A/N: So, once again it has been some time. I'll keep putting a recap at the start of the most recent chapter (and will remove it from the previous).


The Shadow of Angmar

Chapter 6: Yet shadow Endured


"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry's cry echoed through the quiet woods and disturbed birds from their high perches among the whispering branches.

The fallen and yellowed leaf, which he had been trying to lift into the air with magic, lay steadfast upon the ground before him. It was stirred only slightly by the faint breeze which filtered weakly through the trees of the wood in which he now walked.

He prodded the clearly useless length of wood in his hands at his target viciously, his anger bubbling over at last, after nearly two days of failed experiments. "Fly, damn you!"

Still it sat motionless and resolute. Harry flung the useless stick to the ground, yet another in a long line of failed attempts. Ever since he had entered the wood he had been collecting a stick or twig from every tree he passed and each one he tested for magic.

Not a single one allowed him to perform even the meanest beginnings of a spell. They did not even feel as comfortable in his hand as the pine staff that he still carried with him, though it was now broken and useless.

It seemed hopeless. It was like his magic was locked behind a heavy door and without a proper wand he did not have the key. He'd tried for hours to recall the sensation he'd felt when he'd performed magic during the attack weeks earlier but it proved distressingly hard to quantify or repeat. He felt like he was as close to performing real magic now, after two days in the woods, as he'd been upon his release from the iron grip of Angmar.

That was to say, not close at all.

And yet he knew it was not beyond him, that was what was so utterly infuriating. He had performed magic, he had mixed a potion, he was a wizard still, of that there could be no doubt. But he was a wizard without a wand, and that was no enviable circumstance.

He wished, not for the first time, that he'd made a greater effort during his years at Hogwarts. Perhaps, his doubts whispered, if he'd just done a little more work he would have known enough to make some progress here, so far from any chance of rescue.

But he had not, and so he had no choice but to strive on the back of what he did know.

What he knew now was that it was clear that a wand without a core was no wand at all. More than that though, wandcrafting was an ancient art that had been passed down through a small number of families. Even if by some providence he found something that might serve as a core for his wand he had little knowledge of how a wand was created or crafted. All he knew was that a wand was much, much more than the sum of its parts. He doubted strongly that he would easily be able to replicate the work of a master of the art like Ollivander.

He could only hope that one of the Wizards in the world would be able to help him. Daewen had said that they did not use wands here but perhaps a true Wizard's staff would be enough to grant Harry the use of his magic back.

In dark moments he reflected that it would almost be easier if he'd lost his magic completely, at least then the damnable hope would not prop him up only to be cast down again and again by the cruel reality of his situation.

If he had been in the frame of mind to appreciate it he would have been in awe of the forest through which he now walked. It was a watercolour in motion, bright colours and sweeping shapes. Tall trees, much taller and straighter of trunk and limb than any he'd ever known stretched for miles beyond miles. Some had pale silver bark, while others had brown, or red, some were even the pale gold of the rising sun over distant waters. The canopy was awash in more colours than even the most beautiful painting and with each gust of wind across the boughs a brilliant shower descended to the ground below, like embers of the sun.

Harry had not paid the sheer beauty more than a cursory glance. Only once in his time in the woods had he been distracted from his magical efforts and that had been in the late hours before he had gone to his fitful sleep. As he lay upon the ground, wrapped in a rough but warm enough blanket gifted to him by Regana before his departure he'd looked up into the thinning canopy and done nothing more than stare until sleep had finally taken him.

Among the then dark leaves the stars had shone with a purity and grace that seemed almost out of place. Surely these were the same stars as could be seen anywhere else and yet here the effect was so much different. As they wheeled slowly across the sky pale lances of light descended through the leafy openings and danced over the ground where the bright colours of the fallen leaves reflected all around.

It almost made him forget about his frustration. He'd dreamed that night of the endless and ageless night sky and had awoken the next morning more refreshed than he'd known in a long time.

