman that had taken him from his relatives all those years ago walked beside him in the gardens, whose wafted fragrances went ignored by the impatient thirteen-year-old. The woman, Rilla, just shook her head.

"She won't say a word. We can't even get her name from her, only that she was ordered to do this, though by whom I have no clue."

"She said she was an experiment."

"She may very well be. Those humans are toying with things that shouldn't be played with. It wouldn't surprise me if they are now experimenting with themselves."

"But she was sent to kill me; she said so herself, and the humans don't know about us," Rilla shook her head, a frown marring her forehead.

"And that's where all of us are stumped." Rilla admitted with a sigh, referring to the rest of the Council, which she was a member of. They made the major decisions and laws until Harry ascended the throne. "If she was sent by the humans, than why does she have elfin blood? If she was sent by an elf, who? There are thousands of questions and the girl isn't answering any of them, just making more. It's so confusing!" She turned to Harry and smiled. "But we've talked enough about that. How were your lessons today?"

"Oh, um, they got interrupted, so I got to practice the rest of the afternoon." Harry admitted a little sheepishly. He loved to do weapons practice, but disliked his laws and history lessons. He had convinced his teacher to allow him to practice, instead of learn about the goblin legal system by saying he could no longer process it that day, which was true, but he had never exactly paid attention in the first place. Rilla laughed and ruffled his hair good-naturedly. He smoothed it and shot her a look. Why did everyone always seem inclined to ruffle his hair? He was thirteen, no longer a child. Rilla just smiled at him fondly, her own blue-green hair in a pony-tail at the nape of her neck. She pulled the teen to her side with a motherly arm around his shoulders.

"What am I going to do with you? Taller than me, skipping lessons to practice swordplay, and next thing you know, you'll be courting girls, left, right and center." She squeezed his shoulder affectionately. "It seems like just yesterday you were tall as my waist, and asking about everything," Harry blushed a little, remembering those days well. Though the times just before them were hazy, those days were as clear as the moon in the cloudless sky before him. He remembered only a horsy-faced woman with a shrill voice, a walrus-like man, and a fat blond pig (which must have been his cousin) as his relatives. He sighed, wishing he could remember his parents instead. Rilla picked up on his down turned thoughts and pressed a kiss to his forehead comfortingly.

"Come on, Harry, let's go home," The teen nodded and they headed off towards the small house they shared, under the waning moonlight.

"Please?"

"No, Harry, she was sent to kill you, it's too dangerous," Rilla sighed. It was a week later, and Harry wanted to go visit the girl to see if she would say anything to him to answer any of their questions.

"Please? We're a similar age, so she might answer me better," Harry turned his best puppy-dog face on her. Rilla turned away. She could never resist that face.

"Don't look at me like that! All right, but only once, and there has to be a guard there, okay?" Harry nodded.

"Let's go then," Rilla's sigh melted into a fond smile.

He really knows me too well, She reflected amusedly as they went down the path closer to the prison where the still nameless girl was being kept. Looking towards the building, she sighed again. It was forbidding, though darkly beautiful. The guards at the entrance bowed their heads and placed their fists over their hearts when Harry approached, their other hands ready on the hilt of their swords. They entered the marble front hall, Harry looking around through the corner of his eyes at everything. The staircase that lead to the prisoner's room was at the back of the intimidating hall, giving the young prince plenty of time to examine the marble doorways guarded by goblins or elves with large weapons. They all placed their hands over their hearts as the two passed. Harry straightened his shoulders a little and raised his chin the slightest bit. Rilla smiled forlornly, thinking with no fondness on the days to come when he would have to rule over all these people as their king. He seems so young… But I'll be there too, she promised herself and him.

Up the dark staircase and down one hall was the prisoner's room. The Elf guarding the door was the same one that had lead the group that had captured the assassin a week ago, and he placed his hand over his heart before grinning at Harry. A pale scar ran across his left eye as a testimony of the battles he had fought. Harry grinned back at the tall figure despite himself.

"Can he go in?" Rilla gestured to the door. The Elf, who Rilla knew as Horlen, seemed to consider it.

