Disclaimer: Not mine. I hope you know by now that I am not Tolkien and take no credit to any of his words or songs I use, right?
Summary: Ten years ago, just after the war had ended, everything was settling down, and the world was turning right side up again, Harry Potter disappeared. Hermione had lost all hope of seeing her friend, when who should show up uninvited to her wedding party but two beautiful strangers with an interesting tale to tell. What path did Harry take that led him so far away from the wizarding world? And now that he is back, is he here to stay?
Pairings: Harry/Legolas; Hermione/ Ron
Warning! There is no Middle Earth in this chapter whatsoever. Sorry to disappoint those who like the Middle Earth parts over the wizarding world parts, but that's just how this chapter happened. So please refrain from complaining on that point alone. You've been warned. We'll return to Middle Earth in the following chapter.
A thank you to all my reviewers, alerters, and story favouriters. Your support reminds me to keep going at it.
Enjoy!
* The Long Road *
…
It was close to four o'clock in the morning when Harry Apparated them out of there to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. But not before leaving the couple a note saying that Harry and Legolas would see them after their honeymoon and to not try anything else until they'd had their time together.
...
"Come on, though," Harry pushed Legolas gently in the back to keep moving up the stairs, "It's just for tonight. I'll figure out something for us in the morning when we go to Gringotts. The goblins have always been good at keeping secrets, given the right incentive," Harry added conspiratorially. As they made their way to the third landing, Harry directed them down the hall to look for a room that wouldn't stir up too many bad memories for the night.
...
...
Before going out the next morning and leaving Grimmauld Place for hopefully the last time, Harry made a point to soften both his and Legolas' features with a bit of magic.
"I'd rather not have the entire Alley ogling you, love," Harry said as he passed a hand over Legolas' ears, rounding out their tip, and then doing the same with his nose, cheekbones, and chin. He looked carefully over his handiwork, smiling as Legolas tilted his head to the side in pose, before copying the procedure on himself.
"Better?" Harry asked Legolas for confirmation. The mirror in the hall was so grimy from years and years of dust and who knew what else that it was a lost cause by now to even try to clean let alone use as a reflective surface.
The older elf shrugged. "Depends on your view, but I still think you look gorgeous."
"You better," Harry quipped back absently, turning his attention to look around and see his improvements on the room from last night, now that they could see better in the daylight. It still looked creepy and what one would expect from any bona fide haunted house, but he supposed it was an improvement. Harry spun in place slowly, remembering his short time here in fifth year with mixed feelings; his small moments with Sirius, the godfather he never really got to know. After seventh year, his fifth had been the worst to date, though the summers in between had been a hell of their own.
Stopping to face Legolas once again, he asked, "But will we attract much attention?"
"You look decidedly human," Legolas confirmed with a nod, discreetly refraining from commenting on Harry's inner thoughts and letting him instead change course and move on. "Though not exactly the same as when we met."
"And thank the Valar for that," Harry returned, rolling his eyes. He then transfigured their dress tunics into something more along the lines of wizarding robes, which he thought effectively finished off the look of going wizarding incognito.
This way they would not stand out as much as they had at the wedding, where they were supposed to have been strictly observers. And look where that plan had gotten them. So better to be safe than sorry was the new motto, though Harry didn't really expect to be recognised as the Boy-Who-Lived.
He was hardly the same undernourished teenager he had been when he'd left this world, after all. The scar on his forehead for one was gone, and for another, no one should be looking for him, seeing as most considered him dead or missing. For the most part, he figured they would be safe walking down Diagon Alley without an entourage.
"All right, then," Harry nodded, satisfied for now, and held out his arm for Legolas to grip. "Let's go." They were thoroughly done with Grimmauld Place and Harry fervently wished never to return again. He hoped by the end of the morning they would have more choices available to them.
Not sparing the old room another look, Harry Apparated them into the back room of the Leaky Cauldron.
"We're here," Harry said softly, more to himself than Legolas, as he gazed around with a bit of nostalgia at the grimy brick wall and rubbish bins, which smelt like they'd been there for weeks. Harry held his breath and went about looking for the correct bricks to tap that would open the gateway to the Alley.
"This is Diagon Alley?" Legolas said in confusion, looking around him with a disbelieving expression, his nose wrinkled up at the smell. "Are you sure this is the right place?"
Chuckling quietly, he realising he hadn't explained his entire journey into the wizarding world adequately enough to Legolas before. He didn't bother answering now though because at that moment he was tapping his fingers, channelled with a bit of magic, against the right sequence of bricks.
As soon as he stepped back and pulled Legolas along with him to make way, the bricks started shifting and moving until the two were presented with an archway into the Alley.
Harry heard Legolas gasp softly beside him, and he gently took the elf's arm and guided him through to the other side.
It was a wonder to see after so many years.
