Chapter 4:

By the end of the day, Harry was completely fed up with the elvish language, but he had learnt a fair deal. He could now form basic broken sentences with Quenah's help and had a long list of vocabulary he needed to memorise. Of course, none of this negated the fact that no matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't pronounce some of the words properly. Quenah kept telling him "all in good time" and that it would eventually come to him, but Harry wasn't so sure. After all, hadn't Quenah said that human throats were physically incapable of making some of the elvish sounds?

After the older elf had left, he even went so far as to try and practise on his own, without having to worry about appearing too eager or too good. Yet, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't do it.

It means you're human Harry, he had to keep reminding himself whenever he got overly frustrated.

Still, he went to bed that night impressed with his progress. He liked to think that Hermione would have been impressed too, and smirked at the thought that he might have done better than her. He then smiled at the thought of his bushy-haired friend being frustrated by the sounds of the language that she wouldn't be able to make, no matter how hard she tried. Laughing slightly, he turned over in his very comfortable bed and tried to sleep.

It took a while, because his mind was so occupied with thoughts of his day, but eventually Harry must have fallen asleep, because he was woken up the next day by Quenah's somewhat monotonous voice telling him it was time to get up. Harry's eyes snapped open and stared at the elf that was leaning over him. He yelped and jerked back, rolling over and falling off the bed on the other side.

"Oww," were his first words to greet the new day.

"My apologies, your highness," said Quenah, "I did not mean to startle you."

Harry privately thought that the elf must have meant to startle him, but wisely didn't say anything as he climbed to his feet.

"What are you doing here?" He asked suspiciously.

"Did you forget your lessons were to begin today, your highness?" Asked Quenah, sounding slightly amused.

"Oh," Harry said, wondering what these supposed lessons were.

"The tailor should have something for you by now as well. Please bathe yourself and I will call for her."

"Wait!" Harry called frantically at Quenah's retreating back. "You don't mean she's going to come into the bathroom is she?"

"No," Quenah said, looking puzzled, "She will wait in here and I will come into the bathroom."

"But," said Harry weakly, but Quenah had already left. "Great..."

Deciding it wasn't too bad, since Quenah was a male, even if a much older one, but not quite human either, Harry got up and shuffled into the bathroom. He peered at his reflection and ran some water to splash on his face to wake himself up a bit more.

Usually at the Dursleys, Harry only got to shower once every few days, so in the mornings he would just wash his face. But it seemed cleanliness was important to elves and they must bathe everyday, so with that in mind, Harry ran the bath and stripped while he waited for it to fill at least half way.

He kept sending nervous glances at the curtain across the archway into his room, but he heard no doors open, or footsteps, so assumed Quenah wasn't going to pop his head through any time soon.

He stopped the water and got in, relishing in the hot water and feeling more rejuvenated. Washing quickly and only rinsing his hair without shampooing it, Harry had a bath in record time. And it seemed that he wasn't a moment too soon when he got out and wrapped a towel around his waist, his other hand running through his hair: Quenah's voice could be heard in the other room, telling the tailor something. Harry heard the words "him" and "please wait" so only assumed that the elf would appear any second.

"Your highness, I brought your clothes," said Quenah as he entered. He was carrying a bundle of silky looking fabrics.

Harry dropped the second towel he was holding and inspected the garment that Quenah was holding up. It was just like all the others he'd seen; a long sleeved tunic-type shirt in a muted shade of green.

"Ok," he said, "I can get dressed on my own thanks." He hoped Quenah would take the hint and leave.

Fortunately he did. He sketched a bow and said, "Of course your highness. I'll be waiting outside."

Harry watched him leave and then made sure he was completely dry before discarding his first towel and laying out the clothes. He found what could only be the undergarments and put them on, over which came a brown pair of pants, similar to the ones the Queen had been wearing. They reminded him of picture's he'd seen of genies. He felt a little foolish in them.

Next came the tunic, which was easy to put on. He also managed the stiffer jerkin easily enough, managing to lace it up with only a bit of trouble. However, it took him a while to figure out that the strange length of stiff cloth with designs on it and the length of filmy fabric hanging from it on two ends was supposed to go around his waist and hang between his legs. This in particular made Harry feel twice as foolish as before.