That restful night was now long forgotten. He kicked out at the ground and swept a cloud of brightly coloured leaves into the air, to his stormy mind the beautiful effect was distinctly unsatisfactory. He stalked onwards and as he passed close to the next tree he lashed out again and struck it with his foot.

"Aaargh! God damn it!" he cried as the soft slipper-like shoes he was wearing failed to protect him from the blow. He hopped on his good foot for a moment before finally punching the tree as hard as he could.

He hissed in pain as his knuckle met the unyielding wood with bruising force. Finally he closed his eyes and rested his forehead gently upon the tree. He tried to focus on a mental image of the stars he'd seen the night before. Slowly, so slowly, the anger and frustration ebbed away, each long breath taking with it just a little of the pain that he'd become so adept at ignoring.

"Nalwai nan?"

A musical but stern voice came from mere feet away and Harry's eyes shot open in surprise. Somehow in the bare minute he'd been standing silently trying to calm himself he'd been surrounded by a group of people who looked very much like Elves.

Each was fair, as was always the way with their people. Men and women both were slim and fair of face with long hair that reached at least beyond their shoulders but in a few cases settled close to the smalls of their backs. Most had rich brown hair that seemed almost red among the fallen leaves of the wood. A few, including the one who had spoken, had silvery hair that shimmered in a way that reminded Harry a little of his old invisibility cloak.

Their clothing was similarly elegant though not as intricately adorned as he remembered Daewen's had been. There was also very little metal in evidence across the entire group he could see only silver adornments and steel blades, they had none of the incredibly fine mail and plate of the Elves Harry had met before. Instead they wore long tunics in earthy colours and over each was worn fine leather body armour, inscribed with hair-breadth silver filigree patterns.

Each also held in their hands a bow and in every bow an arrow was nocked.

"Na utilwai nauriva? asked the silver haired one whom Harry decided must be the leader. His voice was strong and challenging and Harry could see that the Elf was rapidly running out of patience.

He cleared his throat. "Do you speak Westron? Getheode?" From what little he knew of Daewen it seemed possible that they might speak Westron, even here, so far from the lands upon the western sea. If not then surely they would know Getheode, the language of the plains folk.

"Why have you come into our woodlands, trespasser?" the leader asked in heavily accented Getheode. Unlike Daewen and the Elves of Rivendell, who spoke even the language of Men with the grace of poets, it was obvious that he was not often called upon the speak anything outside of his own tongue.

The truth was surely his Harry's best path. "I was told that the White Wizard lives in the shadow of Raedmunt, I was travelling to receive his counsel."

There was a very slight slackening of bowstrings around him, it seemed the Wizard was known to them. The leading Elf, however, did not relax.

"What counsel do you seek of Kurumir?" He near barked the words. "From whence have you travelled?"

"I came from Rivendell, far to the West," he said quickly. He doubted that telling them he'd come from Angmar would aid him in this situation. They would either be ignorant of it, or they would have heard the reputation even here. Neither would serve to endear him to them.

"Rivendell is not known to us," said the Elf suspiciously, the bow still held taught. "Never have I heard Kurumir speak of such a place."

"Imladris, then?" said Harry after a long nervous moment of riffling through his memories.

The leader's lips thinned dangerously.

"I have heard of Imladris from Kurumir," he bit out. "What reason do the Avarthi have to send an envoy into our lands?"

A susurration went through the assembled Elves at the mention of Avarthi. Harry didn't know what it meant but from the context the meaning was clear; it was what these Elves called the Elves of Rivendell.

"No reason," said Harry. He spoke quickly to quell their suspicion. "I left them of my own choice, I am here because I wish to learn from Kurumir."

There was a long pregnant pause between the two until, at last, the final bow was lowered and Harry let out a relieved sigh.

"You will be taken before Aminilyё," the Elf said at last. "None may pass through these lands without her leave, and you do not have it."