The Alley was bustling with activity; merchants yelling, broadcasting their wares, patrons haggling prices, animals squawking from the menagerie, demanding to be bought by passing wizards and witches. It was an all around incoherent jumble that greeted their ears upon entry, though it was still fairly early and probably considered calm for a Sunday morning.
Harry noted that new buildings had been erected to replace the ones burnt down during the war. Ollivander's was back in business, though another name Harry wasn't familiar with was scripted beneath the famous sign; an apprenticeship of some sort, probably, giving how Ollivander had faired personally through the war. Harry spared a glance into the wand shop, but didn't think he could risk going in right now.
Turning back to the main Alley, Harry would have to admit that the sights, smells, and sounds of the magical shopping centre had not diminished since his last visit. It put his heart at peace to see how well the wizarding populace was doing only a decade after the war had ended. There was resilience and hope to be found in the race of Men, wizarding or otherwise, after all.
And for the first time, Harry felt the overwhelming ambience of magic generated in the place; it was staggering. The concentration of so much magic assaulting the senses was a bit like breathing in a fresh breath of autumn air after being shut in a musty room for a year.
Magic-wise, there was no equivalent of this place in Middle Earth.
Smiling with an undeniable feeling of excitement, Harry turned to Legolas, who was looking around in unmitigated wonder. Eyes wide as wizarding galleons and jaw slowly dropping and closing as his lips half-formed silent words of astonishment, Legolas looked like a Muggle-born getting their first introduction to the Magical World.
Harry no longer worried about getting stopped in the streets for being recognised as The-Boy-Who-Lived, but he was still silently thanking the Valar that he'd had the foresight to disguise their features. It would appear that with Legolas gawking like a small child, taking in all the sites, they would really need it if they wanted to attract the minimum amount of attention.
Feeling it was a little superfluous, but not caring as Legolas' reaction was giving him sheer amusement, Harry threw out his arms and declared dramatically, "Alae, Diagon Alley!" (Behold)
But for all his dramatics, Legolas appeared not to hear him, though the urgent tugging on his arm to get Harry to start moving made it more than obvious what the other elf wanted.
Harry then became the impromptu tour guide, leading Legolas down the Alley, pointing out the buildings, telling him their names, and explaining their purposes and services they provided to wizards. Getting to Gringotts took double the time it should, but Harry didn't mind much. His spouse's enthusiasm and curiosity was nothing if not adorable, though Harry would never admit such a thing to Legolas' face.
However, the easy contentment of walking down the Alley, talking about all its little shops and boltholes, soon came to an abrupt end as Gringotts came into sight. Like being doused with a bucket of cold water, Harry's entire body tensed as they made their way closer and closer to the gilded doors that forewarned thieves of what they would find should they even attempt breaking into such a formidable bank owned by the goblin race.
Harry knew exactly what one would find down there, and he was not so sure he would be welcomed back through those same doors having blasted through them the last time on the back of an aged, half-blind dragon. But if nothing else, he had to try. Let no one call the Lone Warrior of Aratar a coward.
Legolas easily sensed his fear and fell silent, squeezing his hand in support as they lightly ascended the marble steps into the bank, past the sentinel goblin, who didn't even spare them a glance, surprisingly.
Harry treaded cautiously, fearing that they would be thrown out by some magical alarm or powerful goblin magic, maybe by the point of a sword, any second now. He was more worried for Legolas though than himself, knowing that while he had his wizarding magic to protect him, Legolas' inherent elven magic would not work well here in a room full of gold and stone. Unfortunately, he knew for a fact that Legolas would not take kindly to being told to wait anywhere while his spouse was in danger. Which was why Harry was ready at a moment's notice to shield Legolas from any unsavoury form of goblin revenge.
But no such attack had come yet.
Scanning the place constantly, from the vaulted ceiling to the marble floors and all the dark corners and possible hiding spots in between, Harry waited in line for a teller to open up with bated breath, still intent on visiting his vault and reviewing his assets.
This waiting for goblin retaliation was unbearable, and Harry was sure that was part of their plan as well.
One thing he had learned in Middle Earth was that he was a warrior above all else, as were the goblins, so he knew how they were viable to think. That nothing had happened to them so far was more than a little worrying and Harry was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Finally the teller at the very end of the lobby was free, and Harry stepped up with no little amount of trepidation. The goblin in question was currently counting out odd, copper-looking coins shaped like small birds.
"I wish to visit the Potter vault today," Harry said quietly with as much confidence as was afforded him, knowing that in addition to being a wanted criminal of the goblin nation he also had no wand or key to verify his identity.
The goblin looked up sharply at the request and his pale blue eyes widened slightly as his gaze wracked over Harry's face. Harry watched as the goblin searched for the telltale lightning bolt scar, the goblin's eyes narrowing in suspicion when he couldn't find even a trace of the cursed mark.
