Disclaimer: Anything that is related to J.K. Rowling or J.R.R. Tolkien do not belong to me. Sadly.
A/N: If you're reading this, it means that you survived the prologue. Congrats, I should give you teddy bear hugs. *Gives you hugs* Alright, the story's going to start to get more interesting here. Another note, I will be following the Harry Potter BOOKS, not the movies (though I do think they're awesome) and the LOTR movies ('cause they're more simple than the books).
Alrighty then, let the story, BEGIN!
Huor Séregon sighed, taking a small sip from his wine glass. The students all filed into the Great Hall talking loudly, all with bright smiles on their faces. He felt his lips twitch upwards as he watched them. All of them were children, after all. Well, compared to him at least. In all honesty, he was a bit surprised that he wasn't dead yet. However, that was to be expected from being an immortal elf.
Sitting to his left was Madam Hooch, the flight coach and instructor. She was the one who taught young witches and wizards how to fly a broomstick. Currently, she was engaged in conversation with professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. On Huor's other side sat professor Snape, the Potions teacher. Leaning back in his seat, his glass in his left hand, Huor glanced at the man out of the corner of his eyes. He had a large, hooked nose and greasy hair. He sat rigidly, his eyes watching the children carefully, studying them. A grimace came to Severus' face when he saw the Weasley twins sitting at the Gryffindor table. Huor chuckled, shaking his head. The Potions professor turned his gaze to him, his black eyes narrowing.
"I do not know what is funny, professor Séregon," he drawled, his eyes staring at him intensely. Huor took another sip from his wine glass, a grin on his face. "Only how serious you seem to be this year," he replied, his greyish blue eyes dancing in amusement. "A galleon for your thoughts?" The Potions professor rolled his eyes, turning his gaze once more to the students. "Need I remind you, Severus," Huor said, idly watching the children in amusement, twirling a lock of his blond hair with a finger, "That you can call me by my first name? We are, after all, colleagues, aren't we?"
Snape snorted, his dark eyes flickering to him for a brief second. "You were a teacher here since long before I arrived. You taught me in First Year basic hand-to-hand. It will be a rather long time before I call you by your given name, professor Séregon." Huor sighed, rolling his eyes. He looked at the other man, a cheeky grin appearing on his fair features. "Very well then. I'll have you know that you would need to live for a millennia before you would accept it. I know you, Severus." The Potions professor just rolled his eyes. Huor threw back his head and laughed. His elf eyes saw how Snape's lips twitched upwards.
The elf turned his attention away from the man beside him, glancing to the door at the end of the hall. The children were all seated, chatting anxiously to their friends. Minerva had gone outside to greet the first-years as Hagrid brought them him. He found himself smiling in anticipation. The First Years. They were always there, a reoccurring pattern that came every year. Without them, Huor wouldn't have a class to teach and it would get very boring.
Professor Huor Séregon was the teacher of Hand-to-hand combat and Weapons training. These weapons didn't include wands. This class was about self defense, about what to do when your opponent managed to get your wand away from your grasp. He taught them how to defend themselves with old Elvish techniques, that surprisingly still worked in this day and age. This included both the use of martial arts and weapons, such as swords, daggers, and bows. In their first-year, it was a necessary class that must be taken. After, as the students continue in their school life, they can drop the subject if they wished in their Second Year.
Just then, the doors to the Great Hall were opened, the large figure of Hagrid walking into the room behind Minerva McGonagall, the Transfiguration professor coming into view. The older students all turned around in their seats to see the new children who would be beginning their magical education. Huor found himself glancing over their faces, staring in awe at the ceiling as it showed the night sky above their heads. A bushy haired girl spoke to the others about it, having read about it in Hogwarts: A History. Huor's lips twitched upwards once more. His eyes scanned the crowd, finding that he recognized many of the young children from what their parents looked like.
There's a younger Bones, a Brown, another Weasley (how many children did Arthur and Molly have?), a Parkinson, he thought. Ah, I see Lucius and Narcissa's son, he looks just like his father…. Soon, Huor found himself looking into green eyes behind a pair of square-framed black glasses. Blinking, he saw unruly black hair and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Harry Potter? He has finally come? The boy looked nervously up at the professor's table and met Huor's eyes. The elf smiled kindly to the boy, smirking as he leaned over to whisper into Madam Hooch's ear.