"I meant no insult," said Harry, trying to repair whatever damage he'd done in his ignorance. "I was not told that these woods were yours alone."

"Then you were advised poorly, Alameri" said the Elf, his tone clipped with impatience. "Come, I have no wish for you to remain in our woods longer than you must."

With that the Elf turned away, and gestured to one of the other Elves, "Tidiryes renen, Hedunika."

The Elf in question inclined his head very slightly before responding, "Ek nim caté sa." He then slowed and took up position to the side and just behind Harry. It was fairly clear just what the command had been.

Then, without a further backwards glance the lead Elf led the group off, clearly expecting Harry to follow. Around him the other Elves began to move off though Harry noticed that each of them eyed him carefully before following their leader. Harry decided that for the time being it would be best not to antagonise his hosts any further. He rubbed his still stinging hand absent-mindedly and fell into step behind the group of Elves.

His assigned guard fell into step just behind and to the side of him and Harry could feel the watchful eyes of the Elf upon him.

The group of Elves kept a punishing pace. Harry soon found his legs becoming steadily heavier as he strove to keep up with their deceptively quick stride. He was reminded again of his time with Daewen and the inhuman grace with which she moved. While Harry was much recovered now compared to the time when he'd last travelled aside an Elf these Elves were much less inclined to treat him kindly.

Where the Elves walked with ease and grace Harry found the bushes and undergrowth grasped and clawed at him. Their pace did not let up though, even as Harry stumbled and struggled. They were nigh silent, save for a few quietly whispered words that passed between them.

The only sound of the group's passing was Harry's heavy breathing and the sound of his ongoing battle with the plants of the forest. Every now and then he'd catch the barest whisper of an argument being held between the Elves nearby but he could never make out the words, even if he could he certainly wouldn't recognise the language.

He tried on multiple occasions to strike up some kind of conversation with his escorts, or his assigned guard, but each time he was ignored completely. Even attempts to introduce himself by name were met with stony silence and piercing glares. On the few occasions they saw fit to address him, most often to chastise him for his slow pace, he was called only 'Alameri', a word he did not understand.

Finally, as the sun at long last set below the western horizon, the pace slowed just a little. Harry was grateful for the long days marching among the Rethlapa, for surely without that exercise he would not have been able to sustain the punishing march he'd endured throughout that entire day without rest.

"We do not labor under the stars," explained the silver haired Elf when he came back to Where Harry was leaning appreciatively against a tree with fine, paper-thin bark. "You will remain here until dawn. You will be taken before Aminilyё tomorrow."

Harry did not have it in him to do much more than bow his head in acceptance, simply thankful that he'd get some small measure of rest. He would also, hopefully, be allowed to eat. On their day-long march he had scarcely been allowed a few bites of his rations and he could feel the strength drained out of his body.

It was when the other Elves left that Harry realised where it was they were going. Hanging above them in the thinning canopy was a collection of what Harry could only call tents. That word was singularly insufficient to the purpose though. Calling what hung from the canopy above 'tents' was akin to calling Angmar grim; at its most basic level it was true, but it could not hope to bring a listener to a full comprehension of the reality.

Strands of rope so thin as to be almost invisible in the gloom spanned between the trees like a great web and from those strands were suspended more than half a dozen cloth structures of varying sizes, designs and colours. They were made out of a pale and shimmering fabric that rippled constantly in the mere breaths of wind that filtered through the trees. Elves moved easily among the structures across the impossibly thin support ropes, their weight barely seeming affect the spindly web at all.

One of the structures was the size of a small house and from within could be heard the sounds of cheerful revelry. A hundred gossamer thin strands of silver radiated out in a starburst into the nearby forest and the whole structure swayed alongside the trees that held it up.

Ever moving and never still it was as if the wood itself had grown out into the impossible shape simply to give home to the Elves that lived there. When the light of the stars above was reflected in the liquid surface it it alike the clearest limpid pools in a cave.