"Where's your wand, sir?"
Harry staid his expression and shook his head. "I lost it a long time ago." That was a story for another time, and not one he had any inclination of sharing with the goblins.
The goblin raised an eyebrow in disbelief, giving a look that Harry read as, 'do I look that stupid to you?'
"And your key?" he sneered derisively, his wispy, light brown eyebrows coming together in an arch. The goblin pushed himself up with his arms to lean over the pedestal separating them to glare down at Harry, giving Harry a view of his black suit, made of a thick, oddly soft looking material Harry had never seen before.
"I don't have it anymore."
The goblin leant back and shook his head, crossing his arms smugly as he did so. He opened his mouth to say something, no doubt deny Harry access without the required identifications, when Harry stepped forward until he was toeing the wooden barrier, and momentarily dropped the glamour he'd put on his features.
"I'm here to visit the Potter Vault," he repeated slowly, more forcibly than before, and just on this side of a threat. He knew he was already in hot water here, but he didn't take kindly to being pulled around like this.
Harry felt Legolas step closer to his side, showing a united front. If this goblin thought they were going to just back down, he had another think coming.
The goblin didn't back down either, but narrowed his eyes further and scrutinised Harry carefully for several long seconds, saying nothing. Harry used all his warrior knowledge and training as an elf to stay completely still during the scrutiny and not let any weaknesses show. He would prove to the goblins that he would not be cowed by anything they threw at him.
Finally, the goblin nodded, and abandoning his task, stepped down from behind the counter and beckoned Harry and Legolas to follow him round back.
Through a side door of unadorned wood that blended well with the wall, the trio entered a small, dimly lit room where a single, older looking goblin with a distinguishing number of rings in his right ear sat behind a desk, bent over a piece of parchment he was writing furiously on.
The teller bowed at the waist before the elder goblin and did not straighten back up until his superior raised his head and asked a question in Gobbledigook. The teller hesitated in his response, his gaze flickering to Harry, before answering with a tone of uncertainty in the same language.
The elder goblin looked up and surveyed Harry with a much fiercer gaze than the teller had.
"You claim to be Harry Potter," the goblin demanded accusatorily in a deep, scratchy voice that was offensive to the ear.
Harry refrained from wincing and nodded his head, "I am."
"You are what?" the goblin asked irritably, flicking his hand up like he didn't have the time to deal with such stupidity.
Harry narrowed his eyes in annoyance and said clearly, "Harry James Potter."
Two palm-sized crystal rocks, one purple, the other yellow, which Harry hadn't noticed upon entering, glowed brightly on the goblin's desk immediately after he spoke. Harry noticed five other rocks of different colours next to it and wondered what their purpose was.
"That you were," the elder goblin said softly, peering intently at the stones, still faintly glowing, "Mr Potter."
A muffled grunt of surprise came from the corner, where the teller had backed away after speaking with the elder goblin. When Harry returned to regard the goblin behind the desk again, he found his stare being met with steely grey eyes overshadowed by thick black eyebrows, an odd contrast to the rim of cropped grey hair around his ears.
"Welcome back to the wizarding world, Mr Potter," the elder said, in a much more respectful tone this time, leaving Harry both surprised and confused.
"Erm, pardon?" he asked. They couldn't possibly know that. At the back of his mind, Harry registered Legolas' mirroring shock and suspicion.
The goblin seemed unfazed by their reaction and merely nodded as though in agreement. "Your blood heritage as the Potter heir has been confirmed, as well as a change of conditions in name, marital status, and species," he said, indicating the seven crystals lined up at the edge of his desk as he did so, but didn't explain anymore. Harry got the impression that such information was goblin-censored and decided not to pry further. The fact that they knew all that from just two crystals lighting up was good enough for him.
That was, unless they knew more than they were telling and planning to use that information against Harry as retribution for crimes committed during the war.
Harry's gaze continued to level with the goblin in charge, who seemed to know exactly where Harry's mind was going and was so far content in watching Harry squirm internally, trying to figure out his next move.
Diplomacy and warfare could be surprisingly similar given the right circumstances, or so Harry thought. In this present situation, he thought the goblins would appreciate some honest bluntness.
"And what does that information mean to you? Am I free to access my vault?"
The goblin's expression was unreadable as he brought his hands up above the desktop and knotted his fingers together, the long nails clicking audibly, watching Harry carefully.
"I would first like to formally address the issue at hand, Mr Potter; Mr Longbottom's return of the Sword of Gryffindor on your behalf has mended any sour relations between us, and your status as a persona non grata has since been dropped. You are welcomed as a distinguished patron once more.
"I am Hall Master Grintok, and this is Vagnahk," he gestured to the teller still standing in the corner dutifully, "he'll be helping you today with anything you request."