When he was done he looked in the mirror and stared at his appearance. Clothes made all the difference, because now Harry didn't find it so hard to imagine himself as Elwý.

He left the bathroom, spotting the tailor and Quenah seated on the couches. They saw him as well and the tailor immediately jumped to her feet with a curtsy. Harry stopped, not knowing what to do, but she straightened and gestured him over to her magically-appearing footstool. He got on the stool and modelled for her as she muttered comments and asked him to turn right and left.

Throughout the entire exchange, Quenah didn't say a word, and Harry felt fairly proud of himself for understanding enough of what the tailor was saying to be able to follow her instructions.

Then again, he suspected that some of the vocabulary that Quenah had taught him yesterday had been specifically targeted at certain things, such as the instructions the tailor was giving him. Nevertheless, Harry felt a small measure of accomplishment after the tailor left. She had given him two more sets of clothes to wear, and he marvelled at her ability to make so many outfits in only a day and night. He already knew elves had magic, so maybe she had used that, he didn't know.

"Is she making more?" he asked Quenah as they left his room (but not before Harry had grabbed his wand from the bedside table, remembering Moody's paranoia about always having it handy). He searched for somewhere to place his wand, and eventually settled for sticking it between the thing around his waist and his pants. It was a bit awkward, but it would have to do. He made a mental note of asking one of the Order to get him a arm holster as soon as he saw them again.

"No, not yet," replied Quenah, "She's going to wait a bit and measure you again."

Harry didn't know why the tailor might want to measure him again, since he was bound to be the same measurements.

"Where are we going?" He asked instead.

"To breakfast with their majesties."

"Oh," Harry squeaked, not sure he was ready for that, but at the same time a little eager to see his grandparents.

"Shall we go over greetings?" Asked Quenah, sounding slightly sympathetic.

Harry nodded his head eagerly, wanting to impress the two royals, and needing to make sure his memory hadn't run off sometime during the night.

It didn't take long to get to the breakfast room (Harry learned that there were separate rooms for each meal), which was a floor below Harry's. The room itself seemed to be built and placed so that it could completely maximise the early morning sunshine streaming through the open-to-the-elements windows which also glinted off of the gorgeous floral mosaics on the walls. There was a circular table in the middle of the room where the King and Queen were seated, calmly eating and speaking in soft tones to each other. When Harry and Quenah entered, they looked up. He greeted them hesitantly, afraid of messing up, but it seemed to come out just fine.

"Araëmel," said the King, a small smile on his lips, "Did you sleep well?"

This sentence had been one that Quenah had taught Harry the day before, and even though he had half feared that he wouldn't understand anything, his ears picked up the words perfectly. Unnerved, he managed to croak out a 'yes, thank you' which actually sounded like it was supposed to. The King's smile widened at Harry's obvious comprehension of the language, despite having known none the day before.

"Come, sit," spoke the Queen, she nodded as well to Quenah, acknowledging him, "Your language has improved, I am impressed."

Quenah translated the last bit for him, but Harry hadn't needed it. Still, he waited for Quenah to finish before he mumbled a thank you.

"I see you have new clothes," the King commented as he passed Harry a small bowl of fruits.

Harry thanked him (again...the word was very useful) for the fruit and his mind rapidly worked through what the King had just said. It took no more than a few seconds and he decided a nod of the head was the best answer.

They ate in silence for a while, until the Queen decided to engage Harry in conversation, something to which Harry had been trying to avoid by keeping his head down.

"You have lessons today," she told him, sipping some sort of sweet wine from a glass goblet.

After Quenah had leaned over and whispered the one unfamiliar word's English meaning to Harry, he was able to deduce that he had lessons that day.

He tried to ask a question of his own, surely it couldn't hurt to show some proficiency. Wracking his brain for the list of question words he'd memorised the night before (but some of which he had forgotten), Harry managed to say, "What lessons?" He didn't yet know how to form plurals, but he had picked up the form from when the Queen had spoken.