"Wow," Harry breathed quietly. In the entire year he'd spent in this world and prison he'd never truly appreciated just how alien another world could be. Where the dark iron and stone of Angmar was unfamiliar, it was not altogether strange to one who had spent the best years of his life in Hogwarts Castle. There was, perhaps, an echo there of what could have been had Voldemort been successful.

Not so here, there was nothing from his world that he could draw upon to place the home of these Elves in context. It was at once beautiful, elegant and utterly bizarre.

Then, as he gazed at the suspended settlement to sky darkened enough that the stars shone down upon him as they had the night before. As the threads, structures and trees all captured and reflected the pure starlight in a million different ways Harry understood completely why the Elves were so protective of their forest.

He sat with his back against the hardwood of one of the trees and tilted his head up the sky and simply let the sensation of wonder and contentment fill him, for the first time in many months he did not fight it.

"Do you Men not require sleep, Alameri?"

Harry was broken from his reverie by the soft words the Elves assigned to watch over him in the night. He was stood not five feet from where Harry sat and in the beautiful twilight of the wood only the fractured starlight glinting upon his dark hair and pale eyes betrayed any features within his dark silhouette.

"How can I sleep when it means I'd be missing that?" Harry said in little more than a reverent whisper. He shook his head. "It seems such a waste."

His words seemed to have an effect upon the Elf who stepped closer and lowered himself to his haunches.

"Few enough Men take the time to watch the stars, in these dark days," he said, his mouth downturned in a frown. "Too often they are distracted by the dark clouds that blow ever from East to West. Even on a clear night such as this most are too blinded by their own brief lives to appreciate the ageless grace of the stars."

Harry couldn't help but snort as a little ill-humour bled through the quiet calm. "There is little enough brightness in my life in recent months, certainly nothing bright enough to blind."

"It seems that light ever dwindles while darkness is fated always to grow," said the Elf understandingly. "But see! Though night now falls there is beauty and purity even there that cannot be destroyed, only hidden briefly by shifting clouds. And in time a new dawn will come and darkness will again retreat beyond the horizon. Ever has it been so."

"You seem so sure." Harry shook his head ruefully. "I am not."

"I have not the wisdom to aid you. But know, Harry, that no evil will come to you here. Sleep, and as you do know that the stars will keep the shadows from your mind. No shadow of the enemy will pass here while the Elves yet remain and the stars yet shine." For the first time since he had parted with Daewen months ago Harry heard sympathy in the tone of the Elf.

o-o

Harry was nudged awake the next morning and groaned his tired discomfort into the loamy soil. His back and neck ached and it felt like all the muscles of his body had seized up over the night. The only small mercy was that one of the watchers had seen fit to cover him in a thin but soft Elvish blanket to ward away the cold late autumn nights. Though it was much thinner than the heavy Rethlapa blanket it was also warmer by far.

"The time for sleeping is passed, Alameri," said the unwelcome voice of the blond Elf from the previous day. "You will stand."

Harry bit back the rejoinder that rose up in his throat at the treatment. He knew that ill-considered words would do him no favours here. Instead, he picked himself off the ground with no small amount of effort and discomfort as muscle and bone protested their treatment over the last cold night.

The Elf looked over Harry as he stood up. The grey eyes flickered over his scarred appearance and dirtied garments he wore and made no effort to hide their disapproval. Among the Rethlapa he had almost been able to forget the physical hurts dealt to him at the black hands of the Witch King, but among the Elves found that their lingering eyes would ever remind him of just what he'd once been and what he'd become. Harry could not help but wonder if Elves were even capable of becoming muddied or befouled.

"You cannot travel into the trees, and so Enelyё Aminilyё must come instead to you." It was clear that he did not approve of that circumstance. "Know that she does you a greater honour by her presence than any mere Man should ever hope to deserve."