Harry had not been expecting this. A fight perhaps, bribes of gold to allow him access to his vaults and entrance through the doors maybe, but a full pardon? Never. He would have to send Neville a big thank you, especially considering he most likely had done it after Harry had disappeared with no sign of returning. He also suspected that a fair amount of gold had also been donated on his behalf. He would be forever indebted to his fellow former Gryffindor.
"Thank you," Harry nodded his head in return, feeling a little disconnected with the moment, the whole thing being rather anticlimactic. But he still felt that more needed be said. "And I do apologise for unleashing the dragon on Gringotts. It was not my original intention to cause such destruction and anything I can do to help compensate the losses Gringotts inevitably took in light of my actions, I do so willingly."
The goblins were being more than diplomatic and Harry felt the obligation to return the gesture now that a fight of revenge and goblin glory was out of the picture. If Legolas and Gimli could become best of friends, then Harry could certainly repair this slight, given that the goblins were already amenable to such a discussion.
Grintok looked at him oddly for a moment, seeming to consider his offer.
"On behalf of the Goblin Nation, I accept your apology as an effort to start mending the bridge between the very old and illustrious Potter Family and the Goblins. We have not had any trouble with the Potters in the past and are eager to ameliorate the damaged relations.
"I will have Vagnahk lead you to your vault, now, if that is all."
Harry nodded in compliance, feeling like a weight had been removed from his chest knowing that he was no longer a wanted fugitive by the goblins. His imagination had been creating scenarios much worse than had played out this morning and he was glad that reality had nothing on his overactive imagination.
Taking the dismissal, Harry thanked Grintok for his time and turned to follow Vagnahk out the door and back into the main lobby.
As they walked over to the golden doors where a number of goblins dressed in simpler uniforms of black and grey were waiting to lead wizards down to their vaults, Vagnahk politely asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr Potter?"
"Would the Potter's will be in the vault?" Harry was unsure of the business side of things here, having really only gone through the wizarding schooling system and little else. But though elves didn't have a money system or banking, over 30 years as Legolas' consort and dealing with the workings of running a kingdom had given Harry a sharper mind for these sorts of things. And he knew there had to be more than he was told at 11 years old. Maybe Dumbledore would have told him more after the war if he hadn't died before the war had really begun.
In any case, Harry was back now and ready to have questions answered that had hung over his head for so long; questions about his parents, about being a Potter, and anything else about the wizarding world that he should have known growing up.
Vagnahk didn't look phased in the least though as he said, "Inheritances are not passed down in the same way in Magical World as in the Muggle. When you go into your vault, which will be different than the one which held your trust for your school funds when you were younger, you will find a statue bearing the Potter Crest. Place your hand over the crest and the rest will be self-explanatory.
"You have also been named sole beneficiary to the Black fortune; though, not being born a Black there are some restrictions to the traditional method. Wills or sorts are written up in such cases. I will have that ready for you by the time you and your partner return.
"Novgod," he added, gesturing forward one of the younger looking goblins standing in wait to be called for duty, "will bring you down to the Potter vault for now."
Harry thanked him for his assistance and time and then turned to breath a quiet sigh of relief, letting out all the pent up anxiety and apprehension he had been building since he had espied the magnificent from down the Alley. He was pretty sure he heard Vagnahk chuckle as he made his way to the back to fulfil Harry's request, though that could just be his overwrought imagination.
Nodding to himself and pressing his lips together in a half-formed grimace, Harry and Legolas walked over to the aforementioned Novgod, who proceeded to lead them through a set of golden doors and into the nearest cart.
As they were climbing in, Legolas leant over and whispered in Harry's ear, "I heard that comment about Gimli and I." Meaning he'd heard all the subtle, unspoken meaning behind it too, knowing the story behind not only Harry's misfortunate adventure into Gringotts during the war, but the strained relations between wizards and goblins over the years. It wasn't exactly a subtle comparison.
"I hadn't meant to be discreet about it," Harry informed him glibly, sitting down in the cart and putting his hand out to help Legolas do the same. "You know there is nothing to deny, which is why you're only mentioning it now," he said, smirking impudently.
"Hold on tight," Harry added in a serious tone before the conversation could continue. "I don't think you're going to like this."
And he was right. Legolas had barely opened his mouth to respond to Harry's earlier brazen comment when he immediately shut it again as the cart took off and dropped down in a sharp incline straight away. It was very similar to Harry and his friends' trip down to the Lestrange's vault at first, sans the dragons, but this time they went even deeper and the ride was much longer than his previous one.
Looking over at his spouse, Harry was beginning to regret having Legolas come along; he looked distinctly green around the gills. Ground moving unwillingly beneath an elf at speeds faster than the swiftest horse – even faster than the Mearas – was not welcome, and Legolas was clinging to the side of cart in one hand and had Harry's arm in a death grip in the other.