"Etiquette, geography, and an introduction to sword fighting, archery and horse riding."

All those had to be translated for Harry, but after he understood he paled and wondered how on earth he was going to get through all that in one piece. Still, the physical aspects of his day didn't sound too bad, actually, he was quiet interested and growing eager over the prospect...but etiquette? Harry shuddered.

"Furthermore," continued the Queen, "we have been looking into our research on skins and their effects and have our best potions masters and spell crafters searching for an answer to your...problem."

Harry didn't understand a whole lot of what his grandmother had just said, but one thing in particular did stand out, and that was the word "skins." That was what Aunt Petunia had called her human appearance. Harry's eyes widened at the possible implications. When Quenah had translated everything, Harry's eyes widened even further still. He gulped. They couldn't possibly mean…?

Harry quickly schooled his features, but inside he was frantically panicking. He didn't want them to use him as some sort of potions experiment!

The King turned and said, "Shall we depart then?" to his Queen and they both stood. Harry quickly stood as well, bowing like he knew he should, and rattling off the already-memorised departing phrase. The King chuckled a bit at this and they both exited the room, leaving Harry alone with Quenah.

"You did well," praised Quenah as soon as the door was shut. "Better than I thought."

Harry smiled nervously at this, shrugging and saying, "Yeah, surprised me too. Must do well under pressure."

Quenah nodded at this, taking the excuse as it was.

Harry glanced at him, wondering how fast he could learn the language. The more he could understand them, the better advantage he would have. Maybe he could even find a way to get back to Britain and leave this whole mess behind.

What about your grandparents? His traitorous mind asked.

They're not really my grandparents, he tried to convince himself.

But you want them to be. You want a family.

I have Aunt Petunia, Harry grumbled to himself angrily, then even he had to snort at that. His aunt had never treated him like family before and only recently had even voluntarily called him by his first name.

Harry sighed.

Just don't think about it.

Thus, Harry Potter's slightly insane mental conversation ended, and he was not in denial, thank you very much. He turned to Quenah.

"Keep teaching me," he ordered the elf.

Quenah's face broke out in a large grin. "With pleasure, your highness."

They spent the rest of breakfast going over what Harry had learned the other day and reinforcing it, then, on the way down to the lower portions of the palace where Harry would be having lessons with an elf who had dedicated their life to etiquette, Quenah began to fill Harry's brain with as many words and phrases as he could think of that might pertain to anything the etiquette teacher could say. It was entirely too much for Harry to remember of course, but Quenah made Harry repeat several of the more important ones over and over again until he was about ready to scream, but definitely had them memorised.

When they walked into the room of their destination, he was feeling a little more confident, but not overly so. This confidence was completely shattered when, as soon as they entered through the door, the teacher - a fair haired elf woman who strongly reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall by her demeanour and facial expression - rose and executed a rather elaborate curtsy and greeting statement that was like nothing Harry knew. Having no idea what to do, he simply stood there uncertainly. When the teacher straightened, she took one look at Harry and immediately pursed her lips in a very McGonagall way and gestured sharply at a chair with the words, "Sit down."

Understanding that much, Harry sat down, feeling totally overwhelmed and watched as Quenah took a seat beside him. He shot the elf a desperate look, but Quenah ignored it and smiled encouragingly.

And thus began a lesson that Harry would later liken to being worse than Dolores Umbridge's Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

It was quite obvious from the beginning that Harry had no clue about any sort of elven etiquette, and this seemed to be a personal offence to the teacher because she made a point of speaking fast and using big words and long-winded explanations that even Quenah had trouble translating into English in order to describe the ins and outs of every day elven social interaction. This was the first hour, and poor Quenah spent more time speaking - trying to explain to Harry a lot of the obscure words that simply didn't have a direct translation - than the teacher did.

Harry didn't dare ask questions. The etiquette teacher (whose name Harry never caught and even if he had, probably couldn't pronounce it anyway) was like a woman possessed. She seemed entirely too passionate about the intricacies of the underlying meanings behind certain greetings and forms of speech than was healthy. Again, Harry didn't dare point that out. Instead, he tried to learn as much as he could about elves so he could make fewer mistakes in the future.

