Disclaimer: I'd like to introduce you to Harry Potter, owned by J.K. Rowling, and Lord of the Rings, owned by J.R.R. Tolkien. They will be present to make sure I don't claim rights of ownership.
A/N: Thank you elvesknightren and Furionknight for being the first two to review this story. Love you guys *Winks*.
Already two months into the new school year, and already Huor found himself with a rather smart class of students. He liked those kids, the ones able to never run out of questions. He, of course, answered them as best he could. However, he came to realize that some of his vague answers only drew more questions. Why did he never learn?
He found himself feeling more comfortable with the double Slytherin/Gryffindor first-year class, surprising. Especially the young Malfoy, Granger, and Potter. These students seemed to wiggle their ways into his heart, much like a few others that he knew. These students asked personal questions and he found himself telling the class more about his people and the older students that he had, had. He spoke of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, much to the liking of young Draco. He spoke of more famous members of Wizarding history, in favor of Hermione. And with the young Potter, he spoke about his parents.
"Your mother hated your father when they first met," he remembered saying. "It doesn't exactly help that he found her attractive. Him and his friends would pass her in the hall, young James throwing a flirtatious comment in her direction. Lily would reply with a witty response that even the Slytherins found amusing." Harry had blinked and leaned forwards in his seat, his eyes burning with curiosity. The other students were back to whispering. "If they hated each other so much, how did they come to have me," he asked, almost sadly. Huor gave the boy a kind smile. "As the years went by, James matured. He slowly stopped pulling pranks, stopped bossing younger students around. He became an adult. And in their seventh year, when he was Head Boy and she was Head Girl, he asked her to be his girlfriend. And she said yes."
Young Harry Potter started to warm up to him after he spoke of that, asking more questions and participating more in class. He greeted Huor in the halls when he saw him, always with a large grin on his face. And in return, Huor answered any questions he had about his parents; what their favorite subjects were, their favorite colors, little things like that. Harry Potter was an odd one, he knew that for certain.
For one, the boy had somehow made the Gryffindor quidditch team. He heard about it during breakfast from Madam Hooch and professor Flitwick who were speaking about it at the time. Huor didn't know the details of how he managed to get on the team, but Huor knew that it was genuine. In fact, that had been the main topic of discussion when Huor saw him in the halls later that day.
"So, Gryffindor Seeker? My, my, have you got much work in for you," he had said, flashing a grin, his greyish blue eyes twinkling. Harry had blushed lightly. Then he looked up nervously. "Professor, might I ask you something?" Huor walked with his down stone hall. "What do you wish to know, Mr. Potter?" The Boy-Who-Lived paused, idly rubbing the hem of his sleeve. "Hermione said that my father was also on the Gryffindor team…. Is that true?" The grin on Huor's face grew. "A Chaser, he was," the elf replied fondly. "One of the best. With quick reflexes as well. Whenever he played, it was always rather entertaining." Harry smiled, thanking him before running into his next class.
Now, at the time of the Hallowe'en feast, Huor sat with the other teachers once more at the professor's table, chewing on a piece of lembas, elvish waybread that he carried with him at all times, and sipping lightly from his wine glass. Small colonies of bats flew through the air above their heads as everyone in the Great Hall joked and laughed as they enjoyed their evening meal. The air was lit with an almost eerie orange glow, illuminating pumpkin jack-o-lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Huor smiled, one of the bats flying down to him, the elf holding out the remaining lembas to the creature. It snatched it from his grasp, flying once more into the rafters of the roof. Chuckling, the elven professor spooned himself some of the mashed potatoes (he wasn't surprised that Dumbledore had intentionally placed the bowl on the opposite end of the table during the Start of the Year feast.) and began to eat, glancing around the hall.
Suddenly, the Great Hall's doors flew open with a bang, everyone in the room turning their heads in surprise to the disturbance. Professor Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, ran into the room in shock.
"Troll!" He screamed, pointing behind him. "Troll in the dungeons!" His running came to a halt as he gasped for air. "Thought you ought to know," he said quietly, before falling forwards onto the floor in a dead faint. The Great Hall erupted in panicked shouts from the students, many of the younger ones clutching to their older peers. Huor had a deep frown on his face, his hands covering his sensitive ears, his mashed potatoes forgotten on the table. Dumbledore stood from his chair, pulling out his wand and several firecrackers exploded at the tip of it.
The noise stopped immediately. Huor lowered his hands. "Prefects," the Headmaster said softly, "lead your houses to their dormitories immediately. Slytherin house, remain here for a moment." The other students began to file out, all desperate to get to safety. Dumbledore turned to Huor. "The Slytherin house dormitories are in the dungeons," he rumbled, the old man's eyes serious. "Lead them there safely. Take one of the secret passages." Huor nodded quickly in response.
"Alright everyone," the elf called, swiftly leaving the other professors' sides and to the front of the pure-blood house. "Follow me, quickly now. No falling behind." And with that said, Huor Séregon led Slytherin house to their dungeon dormitory with a speed that rivalled a flying broomstick at full speed.
Many hours later, as Huor stood outside of the Slytherin dormitory entrance, he heard the sound of footsteps at the end of the hall. Whipping out his wand, Huor pointed it at the figure as they turned the corner. Mr. Filch raised his hands in surrender. Lowering his wand, Huor gave a nervous grin. "Sorry," he said, looking around. "I'm on edge." The caretaker snorted, shaking his head. "Came to say that the troll has been caught," Filch muttered, walking past him and lighting the lantern in his hand. "How?" The two stood like that, side by side but looking in opposite directions. "Potter and Weasley," Filch replied, spitting onto the ground.