Harry, meanwhile, though an elf now and having become accustomed to his own Mearas, Rohna, still thought the whole ride was bloody brilliant, especially when he wasn't fearing being dropped mid-journey by The Thief's Downfall.
By the time the cart stopped, Legolas looked glued to the seat and Harry wondered whether it would not be a good idea to just leave him there.
'I'm coming,' Legolas said determinedly, his mouth still firmly shut and he was looking straight ahead, feeling that if he moved he would be sick.
'I guess I was under the false impression that elves were made of tougher stuff than that.'
Legolas didn't respond, but Harry could see his eyes narrowing in a glare, only he wasn't able to move his head yet to direct it at its intended recipient.
Done with the teasing, for now, Harry gently took Legolas' hand attached to the cart and unglued it finger by finger, and then immediately clasped it in his own. Standing slowly and taking Legolas with him – Legolas' other hand still gripping Harry's other arm – Harry carefully stepped off the cart and onto solid ground again.
"Better?" Harry asked kindly.
Legolas' breathed sigh of relief was answer enough.
"You're not going to need something stronger by the time we're done like a certain big friend of mine, are you?" Harry asked only half-teasingly as he slowly led Legolas to where Novgod was waiting by the vault entrance.
"Ae ta miruvor, sogathon," he muttered for Harry's ears alone, though he did look a bit better as they started walking. (If it's miruvor, yes/I'll drink it.)
"Sorry, I didn't think to bring that. I had an ice cream after my first time riding," he suggested blithely.
'Ice cream?' Legolas deadpanned, taking in the image Harry was sending him of his favourite sundae at Fortescue's. 'A human sweet?'
'I know, right?' Harry said seriously, 'There are some things Muggles and wizards are able to agree on,' he shook his head with a mock look of incredulousness on his face.
'You were nine,' Legolas said, choosing to ignore Harry's attempt at humour. His stomach wasn't in the mood at the moment.
'Eleven, thank you very much,' Harry glared indignantly, 'And now I'm 68, by my reckoning. I fail to see your point here.'
The amused grin on his face told otherwise.
However, they were now standing in front of the waiting goblin, who was looking at the couple suspiciously, causing Legolas to pause and refrain from retorting.
"It better be good, this ice cream," Legolas muttered out of the corner of his mouth, bringing forth an amused chuckle from Harry before the duo turned their full attention to the goblin.
Novgod was all business, immediately commanding Harry. "Put a hand on the phoenix's beak."
In the middle of the iron door was the relief of a phoenix, whose beak stuck out, open-mouthed, in mid cry. Harry reached up and laid a hand atop the cool surface as Novgod had instructed, and was shocked when the metal grew warm and red beneath his touch; the beak opened wider and emitted a beautiful song, though it was but an echo of the true phoenix call. It still put a smile on Harry's face, remembering Fawkes and the effect his song had had on strengthening Harry's will and warming his heart every time he heard it.
"You're magical signature and heritage as a Potter has been recognised; you may enter." Novgod moved out of the way as the phoenix melted fully into the smooth door and then the door melted away all together, opening to a shadowed entrance cut into the stone.
But Harry just stood there.
The last time he'd entered a vault in here he remembered a door shutting, locking them in a room full of burning, multiplying goblets, Galleons, armour, and jewels. He also remembered the mayhem that followed and escaping out of Gringotts' roof, through its marble floors, and out its front doors on the back of a half-blind dragon.
Novgod seemed to immediately sense his unease and correctly sussed out the problem. "You will find that in a vault that is your own, none can close the door other than the owner."
There was comforting assurance and a thorned jibe in that statement; Harry hoped Novgod wasn't one of the goblins who had confronted him, Ron, and Hermione outside the Lestrange's vault. Somehow he didn't think so. That story had likely to circulated around the bank faster than those Gringotts carts after the dragon had made its spectacular exit. Harry didn't dare ask how long that had taken to clean up, nor how much was lost in the escape. He was sure his vault would take a hit soon enough, if it hadn't already.
Taking the slight with good grace, he stepped determinedly into the vault with Legolas at his heels.
Unlike the cavern-like structure that was the Lestrange's vault, this made Harry think more of a cathedral with its towering, arched ceilings, shiny, mahogany walls, and marble pillars spread strategically throughout. The only thing one would not see in your typical cathedral was the mounds of gold, gems, jewellery, books, and other ancient, ornamental trinkets that could probably fetch a fortune if Harry cared to find out.
He immediately spotted the statue of the Potter Crest that Vagnahk had told him about. Right in their direct line of vision stood a short pedestal, no taller than Harry, that held a large family crest, spanning at least a foot in length, one unlike Harry had ever seen before. Cut in the shape of a large triangle, a sword that reminded Harry distinctly of the sword of Gryffindor cut through the middle in stark reds, blues, and yellows. Behind it, a phoenix flew, wings open, embracing the edges of the crest, its face upturned in mid-call.