"My elf eyes see the son of James and Lily Potter approaches," he muttered, his eyes flickering to the boy in question. The flight instructor's eyes widened, turning to look at him. He nodded in confirmation, tilting his head to the Boy-Who-Lived. She gave a small nod in return, leaning to mutter in Flitwick's ear. Huor turned his attention back to the crowd. Many of the first-years had their eyes on him, his pointed ears standing out from the row of teachers. He gave an encouraging smile.
"Who's that?"
"Is he an elf?"
The person's voice who's rose above the rest was the young Malfoy's, a taunting smirk on his face. "My father mentioned that an elf improved his sword techniques when he was in school," he boasted. "He said that he was one of his favorite teachers." Huor felt himself grin, lifting his wine glass from the table and raising it with a nod to the Malfoy. The young blond gave a triumphant smirk to the other students. Huor sipped his glass.
McGonagall walked around the staff table, pulling out a four-legged stool and placing it in front of the first-years. Then, with one snap of her fingers, Minerva summoned the Sorting Hat from Dumbledore's office and set it onto the stool. It sat silently for mere moments before the bottom half of it opened, appearing like a mouth. Then, it sang:
'Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find,
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!
Placing down his glass, Huor clapped along with everyone else in the hall in applause to the Sorting Hat's song. Even after many, many years, the blasted thing had never once changed the lyrics to its tune. Looking down at the children, Huor smiled in encouragement. Some looked excited, like the bushy haired girl and the young Malfoy, while others, such as the Weasely and Harry Potter looked queasy and nervous. Though he wasn't surprised, Huor himself was like that when he tried the hat on. He had been more confused than anything though. The old hat had a hard time choosing a house for him, yet it somehow did. He shared many qualities with all of the houses. With Hufflepuff, loyalty and hard-working; with Ravenclaw, quick thinking and wit; with Gryffindor, daring and bravery; and with Slytherin, cunning and resourcefulness*.
Slowly, but steadily, McGonagall read the names of the first-years off a sheet of parchment in alphabetical order. The number of students dwindled down as more and more tried the hat on and took their seats with their appropriate house. Then finally:
"Potter, Harry!"
Many voices were heard all around the room, whispers of excitement coming from the students at their tables. Harry walked up nervously to the stool, sitting and placing the hat onto his head. Everyone sat with baited breath as they watched the Boy-Who-Lived. After what seemed like forever, the hat finally gave a loud shout.
"Gryffindor!"
The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, the loudest that had to be heard in the history of Hogwarts. Huor winced, bringing a hand to his ear in an attempt to block out the loud noise. But he smiled, watching as Percy Weasely shook Harry's hand and the twins, Fred and George, yelling in victory: "We got Potter! We got Potter!"
It only took a few moments before the others found their places, after which Dumbledore stood in front of the entire school to give a few words of welcome. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I'd like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" As soon as the Headmaster sat, food appeared on the plates in front of everyone. Huor felt himself rolling his eyes and huffed in frustration. The mashed potatoes were on the opposite end of the table.
Dumbledore made the food disappear just as everyone finished, clapping his hand for everyone's attention. Huor sat up straight, his wine glass refilled and his almost non-existent appetite satisfied. Clearing his throat, the Headmaster opened his arms to ceiling in greeting.
"Ahem – just a few more words now that our bellies are full and stuffed. I have a few short start-of-term notices to give you." Dumbledore pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, clearing his throat. "First-years should not that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. We do not wish to disturb the peace of our woodland neighbours," he added, looking over his shoulder to Huor. The elf nodded, though his eyes twinkled. "A few of our older students would do well to remember this." The Headmaster's eyes glanced over to the Weasley twins.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for the house teams should contact Madam Hooch." Once again, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." At this remark, some of the students laughed, though not many. Huor sighed, shaking his head. Dumbledore said it so bluntly, yet there will always be the few students who's curiosity was too great for their own good (…. The Weasley twins….).
Then, clapping once more to get everyone's attention, Dumbledore raised his face with a smile. "And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"
Huor felt the smile on his face twitch ever so slightly. Of course he would do that…. Turning, Dumbledore pulled out his wand and a golden ribbon flew out, floating to the back wall above their heads. With a wave of his wand, the old Headmaster called to the students, "Everyone picked their favourite tune, and off we go!"