After the first half hour, Harry started to notice similarities between elvish society and that of pureblood wizarding England. Mind you, Harry didn't really know all that much about pureblood society in the first place, but from what he did know, it all sounded suspiciously familiar. The elves seemed to place high priority on tradition, ceremony and blood. Most of these things Harry didn't agree with in the least, but he held his tongue and determined to ask Quenah about some of his more pressing questions after class, as the elf seemed much more easy going.

After an hour and a half of endless talking, Harry and Quenah were dismissed, and even Quenah seemed relieved to be leaving.

"That was torture," Harry confided in him after they were a good deal away from the room. He looked over his shoulder, half expecting the demon-teacher to be looming over his shoulder to correct his manner of speech and posture.

"Yes, I agree," said Quenah faintly. "Even I did not know some of that, and I have been around for quite some time."

That piqued Harry's interest.

"How old are you anyway?" he asked.

Quenah raised an eyebrow. "Don't you remember just being told that asking an Elwý their age directly is considered bad manners?"

Harry rolled his eyes and said, "So?"

"If you must know," Quenah sighed, "I am over thirty centuries old."

Harry did the math and was left gaping, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Over three thousand years old?" He gasped out.

"It is not that old," said Quenah, clearly offended.

"B-but," stuttered Harry.

"An Elwý's life-span is bordering on immortal," the elf lectured as they walked, "it has been documented that the longest living elf lived to be just over eight thousand years old, though most don't make it that far."

Harry felt like his mind was going to melt. Eight thousand! He could live to be eight thousand years old! It was simply too much to take in.

No stupid, you're human, remember? Denial reared it's ugly head.

Quenah was still talking. "A lot of Elwý die of accidents when they become older, or of a sickness, or in battle."

"Battle?" asked Harry, startled by this.

Quenah nodded. "Yes, all Elwý are required to do at least a century's worth of war service for every millennia and a half that they live."

"So you...?"

"Yes, I've done two centuries. However, I did them both back to back, so I still have another fifteen centuries to go before I will be required to do another."

"And when you get older it's easier to die," Harry concluded.

"Yes. Exactly."

They stopped walking in front of another room, this time with no door. Peering through into the brightly lit room, Harry could see lots of rolls of parchment hanging on the walls and littering the large table in the centre.

"Say," he asked as they entered to find the room empty, "what about royalty? They don't go to war, right?"

"Ah," said Quenah, pursing his lips, "no one knows."

"Huh?"

"No one knows. The royal house guard themselves very jealously. When a monarch steps down, they are usually never seen or heard from again."

Harry stared at the elf, trying to process this. His family didn't...they didn't off themselves did they?

"Ah! Here we go!" Quenah greeted a younger male elf who had walked through the archway, interrupting Harry's thoughts. It was probably just as well, he thought to himself as the new elf bowed to him, but not before giving him a curious once over.

Harry's geography lesson was much more interesting than his etiquette one had been. For one, he could understand his teacher, whose name was Dóretell (Dóre for short in Harry's mind), a lot better than the previous she-demon, because he took care to speak slowly and enunciate fully. With Quenah's translating and whispering in his ear, Harry found himself picking up words easily.

Secondly, Harry got to learn that the elve's dimension wasn't just home to elves like he'd first assumed, and nor did it have mysterious misty borders to the unknown. It was also home to many magical beings - some of which were distant ancestors of ones Harry knew from the wizarding world and others completely new - some of which were allies of the elves and some of which were enemies (obviously those were the ones that the elves were needed in battle for).

Dóre taught Harry a brief history of each individual country and about each species as well as the geographical lay out of the lands. He spent more than half their time together (a full two hours) talking about Elwýn and its geography. When Harry came away from the class, he was feeling a lot better and more solid in his knowledge of where he was and its surroundings.

"What next?" he asked Quenah.

"Lunch!" Exclaimed the elf happily.

Harry had noticed that Quenah had become a lot less formal and more open around him as time wore on, something that he was very happy about. It made him feel a lot more welcome and less stressed and worried.