A light push to his back had Harry stumbling forward before he regained his footing, quite quickly, and found himself in reaching distance to the crest. Not giving himself time to overthink it, Harry lifted a hand and pressed it up against the blade of the sword, palm covering it entirely, fingers curled slightly and touching the surprisingly soft neck of the phoenix. It almost felt like feathers were rising up to greet his touch.
Then without warning, a warm voice suddenly burst aloud in his head.
"Welcome, son of the Potter line, Erisdîr, Prince of Mirkwood, Lone Warrior, previously known as Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily nee Evans.
'Whoa,' Legolas intoned from behind.
Harry would have laughed at Legolas' response if he wasn't feeling the same sentiment himself. He could only tacitly agree and offer his only explanation to their question. 'Magic.'
He had a feeling this wouldn't be the only incident that would find him tongue-tied and amazed, but rather, only the first of many.
'It has been a long while since there was only one Potter left. And it looks as though you tend to leave it that way.'
Harry looked up and around. How could they possibly know that? The source of the voice had to be somewhere in this room to be able to see Legolas, or be sentient in some capacity to see inside Harry's head.
As Harry squinted his eyes against the glint of silver and gold to peer up into the rafters, he heard the voice chuckle. 'Wizards have learnt to avoid being seen if they so wish, but to disappear entirely is a gift still granted only to the phoenix and the one who bears the True Cloak of Invisibility.' A pause and Harry and Legolas looked at one another in shock. 'Namely, you, Prince Erisdîr –'
"But I don—," Harry started to interrupt.
' –and me.'
A phoenix!
A soothing, humorous trill echoed from the back of the room, followed by a blur of pure, fierce hot blue fire. Harry watched its quick progression as the fire took shape and a phoenix, a little bigger than Fawkes, alighted atop the Potter Crest. It's piercing blue eyes, the same colour of its fire, were the first thing Harry noticed. His eyes were then drawn to its deep purple and sapphire plumage that looked almost black in some light.
"Beautiful," Legolas whispered, enraptured by the sight before him. Harry, who had been familiar with another phoenix years ago was a little less in awe, but would be the first to admit that this bird was beauty beyond measure.
'Welcome, Master Potter,' the phoenix tilted its head to the side in greeting, 'And Prince Legolas. It has been a long time since I have shown myself, but you have proven yourself more than worthy, and that was only on Earth. I must admit that I know little of your otherworldly adventures as my Sight does not reach that far, even for the family I protect.'
Harry reached back and found Legolas' hand, then knotted their fingers together and squeezed, pulling his love even closer by his side as he stood and listened.
Harry bowed his head in turn, Legolas mimicking his actions at his side, and said with a little unease, "It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lady."
'Seryca. My name is Seryca, Prince Erisdîr. And you and your spouse are the first in the Potter line to see me since I vowed to protect your family almost a millennia ago.'
'Whoa,' Harry repeated Legolas' earlier assessment. He wasn't even sure where to begin with that one.
Legolas, though, seemed to have no such troubles.
"The Potter family is over a millennia old?"
Seryca's eyes sparkled with mirth at the blond elf. 'At least. They were one of the first human families to receive the gift of magic; a well-kept secret in itself, since Merlin managed to inadvertently reveal a lot in his old age.'
"My family knew Merlin?" Harry asked. For some reason he had assumed that Merlin had been a wizard alone in a time before magic truly existed, and only his great deeds had survived.
'Yes. Though I always thought your ancestor, Denholm Potter was a much more powerful wizard and better leader. He knew how to keep a secret from the Muggles better, a concept Merlin always had trouble with, what with running off to Camelot and becoming bosom buddies with their king, no less,' she said, and Harry could more than detect the disdain in her voice. ' Yes that kingdom needed help, but the only one worse at keeping a secret than Merlin was Arthur; those two were made for each other.'
Harry blinked. Oh. He certainly hadn't been expecting that.
Legolas, however, who had no preconceived notion of Camelot or King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, magical or otherwise, could only sense Harry's shock and had no trouble asking his next question. "If Denholm was such a great wizard, then why did you wait until now to show yourself to one of the Potter line?"
'To answer that,' Seryca paused and seemed to take great delight in her role as she did so, with Harry perceiving a smile in her voice, 'I would like to tell a short story that spans several ages.'
Harry wondered how that could be considered short, but wasn't about to stop the phoenix, curious to see what tale she had to tell. He and Legolas nodded and then waited with bated breath as she began.
'You already know the story of the three Peverell brothers and their encounter with Death.'
Harry nodded, he remembered well his chat with Xenophilius Lovegood and the man's subsequent betrayal in an attempt to save his daughter.