The school sang loudly, their voices off key, and all singing at different times. Huor winced, rubbing his right ear painfully. Elf ears were rather sensitive to loud noises. This of course is the downside of having such good hearing.
Finally, as the Weasley twins finished last with a sad, slow funeral march, Dumbledore conducted their last words. Everyone, including Huor who tried to ignore the pain in his ears, clapped in appreciation. Huor had a fixed smile on his face. As the applause faded, Dumbledore wiped a tear from his eye. "Ah, music," he sighed. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!" And with that, the students filed out, the first-years following their Prefects.
The next day, Huor tapped his foot impatiently in the classroom at the end of the third corridor on the left side of the stairs. First-year students filed in, in twos and threes, chatting idly as they entered. The door closed behind them when the last members of his class, a young Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley rushed in just as the bell tolled. He held his arms crossed over his chest, continuing to tap his foot as he waited for them all to quiet down. Which they did quickly when they noticed his stern expression. When they all sat still, Huor uncrossed his arms, turning to the chalkboard and picking up a piece of chalk.
As he wrote on the board, he spoke quietly. "Gryffindor and Slytherin houses in one morning, I'm not really surprised." From the quiet shuffling his elf ears heard from behind him, Huor noted that they seemed nervous. Finally, he replaced the chalk down and faced his class.
"Hand-to-hand and weapons. There are a few other ways to defend oneself besides magic. It is a very primitive way, yet effective." He walked over to his desk, picking up Ohtar Alqua. Examining the well crafted elvish sword, Huor continued to speak. "Magic will not always be there to help you. There are ways to disarm a wizard or witch of their wand, whether it be a spell or melee. However," quickly turning, Huor raised his sword and flung it. The blade flew through the air like an arrow being shot from a bow. It hit the wooden door with a clang, sticking out of the wood. The students all had shocked expressions, turning their faces back to look at him.
"I am here to teach you how to use these weapons," he continued, speaking as if nothing happened. "Or, how to weld something similar to these weapons. One can turn a muggle steel pipe into a powerful bat, or a switchblade into a worthy dagger." Huor placed his hands behind his back, staring into all of their eyes. "I am here to teach you how to defend yourself with these weapons and how to fight dirty. So, young ellith, if you have dainty hands and are afraid of breaking a nail or two, then this isn't the class for you." He gave a cheeky grin as a few of the male members of his class snickered.
"I am Huor Séregon, your professor for this class. The art of weapons and hand-to-hand combat has been a tradition for my people since more than a millennia ago. I will be teaching you some of the basic techniques that are necessary when defending yourself with these methods." He calmly walked past the admiring and nervous looks, walking to the door. Grabbing onto Ohtar Alqua's handle, Huor turned the blade in the wood quickly, drawing it out from the door. It had left a rather sword-shaped hole. Pulling his wand out, he tapped the hole with the tip. The hole was gone and appeared as good as new.
"Note, young ellith and ellyn that if you aren't careful, you could hurt yourself and others," he slowly walked back to the front of the class, swinging the sword in gentle arcs around his body. "One must know the first thing about handling any weapon, sword, dagger, bow, or fist, that you must be cautious. If your enemy has a weapon such as this and they are running at you, what do you do?" He stopped, pointing the tip of the metal blade into young Gryffindor, Seamus Finnigan's face. The boy stuttered in surprise before he answered. "I would try to disarm them."
Huor nodded, smiling. "That's exactly it. Ten points to Gryffindor. That's exactly what you must do." He continued on his stroll to the front of the class, stopping beside the young Malfoy's desk. "You are without your wand, Mr. Malfoy. The enemy had sliced your hand, making you drop it. What do you do?" The grey eyes of Lucius' heir looked at him with confidence. "Take control of the weapon," he replied. "If that doesn't work, disarm them, just get that weapon away from you." Once again, Huor smiled. "Exactly so. Ten points to Slytherin." He returned to the front of the class, ignoring the raised hand of Hermione Granger. The girl sighed, dropping it onto her desk.
Placing the blade on his desk once more, Huor walked over to the board. Once more he picked up the chalk, and turning to face the class, tapped the white writing utensil to the board. He had written several words on the board, set up in a large elaborate diagram. In the center was the word 'defense'. Branches extended around the edges with the different methods of defense; 'Bow', 'Sword', 'Dagger', and 'Hand-to-hand'.