Harry said nothing, instead he stood to his full height and grimaced as he tried to ignore the cracking of joints. He noticed that all around were far more Elves than there had been the night before. Where before there had been shy of a dozen now more than fifty sets of slate-grey eyes looked on in suspicion. More than that though was the feeling of watchfulness, of grey shapes at the edge of his sight, unseen and unheard; but not unseeing or unhearing. Something grated upon his nerves, frayed and unsure.

Flanked by dark-haired Elf maids who must have been considered fair even among the Elves was an Elven Lady of eye-catching beauty and grace. Her hair was spun silver and rippled softly in the morning sunlight, like captured starlight. Her eyes, edged with the beginnings of crow's-feet, were so pale as to almost shine with an inner light and her skin was fresh-fallen snow.

"I am Enelyё," she said in an inhumanly resonant voice. If a normal human voice could be a fine instrument then Enelyё's was like a mournful orchestra. "You are the one whom I felt enter my woods."

"I am sor—" Harry began before she waved him off, even that small gesture was smooth and graceful.

"Do not fret, young one," she said as her eyes shone with understanding. "I can see the shadow of pain hanging about you yet even now it cannot rule you, you shall be welcome here, among my people."

And just like that, the suspicion vanished from the faces of all those who watched. The blond haired Elf who had just yesterday treated Harry with contempt now looked on with acceptance. Such was the power of the Elven Lady before him. Moments later the group of Elves who had congregated dispersed back into the woods and tents overhead. The watchfulness faded.

"I can hear in your words that you have travelled far indeed and I can see in your bearing that the journey was no easy one," said Enelyё. "Come, take succor with me and tell me of your quest."

She led Harry and her small retinue through the autumnal woods. The leaves upon the ground sighed at her passing and the branches overhead dipped as she passed them by. Soon they came upon a small brook which bubbled between the trees. By the brook was a stone, flat-topped and polished to a marble finish by usage and time. Two smaller stones sat beside it, Enelyё seated herself at one.

She motioned to Harry to take the other, "My companions will grant us privacy," she said when Harry glanced towards the Elf maids that had followed them. "You need not fret yourself over them."

"It is said that you come to us in your search for Kurumir, the one you call the White Wizard," she said after Harry joined her at the low and rough table. It seemed an odd combination, for she was more queenly than any Harry had ever known yet now she sat at nothing more than an unadorned stone.

One of the Elf maids returned to them carrying with her a small assortment of unrecognisable foods which she placed upon the stone between Harry and Enelyё.

Harry inclined his head, "I am lost, my Lady, and I do not know how to return home. It is my hope that he might show me the path."

Her eyes seemed to look through him and it seemed for a moment as if she was not listening but then she spoke, "I hope he can aid you, young wanderer. Yet know that none can ever truly return to a home that has been left. The Elves, the Avarthi of Rivendell most of all, know the truth of that. Even should the body be returned the spirit can never follow."

"I know that this, what I have experienced and seen has changed me," said Harry, he had to accept that harsh truth at least. "But what else can I do? There is nothing for me here but pain and the long memory of it."

"Would that you have never left," said Enelyё a sad tilt to her melodious voice. "Yet I see in your eyes that it was not your choice to leave. I cannot offer to you the words you would seek to hear but perhaps Kurumir, or Morinehtar would be of more help. Hear me though, Harry Úmarё, they will send you only further from home as no road can lead you to the past."

She reached down and offered Harry an unusual savoury cake-like food form the selection between them.

"Such words are not those you wish to hear," she said when Harry accepted the food in silence. "I would not have you pass on from here as you hold such false hope in your heart. The Wizards and their hidden masters who once walked these lands shrouded by shadow and mistrust would fill you with that hope to ward you from darkness."

Harry nibbled on the food she'd offered him, despite the cynicism of her words it softened the blow. It had little of the warmth and fullness of the waybread that he'd been given by the Elves of Rivendell but it worked to ease his hunger.