"Also," said Quenah, "we can continue your grammar lessons. We'll take lunch in your room."

"Okay," Harry acquiesced.

On the way back to the tower, Quenah made Harry repeat all the new words he'd learned and corrected his pronunciation as best he could. When they reached the guards at the doors to the royal quarters, the elf told one of the guards to have lunch brought to Harry's room, and then they went through.

Being back in his room made Harry feel much more comfortable. In here there were no wide-eyed stares or muted whisperings as he passed, just him and Quenah.

"Well, let's start then." Quenah took a seat and clasped his hands.

Harry got out his notes, quill and ink, and they set to work.

Harry had never been outside the palace yet, but apparently in order to get to where they practised sword-play, archery, and kept the horses, one had to descend to the bridge and cross over to the next section of palace, then again to get to the last part (the palace was divided into three) where there were large expanses of flat ground and a forest. This, Quenah informed Harry, took an elf an hour to walk.

However, because Harry was important, he got to have special privileges, one of which included use of the transportation towers at any time.

Harry knew about the transportation tower in this part of the palace because it was the means by which he had arrived in this dimension, but he hadn't known there were two more in each section of the palace. On the walk over to the one they were going to use to get to the third tower, Harry asked Quenah about them.

He learned that they were specially designed towers built with runic circles and spells in order to enable an elf with the proper knowledge to travel almost anywhere. It was, of course, easier to use them as pathways between another transportation tower, but if an elf was skilled enough they could open up a circle in any location. Unless, Quenah told Harry, the area had been warded against transportation circles (for instance, anywhere inside the palace grounds that wasn't a transportation tower itself) then anywhere was fair game.

Unfortunately, the elf lamented to his student, most any elf with money, and a lot of their neighbouring nations, had erected barriers of their own, so the transportation circles could only really be used as a convenient means of travel and not invasion or assassination. Harry was privately glad at this, because that sounded simply awful. In a way, he was reminded of apparition. He silently wondered if transportation circles could splinch you as well, and almost laughed at the image of a helpless, splinched elf standing in line at St. Mungos to get fixed.

At the transportation tower, there were two guards blocking the entrance that Harry hadn't noticed the day before. Quenah exchanged a few words with them and gestured to Harry. The elves nodded and stepped to the side, allowing them through the doors and into the room. One of them followed them in.

"She's going to do the spell for us," said Quenah in explanation.

They stepped into the centre of the room, into the inlaid circle, and this time Harry closed his eyes when the chanting started, already knowing that the resulting light would blind him otherwise.

The chanting reached a crescendo, he saw the light flash behind his eyelids, and then there was a strange sense of vertigo. Harry opened his eyes and saw that they were in almost an exact replica of the previous room, except the colours were a little different, as well as the position of the light and shadows.

"Thank you," he told the elf who'd done the spell as they exited the room. Harry thought he might have startled her, because she blinked at him curiously and then craned her neck for a better view as they passed out of sight.

This time, as they walked the corridors and went down stairs, not as many elves stared at Harry. He thought perhaps that the news hadn't travelled as far down as the third palace yet, and that the elves simply assumed he was a child (due to his short height) because he was wearing regular elven clothes. A few did do a double take however, and Harry had no doubt that by the end of the day, every elf would know that there was a human on the premises.

Oh well, he supposed they'd have to get used to it. He was supposed to be their prince, after all. The thought still sent shivers down his spine. It was still so unreal. But considering all the strange things that had happened to Harry throughout his life, he wasn't surprised he was taking the news with minimal mental break downs and screaming fits. He was quite used to handling unwanted news (or even wanted, but startling and life changing news) by now.

Besides, he reminded himself, it wasn't like it was actually true.

Harry turned his attention back to their surroundings as, for the first time in a couple days, he stepped outside. They exited through a side door and into what looked like a courtyard. Quenah obviously knew where he was going, because he led Harry across the grass covered courtyard with its stone benches and strange, pale brown trees. There was a wooden door in one corner and they left the yard through that. A short corridor later and they were stepping fully outside the palace.