"We will be starting with hand-to-hand," he said, tapping the chalk onto the word's bubble. "Before we move to daggers, then swords, then finally, the bow." He placed the chalk back down, going back to his desk. Leaning, he pulled an ornate bow out from behind his desk. Reverently, Huor rubbed his fingers over the bow's delicately designed leaves. "The bow will be learnt last because of its difficulty. Swords and daggers required strength and speed, yes, but the bow requires a focused mind in addition to these two other attributes." Putting the bow onto his desk gently, Huor looked at his class. He met each of their eyes, lingering on Potter and Malfoy, as well as Granger and Weasley.
He grinned. "Any questions?"
Hermione's hand immediately shot up anxiously, followed by a few others. He chuckled. "Yes Miss Granger? A question?" She lowered her hand, staring at him with large, chocolate eyes. "I have never seen an elf before. Can you tell m- I mean, us about your people?" Many heads nodded in agreement, though the Slytherins' were hesitant. Huor gave another chuckle. "What do you wish to know?"
"What are elves like?" He found himself looking to Padma Patil, her eyes blinking and a light blush on her cheeks when he smiled. "It depends. Many elves are like humans with one special difference; we are immortal." The class started whispering. "How old are you then," as Ronald Weasley. Huor gave a cheeky grin to the red haired boy. "Much older than you, Mr. Weasley. My people have been alive for many centuries, ever since the earth was reborn again, in fact." More whispers were heard.
"What do you mean 'reborn again'," asked Granger, her eyes wide with anticipation. Huor stepped lightly around the side of his desk, sitting onto the wooden chair. He felt the old adrenaline of storytelling coming into his blood. He looked out into the eager eyes of his students.
"Long before Hogwarts was built, long before the human deity Jesus came into existence, the world was very different. It was once called 'Middle-earth', for it was the middle ground in which the Valar created. The elves were the first created, their fair features being modelled after the gods themselves. They were created and settled the land of Valinor. However, circumstances made it that the elves were to travel to this Middle-earth, to help man and dwarves begin, for they knew not how.
"As the ages grew on, and man learned how to live, the elves began to sail over the seas to return to Valinor, the Undying Lands. They found that their business on Middle-earth was complete and they wanted to rest in peace until the end of days." The students were enthralled with his tale, listening with rapt attention.
"However, some remained behind, hiding away in the woods, never to be seen. One day, many, many years later, a battle was prophesized. The tale of a Dark Lord arriving to destroy the Valar and all of their creations. The prophecy became true when Valinor was attacked. Many elves, men, and dwarves died, but it was worth it. The evil was gone, struck down by Túrin's blade, and the dead elves returned to life in their old glory, the gods becoming young once more.
"They did not know, however, how this would change the world. The first music was loud and beautiful, yet the time of the elves had long passed. After this battle, a new world was created, life rising from dead soil. This second music was greater than the first, bringing hope to this new world and to the Age of Man."
He fell into silence, watching their reactions before continuing once more. "The elves that remained hid away, protected by our Gods' magic. However, sometime in your eleventh century, when the first Headmaster of Hogwarts was introduced, he discovered a miracle. Elves within the forest beside the school, hiding away in their talans above the ground. He greeted them, and let them be. Their king, Lithinduiel, son of Legolas, accepted this and in thanks for their promised peace, sent his own friend to teach students at his school. That friend, was me." Students all around gasped in amazement.
Huor chuckled at their reactions, shaking his head. "Are the elves still living in the Forbidden Forest?" He turned his gaze to Harry Potter, the boy's green eyes shining. Huor nodded, smiling softly. "And Lithinduiel is still their king. He has two younger sibilings, Battresinduil and Vivrendella. When their parents sailed to Valinor over a millennia ago, I stayed behind to help and raise them. The elves thrive within the forest and it's best not to disturb them."
Huor turned his head, turning to look out the window at the sun. He gave a sigh, kindly smiling to his students. "I will let you go a few minutes early. Have a nice day!" The first-years stood from their seats quickly, chattering loudly to each other as they left the room. Huor chuckled. The first class seemed to be more of a history lesson than a defense lesson.
*I felt that it would be a good idea to leave Huor's house anonymous and let the reader decide which house he should be from. If you leave a review telling me which house and WHY (can't forget that), I might mention it in a forthcoming chapter.
Ellith: Female plural
Ellyn: Male plural