"Sure. Can't hurt if I stay here though, eh?" He chuckled a little. Rilla nodded in relieved agreement. The Elf pulled a key from his pocket. The door clicked open when he pressed it into the indent at the center to reveal a dark, gloomy room with a single window set into the far wall. The light fell onto the form of the assassin, who was running her fingers through a strand of her hair repetitively. Her head was tilted back against the wall, her eyes on the window high above her. She remained focused on the window, even when Harry entered the room and stood uncertainly by the opposite wall.

"So, the Princeling has come to visit. You are here for information?" Her eyes still had not looked at Harry. Harry could see that the pupils were slit, like a cat's.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"You will not get it," She informed him. Silence stretched in the cell.

"Why did you try to assassinate me?" The ghost of a smirk flitted over her lips.

"Telling you would be disclosing information."

"But don't you think I have a right to know why someone tried to kill me?"

"We don't always get what we have a right to."

"It's different here, in Aalyyra."

This caught the assassin's attention. She finally looked at him, though her head did not turn. "Even Paradise has flaws. You will see that the outside world is not as righteous as Aalyyra."

"Who says that I'll ever have to go to the outside world?" Harry challenged childishly.

"You are to be King, are you not?" The assassin raised her eyebrows with a slight smile. Blood rushed to his face and he turned slightly to hide his embarrassment. Of course, the King of all the Elves would have to be familiar with the human world, and the best way to become familiar was to visit. He went silent, pondering this, until the assassin spoke up.

"You wouldn't happen to be able to get me a comb and a clasp, would you? It would be much appreciated." She eyed her hair, which was so long that it pooled on the floor around her. An idea struck Harry.

"Sure, but," Harry continued slyly, "You have to tell me your name first." I'll start small, and ask for something more each time.

The assassin considered it, then nodded and sighed. A smirk settled on her features. "Sneaky, Princeling. Maybe you have some brain in you after all. But, I have to have the brush here first." Harry nodded, not thinking it such a horrible request. He walked out and closed the door behind him. Rilla and Horlen looked at him expectantly.

"She wants a comb and a clasp, and then I'll get something out of her." Horlen's eyes brightened and he grinned at Harry. "Right away, Prince!" He hurried away after pressing his hand to his heart.

Rilla looked troubled. "What information will she volunteer for hair supplies?"

Harry sighed. "Just her name, but it's a start, right?" He flicked a hopeful smile at his teal-haired guardian.

"Right."

"Here." Harry threw her the clasp and comb. She caught them almost before he could see her hand move and looked over them. They were good quality items, and Harry hoped that would help. Sensing his expectant stare, she turned her gaze onto him.

"They call me Moonblade, because of the blades I carry and this scar." She turned her head so that the side facing the wall was visible to Harry. A blue line in the shape of a crescent moon hung in the lower corner of her left eye, like a tattoo. "It's blue because the knife used to make it was imbued with poison when I was scarred. I believe that answers your question, and more."

"But it's not your name," Harry protested.

"That is a matter of opinion."

Sensing that she wasn't going to speak any more, Harry retreated and slammed the door behind him, in a bad temper. Rilla looked up expectantly as he approached.

"Well?" Horlen asked.

"She says they call her Moonblade, because of her swords and some weird scar she has, but won't tell me her real name."

"She'll come around," Rilla consoled. Harry simply glared at the closed cell door.

"Why did they send you?"

Harry was on one of his many visits to the cell where Moonblade was kept. He had asked fruitless question after fruitless question, but Moonblade had refused to answer. Horlen, the usual guard of the door, teased Harry often about having feelings for the silent assassin, but Harry merely shook his head. She was an exquisite creature, to be sure, but if he had had any feelings for her in the first place, they would have been frozen by her cold attitude.

Like now, where she simply ignored him. He wasn't even sure if she had actually heard the question.

"Hello?" He called. Her eyes focused on him, her eyebrow cocked inquisitively. "Why did they send you?"

"Because I am the best assassin they have. They want you dead pretty bad."

"How bad?" Who the hell were these people?

"Bad enough," She answered simply. "I was paid well enough as things go,"

"Who the hell would pay for my death? Besides the King stuff, I'm not important, and if you came form the human world, no one even knows of the elves there."

"Are you so certain?"