"I am not ready to give up," he said firmly, his determination sprouting anew as his hunger was banished. "Where would I find Kurumir?"

The ethereal Elven lady before him smiled sadly. "Was it always so among Men," she said as she shook her head gracefully. "Ever scrabbling for all their days, never savouring the short time they have. But I will help you, for my heart senses in you something more than my mind may perceive.

"Kurumir is to the north, more than a week's travel for one without Elven swiftness. You would not find him easily alone, young Úmarё, for he resides for now within the deep halls of the Dwarves."

"I have come this far," said Harry firmly, rebuffing her suggestion. "As you said, I cannot turn back and so onwards is my only path."

She was silent for a few seconds and Harry feared he might have given her insult, finally she smiled at him, a simple gesture that was stunning in its beauty. "Then I would offer you one last piece of advice, should you choose to hear it."

Though it seemed she had not taken offense to his words Harry did not wish to try her patience and immediately accepted to hear her words.

She stood up slowly, a long, single fluid motion alike to a ballet dancer. "Wait among our people for two days and two nights and you will have companionship on your journey to Kurumir. Two travellers, alike in nature to the one you seek, will arrive hence on that day and then they will go on. Morinehtar is alike to Kurumir in many ways, rash and with little appreciation of the ways of our people, but Rómestámo may have words of wisdom that you would choose to hear."

"Alike in—" Harry began before noticing that Enelyё was already departing their small glade. "Wait, do you mean they're wizards too?"

She looked back at him and thought for a moment. "So they claim," she said at last. "But I have met their ilk before and I do not find much truth in their words, much though they like the sound of them. They are not servants of the Enemy, that much is sure. But there will be time for such question later. You are weary and hungered. I shall leave you to break your fast in peace, away from my doom-laden words."

o-o

Two days was not much time, not when compared to the weeks with the Rethlapa or the year in the dungeons of Carn Dûm, and yet Harry chafed every waking minute for his wait to end. He was so close to the answers he'd been seeking for so long.

Wizards, there were wizards coming to Celfumar, the Elvish settlement that was at the centre of all the wandering groups that moved always to and fro across the Wildholt, or Covánan as the Elves called it.

After he had received Enelyё's blessing he had been welcomed with open arms by the Elves of the woods. They had even gone so far as to erect one of their impossible gossamer tents near enough to the ground that he could enter and leave without aid. When he reminded them that he would only be among them for two nights they had waved his concerns off easily.

Yet he found again that the effortless perfection of the Elves reminded him of his own weakness and ruination. Among the Rathlapa, a hardy folk forged by the cold, the wind and the rain of the great plains, he had almost felt unremarkable. Beside old Úda his broken teeth had not been worthy of note and when compared to Wambald even Harry's now fading scars were not so terrible as they had first seemed.

But now he was again comparing himself to Elves. Elves that shone like a precious metal while his was still occasionally patchy and dull. Elves with flawless visage and impossible grace while his scarred body fumbled from place to place. Elves with perfect teeth so white that they could blind while Harry could still hardly bare to see his own reflection.

Unlike with Daewen, though, the pain was more distant now. The anger and frustration didn't come, instead there was a resolve. He would repair himself, body and mind, and he would not be ashamed.

Their hospitality in the first night served to drive any such dark thoughts even further afield. They had feasted upon many breads, meats and wines on the first night. Elf maids had played any number of stringed instruments, and accompanying each another Elf would sing a song of sadness or triumph, happiness or regret and with each song Harry could not help but be moved, even though he knew not the words they spoke.

As the evening ran into night and the endless field of stars shone down upon them a single Elf maid stepped before everyone and, alone and without accompaniment, began to sing. One Elf, the one that had spoken to him on his first night, named Hedunika, tried to translate for him.