In the distance Harry could see the beginnings of a large forest and before that a large field. However, Quenah directed them towards what looked to be some stables, or perhaps barracks.

It was both, Harry soon discovered. The stables and barracks were connected to each other and circled around almost half of the third palace on the outside, where it would be most vulnerable to attack - not, Quenah told him, that the palace had ever been attacked. Its wards were far too strong.

They entered the stables part of the building, since it was closer and Quenah told Harry to keep an eye out for a tall elf man with blond hair, probably wearing some sort of armour or carrying a sword, and missing his left ear. Harry gaped at this bit.

"He lost it in battle," Quenah said, correctly interpreting his aghast look.

Still, to be missing an ear...must be horrible. It reminded Harry of Mad Eye Moody and all his missing body parts.

They didn't have to look far. They found the elf in question near the joining of the stables to the barracks. He was bellowing loudly at some poor underling and still sounding quiet fierce, despite the beauty of his language. Harry was about to step forward and turn the elf's ire away from the boy (who looked around his age, the first elf child Harry had seen) onto himself, but Quenah held him back, telling him not to interfere. But, Harry didn't have much time to wonder at this because he was distracted by a whinny. Most of the horses were out in the paddock, but this one was still in its stall. He stepped forward for a closer look.

It was a beautiful beast, easily rivalling the Headmistress of Beauxbaton's flying horses in splendour and grace.

"Hi," he whispered, getting close enough to pet the curious head peeking over its stall door.

"Hm, what's this?" Said a loud voice behind Harry.

Harry whirled around, feeling automatically guilty just from the person's tone, even though he hadn't done anything. There was an elf looming over him, the same one that had been just moments ago shouting at the boy. Harry gulped.

"A human?" The elf leaned down to peer at Harry, and never before had Harry truly felt his lack of height than right that second.

Still, at least he understood what was being said to him. He chanced a glance at Quenah, but the elf was leaving him to his own devices, no doubt wishing him to practise his language skills.

"Well?" Barked the imposing elf, who Harry belated realised was his teacher because he was clearly missing his left ear.

He cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, Harry."

"Harry," his teacher repeated, very unimpressed.

"This is your new student," Quenah finally intervened, stepping next to Harry.

"I'm teaching humans now?" Asked the elf, and tones of disgust could be heard.

Harry was offended.

"Oh no," Quenah was quick to reassure Harry's new teacher. "This is Araëmel-aryón."

"Araëmel-aryón is human?" The elf deadpanned.

"No!" Quenah exclaimed quickly, "Of course not, there's just been a bit of a skin problem."

Harry heard the oft-repeated word of "skin" and understood that they still thought he wasn't really human. He knew, of course, that he really was. He was born this way, he grew up this way, thus he was human. It made perfect sense to him.

But either way, Harry's teacher seemed to calm down and looked Harry over with a critical eye. He said something clearly insulting about Harry because Quenah blushed and choked, and for once he was really glad he didn't understand Elwýnllambe quite that well enough yet.

"Well, come on then," said Harry's teacher who still hadn't introduced himself. Harry followed him obediently.

The elf stalked into a room (for once what Harry considered a proper room, meaning that there were no large, breezy windows) and emerged some seconds later with an armful of gear which he immediately dumped on his student. Harry had to fumble to keep hold of it all, though he didn't say anything - he was used to this kind of treatment from the Dursleys.

As they walked through the barracks (and as curious elven heads popped out of rooms to watch with wide eyes), Harry's teacher introduced himself and laid down some rules.

"My name is Master Melcacrist," he began. "That does not mean Melcacrist, Melca, or 'excuse me' as I have sometimes been addressed. It means Master Melcacrist or 'sir', is that clear?"

Then Melcacrist proceeded to scowl at Harry as he had to wait as Quenah hurriedly translated his new teacher's speech. As soon as the elf was done, Harry rapidly nodded his head and said, "Yes sir!"

Melcacrist seemed pleased by this and went on speaking. "Furthermore, I don't care if you're the Crown Prince of the world. When it comes to war and battles, I'm the best teacher they have, so I want no pussy-footing around. While you are with me, you'll be the one obeying me, not the other way around."