Those were dark times, he thought, often having wondered how he, Hermione, and Ron had made it through that year relatively unscathed. That is, if you didn't count the number of dangerous life-or-death battles they'd thrown themselves into, or the part where Harry actually died and came back to life to finish off Voldemort.
Dark times, indeed.
Harry winced as he realised that while nearly 50 years had passed for him since that time, it had been little more than a decade for the rest of the wizarding world and his friends. He wondered if they were completely recovered yet or just hiding it well.
Harry pushed that thought back for later when they saw Hermione and Ron again, and returned his attention to Seryca.
'What the story doesn't tell is what became of the Deathly Hallows after their masters' last and final encounter with Death.
'The brothers were seventh generation magic users, the Peverells being as old as the Potters, and just as prominent. All three of them had known that wizards, no matter how powerful or smart, were not immortal, and that something had to be done to ensure the Hallows were not lost. The plan was to pass them onto their daughters or nieces, who would carry a different name, and keep them safe that way. But of course, even the best laid plans of mice and men often fail.'
Harry's mind flashed to Rita Skeeter's book on Dumbledore; the man's plans with Grindelwald, his ideas for the Greater Good, and his attempts to manage Harry's life from the moment he dropped baby Harry off on the Dursleys' doorstep.
'Antioch Peverell was able to hold the wand for five years before it was stolen from him as a result of his own greed for power and less than subtle boasting. Unfortunately, he did not take the time to secure his gift and had no heir to continue his lineage. The Elder Wand was lost for centuries until it resurfaced in the early 20th century.'
Harry didn't need further explanation on that, and neither did Legolas. His portending thoughts of Dumbledore reawoke painful memories for Harry as the funeral at Hogwarts, visions of Gregorovith in Voldemort's mind, and the Final Battle coming to the forefront of his thoughts.
'The second brother, Cadmus, committed suicide from using the Resurrection Stone not long after he received it without making any efforts to safeguard it beforehand. Luckily, the youngest and last brother, Ignotus, was much more cautious and wisest of the three. He took the stone after finding his brother, and hid both Hallows away, never speaking of them again.
'The cloak, it was said, he passed onto his son. What was not known was that Ignotus had three children, one son...and two daughters.
'He alone of the three brothers kept to the plan and passed the cloak to his eldest daughter, and the stone to his youngest. The son became the sole heir of the Peverell line and carried on the noble name. The youngest daughter, who took the stone, married the heir to the Slytherin Family. The eldest daughter, who received the cloak, married a Potter.'
Seryca nodded down to the Crest she was perched on. 'Notice something about the shape; not seen on your typical coat of arms?'
It was a triangle.
And then it clicked for Harry; the triangle, the sign of the Deathly Hallows, and the Potters being descendants of Ignotus Peverell and owners of the Cloak of Invisibility. How had he not seen this right away?
"So the Potters were not just the eventual owners of the cloak through some twist of Fate and mixing bloodlines down the road?" Legolas asked, putting into words what Harry's had been led to believe through his Horcrux Hunt.
Tacit silence was their response. Harry's family had been older than anyone living had realised.
But perhaps if they had realised, they would not be as old as they are now either. And Harry – Erisdîr – was now putting an end to a line older than Merlin himself, and not just because he had married a man who was neither wizard nor Muggle; he had chosen to live in another world. It was unlikely that Valar intervention had been a possible problematic scenario for Ignotus and his brothers when they had been planning this all out to protect the Hallows. Only...
"I don't have the cloak. It was left here when I was sent to Middle Earth; Ron and Hermione probably have it now," he said to himself, assuming that one or both of them had taken what little possessions he had owned in the wizarding world. "The stone I lost in the Forbidden Forest on Hogwarts' grounds, and the wand I returned to Dumbledore's tomb."
If phoenix's could smile, Harry was sure this one would be right now.
'Yes, all correct. But you're forgetting one thing: You are still their master. Just because you rejected your title does not mean that should you call for them, the cloak, the stone, and the wand, would not be in your hand in an instant.'
Harry raised his hand, suddenly feeling compelled to do just that. Harry would recognise the feeling as instinct, the fight or flight part of his brain; specifically, the one occupied by magic. It was instinctual magic that answered to no rational thought and sang from his very blood. It was only the equally powerful assertion in his mind that rejected them, all the Hallows, indisputably that had him furiously pushing his hand back down to his side.
Seryca watched the odd display without comment before continuing.
'There has not been a Master of Death in all the time the Hallows have been at large. And I recognise that you have made many sacrifices to ensure that there is not one ever again. But just because you have rejected them and have chosen to leave Earth does not mean that this world is safe from them. They are still deadly objects that could do irreparable damage with a wizard finding just one of the Hallows; even at their weakest, they are still very powerful.'
Even after all this, his work still wasn't over. Just by letting the Hallows stay on Earth he was running a risk of them being found and used again, even though they would forever recognise Harry as their master.