Huor nodded, feeling the burning urge of curiosity cropping at his brain. However, he supressed it as he willed his feet to move. As he walked down the corridor, Filch continued in search of the other teachers still in the dungeons.
Huor stood at one of the many windows overlooking the courtyard, the cold November air blowing through his hair as he stared out into the depths of the sky. Today would be the start of the quidditch season, the very first game being between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Long had the two houses hated each other, for reasons that Huor could only guess at. He looked down into the courtyard, the sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione drawing his attention. Behind them was the familiar blue fire in a jar that he had seen many times before. Most likely that they were using it to keep warm.
As he was about to call out to them, he saw Snape approach, speaking to them before taking the book that was in Harry's hands. As Snape walked away, the trio seemed to mutter angrily to themselves, their voices too low for him to catch from where he was. He shook his head, sighing before he looked over to them once more. "Miss. Granger!" The trio looked up at him in confusion. "Put that out," he shouted, nodding to the jar. The three children looked down, slightly ashamed as Hermione put the fire out.
Huor pushed off the ledge of the window and made his way indoors. That was something that he noticed. He noticed how the bushy-haired girl started to hang out with the two boys after Hallowe'en. When he had returned to Dumbledore after learning that the troll had been taken care of, he was told how Miss. Granger was saved by Potter and Weasley when she went to take it on by herself. His ear had switched. Over the years, Huor, as well as many of the other elves, had taken to reading people. The instant that Minerva had said that Hermione was at fault, he knew that someone was lying. He supposed that after that incident, the three had become friends. And Huor had to admit, he was glad. The young Hermione Granger needed more friends.
Huor sat on the edge of his seat as he watched the fifteen brooms fly into the air. The Keepers flew to the fronts of the goal posts, ready to block. The Beaters hit their bats on the sides of their broomsticks in anticipation. Madam Hooch threw the quaffle up, and immediately, young Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor scooped it out of the air. They were off.
"And she's really belting along out there," spoke Lee Jordan, this game's commentator. As the boy spoke adamantly about the match, Huor found himself chuckling in response to many of his comments. Suddenly, a flash of gold caught his attention. Huor's elvish eyes could make out the intricate pattern of the golden snitch as it hovered in the air before fluttering off at a high speed. "My elf eyes see the golden snitch right over yonder!" He pointed out at the edges of the field, many of the other professors' eyes following his finger.
"-and Chaser Bell and speeds towards the – wait a moment – our favorite Elven professor has spotted the Snitch!" Huor could hear the murmurs from the crowd, the tips of his ears turning a light pink, as he let his hand drop to the bench once more. Favorite Elven professor? How embarrassing! His eyes continued to follow the Snitch as the two Seekers flew in a rapid dash to reach it.
However, as Potter closed in, Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin team, rammed into the young first-year. Potter flew off course, almost losing control. A large ruckus could be heard from the Gryffindor stands as they called a halt to the game for foul play. Huor's eyes turned back to where the Snitch had been hovering to find that it disappeared. He frowned, scanning the field in search of the flying gold ball. A soft, gold glint caught his eye and Huor smiled, deciding to keep the Snitch's location all to himself for the time being.
However, his attention was forced away from the small object to see Harry Potter jerking around in the air, almost as if attempting to throw its poor rider off. He gasped, bringing a hand to cover his eyes as he watched young Potter start rolling over and over in the air. A feeling of fear came into his chest. The rest of the spectators started to take notice, their gasps being heard. Huor stood from his seat, quickly rushing out from the stands and behind the bleachers. He immediately caught sight of Snape muttering, his eyes never leaving Harry, attempting to counter the jinx. He ran past him, towards Quirrell, who was leaning on a nearby wood beam, the normally nervous acting professor also muttering.
Huor knew it. He had this feeling in his gut telling him that this was where the trouble was coming from. Quickly walking around the many patriots standing behind the bleachers, Huor made his way to where Quirrell was standing and threw a rather strong punch into the back of the man's head. The DADA teacher gasped in surprise, toppling over onto the floor. And just as quickly, Huor disappeared into the crowd and back to the bleachers just in time to see Snape's cloak catch fire. The Potions professor noticed it just in time as well, quickly standing and stomping it out. Huor noticed a bushy-haired brunet flee the scene.
Sitting next to Snape, who was once again watching the game, Huor leaned over. "I took care of the instigator," he whispered. Snape's lips twitched upwards as he gave a small nod. The game ended just as Harry Potter nearly swallowed the golden Snitch.
After the game, Huor followed Snape back to his office. The Potions professor sat at his desk, Huor leaning on the bookshelf. "I hope you didn't damage Quirrell too badly," the black-haired man asked, pulling out a quill and began grading the potion assignments of one of his classes. "He'll have a bruise, nothing that won't heal," Huor replied, reaching into one of his coat's pockets. The elf pulled out sheets of completed homework that he had assigned. Nothing too difficult, just testing what they knew, if they remembered anything important. Taking out his own quill, Huor began marking.
Snape had nodded in response. Besides that, the two didn't exchange any other words as they worked in peace.
I apologize for the shorter chapter, my exams are coming up so I have to start studying for them. *Sigh*