Harry sputtered. "Well of course I'm certain. I mean, the elves haven't had contact with the humans for centuries! Humans don't live that long, right?" he asked a little uncertainly.

"Not Naturally."

"What do you mean?"

"There are ways…" She hesitated. "But…"

The word hovered in the air like thick, sweet smoke.

"But what?" Harry asked eagerly. She usually didn't offer information straightforwardly.

"They do not want you for your kingship. There are plenty of potential replacements to be found in the nobility."

"Then why would they be desperate to kill me?" Harry lowered his voice. "I haven't been much of a threat to anybody."

A smirk flickered over her lips. "Ask your guardian, Rilla, I believe, for the story of your past, and you will see."

Confusion flared in Harry's mind. "What could I have done that would call for an assassination?"

"Ah, but it not just your past that they are looking at, Princeling; they also are taking a look into the future."

Dipping her quill in the sapphire-blue ink that was her signature color, Rilla overviewed her long overdue letter.

Dear Professor Dumbledore;

You requested that I update you on Harry's well-being and progress since he has been in our care. I have finally found the time to grant this request, and I apologize for the late timing. Much has occurred in Aalyyra and Harry has turned thirteen recently, making this the seventh year he has been here. He has gained many friends among his classmates and some above him in age. His studies are proceeding well, but, unfortunately, he enjoys his physical and magical studies much more than his written studies. I find myself wondering if this is simply behavior typical of boys or if it is specific to elves. As you may not know, he is heir to the throne of Aalyyra through his mother's side, and as such, has been held in rather high esteem by his peers. Not to worry, however, as he detests this attention, and is in no danger of becoming arrogant.

On a related note, I must ask a favor of you for Harry's safety. An assassin has been sent from the human world, which was thankfully caught. However, we have no knowledge as to how humans came to know of the location of Harry when the elves keep a careful record of those with the knowledge of our existence. If you could look into it quietly, the favor would be much appreciated.

To a much happier subject (for you at least), Harry seems to be almost ready to go into the human world—not necessarily England, however. Unless something comes up, he should be in Hogwarts (If she will have him) by September 1994, in time for his fourth year. This news concludes my letter, and I wish you good fortunes.

Sincerely,

Rilla

P.S. I have included several wizarding photos of Harry for you (and those you trust enough to tell) to enjoy.

She opened the secret compartment of her desk and pulled out a stack of photos, — copies, of course, she couldn't bare to part with the originals, — placing them in the center of the letter. There were tons, most snapped when Harry wasn't looking, of the teen doing various things—running, fighting, studying, yawning, playing catch with Kirk, posing with an uncomfortable smile for the camera, much younger and yawning, a month after he had come and sleeping cuddled up with a blanket, standing and grinning beside Rilla in front of their home. The turquoise-headed elf idly wondered if she had been a bit excessive, before shrugging and putting it all in an envelope. The envelope bulged uncomfortably as she called her phoenix familiar, Mikanna, to bring it to the human world. Mikanna eyed the package funnily before glancing up at Rilla with the phoenix of the equivalent of a raised eyebrow before bursting away with a flash of light and the letter safely in her talons. She was back before Rilla could properly sit down, crooning a requested preening. Rilla relented with a roll of her eyes and Mikanna settled into her lap happily.

That was how Harry found them, curious and confused.

"Rilla?" Harry asked hesitantly, leaning against the doorframe uncertainly. She glanced up and gave him a warm smile.

"Back already?" She asked teasingly. He didn't respond, instead walked forward to sit at the chair in front of her desk. Rilla's smile drooped and she eyed him with concern.

"What's up?" Harry's face was confused and the tiniest bit accusing. The teal-haired elf found her heart slowing as the only reason for his expression dawned on her.

"What happened before I came here?" She had always been careful to avoid the subject of the past with Harry. From my own cowardice, She thought bitterly as she was unable to meet his eyes.

It would almost be better if he was accusing her outright, then they could yell and get it over with, not this stilted silence as she found herself unable to even look at her charge.

A deep breath forced itself from the depths of her chest and turned itself into a sigh on the way out. This is going to be a very long conversation.

Then she looked at Harry, opened her mouth, and began.