His eyes were mournful as he explained the story of which she sang, one that moved many of the Elves to tears. "It is the story of the Awakening of our kin at the shores of the great waters that once lapped at the base of the Covánan. At first it was bright and full of wonder, the joy of birth and discovery as stars shone brightly overhead in days before the light came to them from the West and long before the sun ever rose in the sky.

"Three kin of Elves there were and ours was the largest. Yet shadows grew in the woods in which our Mother and Father awoke and soon those shadows grey and Elvenkin disappeared into the cold and the dark, never to be seen again. In those days, the first days of our race, each wife was gifted a husband and each husband a wife, a companion to see out all the turns of the stars. Yet the shadows sundered many of those bonds."

The music grew mournful but was at once strong too, resolute. "Imin of the Minyar was the first to be lost, and Tatiё of the Tatyar but our own kin, the Nelyar in the ancient days, lived among the trees and the shadows could not reach us in our homes of spun starlight.

"Then came Arometh, upon his great steed, he bore a light in his countenance and by his mere presence the shadows shied and fled. After he came the earth shook and weeped. The water of Cuiviénen were drained and mountains were uprooted. Then he asked the kin to abandon their homes for he said that darkness had crept into the east and could never be wholly stamped out."

But memory of the waters was still young among our people and many did not wish to go. Of the Minyar and the Tatyar nearly all chose to follow to the bright land they said resided across the far sea. Even the Nelyar were sundered in two. Elwë, son of Enel and Enelyë and the greatest of our kin in any age, went with them on a great journey into the West, and were forever lost to us beyond the unknowable sea."

"The days then were filled with fear and loss for darkness crept back as Arometh had said it would. Our numbers waned and life was filled with strife and pain. Enel, the leader of our people was slain in battle with a horned beast of fire and wrath."

He quieted as the Elf maiden's song became a slow and mournful lament. "She sings now of the long waning years before the rise of the sun and the arrival of Man, I do not know the words in your tongue to express the depths of sorrow found here for my people. Perhaps there are none, for your lives are not long enough to know such."

And so Harry did not question further and instead merely listened to the emotion behind the words, emotion so transparent that no words were needed. Anguish and long despair through a long and torturous night. The song seemed to have no end and was forever finding new pits of depression into which to plunge and so Harry did what he could to excuse himself.

It was just as well that he did, for he found out later that the song was nothing less than the entire history of their people and was so woven with tragedy and sorrow that no Elf could listen to it without weeping.

When the next morning came Harry awoke in the early hours of darkness before dawn and he was visited by one of the Elf maid companions to Enelyё.

"Vinrána," she said in her own tongue. A name some of the Elves had taken to calling Harry. It meant young wanderer in the Kwendi tongue. "Aminilyё sends word that your companions are not hours away. You should ready yourself to leave before the sun has reached its zenith for they shall not stay here as their news will be urgent as it seems it ever is in recent years."

And so it was that after more than a year Harry met a Wizard, two in fact. And both were exactly as he'd envisioned and hoped in his dreams on the last two nights.

Pointy hats, long, brightly coloured blue robes. No wands, but a long staff held like a weapon in the hands of one who knew how to use it. One was bearded and his eyes held a light and humour Harry had once known in the person of Albus Dumbledore. The other had no beard but bore himself with a strength and confidence that would engender trust in all who met him.

After more than a year, Harry felt the stirrings of hope again. His way home did not now look so distant.


A/N: So it's been a while. Sorry about that, I really don't have much of an excuse except for the fact that having a proper job really cuts into the time I can put into writing. Still, stiff-upper lip and all that rot. This isn't going to be abandoned.

The other thing is that I'm completely staggered by the response this story has garnered. So many reviews. I hope to respond to as many of them as I can now that this chapter has been posted. Fingers crossed that the next one happens faster. This one was hard and was re-written a lot. I find Elves very hard indeed to write, and it's even more troublesome when you have to invent them a language all of their own.