After this was translated, although Harry got the main gist of it by the elf's tone alone, he again said, "Yes, sir," trying to be as respectful as possible.

"Good."

They stopped again at another room for two wooden practise swords, which Harry was also forced to carry, but not before he was made to change into what he was previously carrying. This turned out to be a less colourful version of the clothes that Melcacrist was wearing, minus the wasit-wrap (as Harry had taken to calling it). He also put on a leather jerkin and two leather arm guards.

Quenah hovered over his shoulder the whole time, clearly upset by the disrespect his prince was receiving, but obviously knowing Melcacrist's temperament and reputation, so saying nothing. Harry was grateful, knowing that if his tutor said anything to rile the elf up, it could result in it being taken out on him.

They reached a practise ring which was fenced off and Melcacrist had Harry lean the swords against a post before having him stand in the middle of the ring across from him. Harry began to get nervous. Didn't they need the swords to practise?

Apparently, Melcacrist had other ideas. He started off the lesson with a question and answer session which kept Quenah working overtime with the back and forth translations.

"Have you had any previous fighting experience at all?" His teacher asked.

Harry frowned. "What kind of fighting experience?"

Melcacrist scowled. "Anything. Brawling, dodging, duelling."

"Uh, yeah, pretty much all three." Harry replied, racking his brain for instances.

"Explain," came Melcacrist's command.

"Well, I've sort of brawled before. You mean punching and stuff right? I have a school rival who I get into fights with and I sort of almost wrestled a troll once." Suddenly Harry almost laughed, realising the complete irony of that last statement. He had never once considered his Halloween stint back in first year along the lines of what the Weasley twins had told Ron he had to do to be sorted before, but now the irony almost made him chuckle. "And I've have plenty of practise dodging," he continued, suppressing his previous desire, "since my cousin Dudley used to have a game he called 'Harry hunting'." Harry received two blank stares at this, so he had to elaborate. "Er, he and his gang would chase after me and if they caught me they would beat me up. Anyway, and I've had plenty practise duelling before." He pulled out his wand from where he'd slipped it through the waistband of his pants.

Melcacrist looked at it in astonishment, although Quenah was still busy muttering the phrase "Harry hunting" incredulously under his breath.

"Duelling with a stick?" Melcacrist looked like he wanted to laugh.

"It's a wand!" Exclaimed Harry hotly, offended.

"A wand."

"Yes! What else could you have meant by duelling?" Harry waved his wand around exaggeratedly, emphasising his point.

"Swords," said Melcacrist shortly, "and be respectful boy!"

After this was translated, Harry muttered a sheepish, "Sorry sir."

The elf stared at him for a few moments, clearly assessing him with his gaze. Harry waited patiently, not wanting to aggravate him further by saying something he wasn't supposed to.

"Explain this wand duelling to me," Melcacrist finally demanded.

"Um, well, you sort of stand across from each other, or in a battle, across from your enemy, and shoot spells at each other, dodge them, block them, that sort of thing," he explained awkwardly.

Melcacrist's eyebrows rose. "You've been in battles?"

Blushing, Harry nodded.

"Hmm, show me one of these 'spells' of yours. I assume it is human magic?" Melcacrist waved his hand off to the side.

Harry glanced at the empty patch of dirt, not sure what to do. He glanced at Quenah for help, but the elf had no clue either. What spell could Harry do on an empty patch of dirt? And what about the Ministry - would they be able to detect him? He didn't think so, he was in another dimension after all, and if they Ministry knew it existed, Harry would have learnt about the elves a long time ago. He figured he was safe from the Improper Use of Magic Department.

Finally, he had an idea. He flicked his wand in the direction of the wooden swords and said a firm, "Accio sword."

One of the wooden swords lifted off the ground and came zooming towards him. He caught it in his left hand by the hilt and turned back to his teacher. The elf was watching him calculatingly.

"Put it back," he ordered.

Shrugging, Harry banished the sword back to it's place and stuck his wand back into his waistband.

"Have you had any experience with swords?" Melcacrist asked.

