New Life

Summary:

Harry Potter is the only one that survived the war. His friends died. There is no more hope. Until something happens and Harry finds himself in Arda as a child. And not as a human child, but as an Elven child. Will Harry be able to have the childhood he never had? Elfling Harry! Harry Potter and Lord Of The Rings crossover.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings their respective owners are J.K Rowling and J.R.R. Tolkien. I own nothing except this computer I am writing with.

A/N: Harry's mind is of a 20 year old and his body is one of 4. Every 5 years his body grows 1 year. Like this:

Body: 1 Mind: 5

Body: 2 Mind: 10

Body: 3 Mind: 15

Body: 4 Mind: 20

Body: 5 Mind: 25

Body: 6 Mind: 30

And so on.

I will NEVER abandon this fic, and if I don't post any chapters is because I have a ton of homework or I don't have any ideas.

Chapter 2

When Harry awoke he was lying in a soft patch of grass. He wondered where he was, the last time he was lying in one of the four-poster beds of the Gryffindor rooms. When he stood up he noticed that his clothes were loose on his body and it didn't seem he was very tall, probably just like a child of 4. He looked around and saw a river off to the right and walked to it trying to not to trip on his too long pants. He looked into the river and was shocked when he saw his own reflection. He looked much younger, like he was no more than five years old. But his big clothes making him seem much smaller. His hair was silky and went down to half-way his back, and it was no longer the untamable mess of his hair that used to look like a birds nest and his eyes were still the emerald green eyes that he got from his mother. His skin was naturally pale and his face was pointed and delicate. He looked if he still had the lightning bolt scar in his forehead. And he still had it, the horrible scar that would make him remember who he was, The Boy Who Lived. He put his new hair behind his ears and stopped halfway there. His ears were pointed! Pointed! He nearly screamed in realization that his ears were as pointed as a house-elf, but sure, he wasn't a house-elf, his skin wasn't different from a human so, he wasn't a house-elf. So, what was he? He didn't remember anything from the classes of Hogwarts, so he was something he didn't even know. It was very strange because he never learnt any creature that had pointy ears but looked like a human from Hagrid's class of care of magical creatures, so that meant that he was a new species or that he was far, far away from earth.

His stomach grumbled and he remembered that he eat a long time ago so he went to go and search a bush of blackberries that he knew that were nontoxic for him, because of the hunt of horcruxes taught him how to survive in the wild for a few days. He searched for bushes that had red branches with long thorns similar to a rose; it also had green leaves that were wide and jagged. He finally found one bush that followed the expectations. It tasted sweet, but it was a little bitter. He ate until he was full and that was only a handful of them. He then decided to go and find a place with no cities or villages, so he decided he would go up the river he saw, when he woke up. He thought he would never find any civilization but he was wrong. The civilization was up in the mountains instead of the sea. But anyway who would know that, and he still didn't know he was in Middle Earth.

So he went to find the river. He finally found it but he noticed the sun was starting to go down on his left so he chose to find a safe place to sleep. He searched and he finally found a comfortable bush and he settled himself. And he wished he would not get dreams from his and he fell asleep. Little he knew that memories from his friends would hunt him until he could find out what love meant.

Dreams:

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you're sure — better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it — a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed — at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The keys in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.

"Yes!"

Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop — a high, petrified scream — and it was coming from the chamber they'd just chained up.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"It's the girls' bathroom!" Harry gasped.

"Hermione!" they said together.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket – but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed — for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder — but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air – she and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes —her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green — exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees — Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

"Hermione!"

"Harry — you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him.

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry —becareful! "

"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.

"No — but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck — take care."

"GO!"

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames.

"Here I come," he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…

"First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley…"

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

"… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second — to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves — they were a hundred points up.

"Third — to Mr. Harry Potter…" said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points — exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup — if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

End dreams

Harry woke up and heard a twig snap, his body tensed. He could hear and understand someone that was talking. He never heard of that language but he could somehow understand it, a little similar to parseltongue. It seemed the person was searching for something, someone, the person was searching him. His body started to tremble. His heartbeat started to grow faster. Now he could hear the people perfectly. He closed his eyes and quietly put the hood on from a Death Eater's cloak, and prayed that they would not find him. But luck was not by his side that day. He felt the bush move and something thin and pointy aiming at him.

"Who are you?"

A/N: I hope that the chapter was long enough for you. It's very hard to write it so I will try to do 1,500 or 2,000 words next time. I hope that you liked it and review! It helps me a lot to continue writing and if you can, can you give me some ideas? Thanks!

I will try to post next week on Saturday!

Kohana Kimura