Harry hesitated, remembering the incident with the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

"Spit it out boy!" Melcacrist demanded, although Quenah's translation was a lot more respectful, which earned him a glare.

"Well, once I used this sword to kill a basilisk," he told them, although it probably didn't count as real sword fighting.

Also, when the two elve's faces began to drain of colour and pale rapidly, Harry reckoned he probably shouldn't have said that. Melcacrist didn't even need a translation to understand what Harry had said, the basilisk being a universally deadly and hated serpent.

"Y-you did what?" Quenah practically screeched.

Harry's eyes widened. "I'm sorry! It was going to kill me and I had to save my friend!"

"You killed it with a sword?" Melcacrist asked faintly, and it took a few tries for Quenah to get his question across.

"Yeah, but," Harry hastened to reassure them that he hadn't killed it in some super hero fit of strength, "it got me in the arm with one of its fangs. Here, I have the scar to prove it." He rolled up his sleeve and displayed the shiny whitish patch of skin in his forearm.

Both elves gaped at him some more and Harry cursed his big mouth and inability to say the right things.

"How are you not dead?" Quenah gasped. "Not even an elf can survive a basilisk's venom!"

But of course, Harry thought, he had stupidly forgotten that a basilisk's venom was deadly. Of course they would be wondering how he wasn't dead.

"It was Fawkes. He's a phoenix. He cried on my wound and it healed."

The two elves calmed down considerably at this information, but they still looked either gob-smacked or heartily impressed.

"Still," mussed Melcacrist as Quenah translated, "you can't be more than sixteen years old. That is impressive for a sixteen year old."

"I was twelve," Harry corrected without thinking.

"Why am I not surprised," said Quenah weakly. He then reluctantly explained to a curious sword master. Melcacrist was silent for a minute as he stopped to digest everything Harry had stupidly revealed.

"I think," he finally smirked, "I will like working with you, your highness."

Harry started at the show of respect, but then grinned slightly. Maybe revealing all he had, had been a good idea. It had been common knowledge in the wizarding world, but over here it was brand new information, and it had come of use. Now his teacher respected him and would hopefully go easier on him.

But that was not to be. Evidently, respect in Master Melcacrist's book meant being twice as hard as he would have been before and acting like an all around slave driver. By the end of Harry's preliminary sword lesson, he was sweating buckets, had several brand new bruises, and his muscles were aching so hard from blocking sword swings that they felt like they were about to drop off.

"Now," said Melcacrist cheerfully as Harry collapsed on the ground, "we'll move onto horse riding next to give your arms a rest before archery."

Harry groaned.

AN: Well, here it is FINALLY. the fourth instalment of this ever cheesier cliched wonder. I actually, really have to apologise for the lateness of this, seeing as I had it written ages ago, but just never got around to beta-ing it. I could have posted this in June.

heh.

However, before that I never would have had the time to post it. If you need any explanations of the entity I like to call "real life" then please check out my profile where I have written a brief explanation for my disappearance during the months of April and May, as well as half of June.

In any case, I would dearly appreciate some reviews, especially if you catch any typos and plot holes. Those, I would like brought to my attention ASAP. Thanks.

Questions & Answers:

Why do the elves hate humans so much? More reasons for this will be revealed in later chapters, but the basic point I'm trying to make here is that the Elvish society is very similar to the pureblood wizarding society in that they are prejudiced bastards who see themselves as above all other species. Yes, something happened several thousand years ago in the past, but come on, humans were still in the dark ages then, they can hardly be blamed for any mistakes they might have made. Then again, the elves, as you can see, have a very LONG memory.

Does anyone in the Wizarding world know about the elves or Harry? Um, that would be a no. A very big NO. You'll find out later.

Why does Petunia hate Lily?This will be explained in great detail in the next few chapters.

Why did Lily leave?Again, revealed in later chapters. XD

Are James and Lily still alive? A big resounding NO to that one too. Sorry.

Okay, that's all the questions that have been brought up in reviews. Please let me know if you have anymore, as I realise I can be very confusing in my writing sometimes. Apart from that, please brow beat me if I made any grammatical mistakes. Or typos.

Toodles.

xoxRia