They were still a threat to wizards everywhere.
Harry sighed. Even after all this, one conversation with a phoenix had him feeling like Harry Potter again, the unlucky orphan being handed a destiny beyond his years, though he no longer felt as young and naïve, thankfully.
But it was perhaps the fact that he now had more years than before, more understanding, more love that had him saying the following words that he'd promised himself he'd never say blindly again.
"What must I do?"
Legolas squeezed his hand and pressed up against Harry's side. "Only you and hobbits,"he said softly as he looked fondly at Harry. "Learn all you can about them and even after a hundred years they still surprise you."
Harry recognised those words from Frodo's part in Lord of the Rings, the words he'd written that Gandalf had said to him the night the old wizard had told him about the One Ring. But instead of giving into the gravity of the situation, Harry felt the need to add a bit of gaiety to the atmosphere.
"We haven't known each other for a hundred years yet. I think old age is finally getting to you if you've forgotten that much."
"And we will never get to even a hundred if you keep being so irresponsibly brave like this," Legolas replied, taking Harry face in his hands and kissing him. "What am I going to do with you?"
"First of all," Harry said, wagging his finger at his spouse with a put-upon frown, "It's not irresponsible, quite the opposite, actually – not that a silly elf like you would know such a thing," he teased hollowly, "And second, you knew exactly what you were getting into from the very start, so I am hardly inclined to take pity on you at the moment. Besides," he shrugged, "we've survived through much worse before. Don't be such a worrywart," he admonished with a shake of his head.
"Now," Harry turned around and slipped his arm through Legolas', fixing his eyes on Seryca. Turning his head back to Legolas, he smiled and said, "Make yourself useful for once and pay attention."
Still staring at the side of Harry's head, Legolas rolled his eyes and smiled back, "I'll try." Turning to Seryca as well, he asked, "What must we do?"
'I believe it will be much simpler than either of you are dreading, though I do much admire the commendable valour shown.
'When it is time for you to go again, you will call all the Hallows back to you, and leave Earth for the last time, taking them and me with you back to Middle Earth, for good.'
Seryca adjusted her footing on her perch as she looked carefully at Harry, and then Legolas, letting the gravity of her words sink in. They would be taking back to Middle Earth not only the Deathly Hallows, curse of the wizarding world, but a spirited phoenix as long lived as the elves to boot.
For some reason, Harry didn't think anyone in the wizarding world would be happy with their intended plans. The only question left now was how much longer they would stay on Earth, and how he would tell Ron and Hermione they would be leaving again never to come back.
...
Several hours later saw Harry and Legolas emerging from Gringotts' gilded doors out into the daylight once more. And the first stop on their list was Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.
Harry gazed down at the thick Potter Family ring that had appeared on his ring finger the moment he'd accepted his status as Head of Potter House. It was amazing how much they'd done in so little time.
Seryca had promised to sort things in the Potter vault between what could be left here and what was too dangerous to stay in the wizarding world without a Potter Family Head present. Those items, along with the Hallows and the phoenix herself, would be going back home with Legolas and Harry when the time came. The rest of the Potter valuables and gold, including the Black Vault, was currently in the paperwork process of being bequeathed to the newly established vault of one Ms Hermione Granger-Weasley.
They had soon found out after securing a plan and leaving the Potter Vault that once Sirius' name had been officially cleared, Harry was formally made the head of the Black Family and given access to all their accounts, including that of the Lestrange's. The irony of the timing of everything was maddening, but Harry figured he wouldn't have known about it in time to make use of the information anyway, so it was no use griping about it now.
If Harry had heard about this prior to the nightmare that was their seventh year, he probably would have thrown a tantrum worthy of Dumbledore's office. Thankfully he was no longer as volatile with a Horcrux in his head and was even able to grimly chuckle at the unlucky irony of the entire situation that had befallen him as a teenager, when he was just technically on the cusp of adulthood. Whoever had decided that 17 years of age equated to able maturity was completely daft. Yes they had been mature, but hardly able, and only just willing.
"I've missed this," Harry said as he stuck his spoon into his sundae. There were few things Middle Earth didn't have that Harry missed, his friends being in a different category entirely, but ice cream was definitely one of them. He supposed he was lucky that the Dursleys had been so dead set against doing little more than feeding and clothing him with the barest effort; one could almost say he had little to really miss besides a handful of treasured people.
"I can't really see why," Legolas was looking down at his dish in confusion as though he wasn't sure what judgement to pass on the dessert just yet. Harry had recommended a scoop of pistachio knowing of his partner's aversion to sweet things and love of nuts. Unfortunately for Legolas, ice cream was sweet by nature. But at least Harry knew his dish of triple nut chocolate fudge with whipped cream and pecans was safe from prying spoons.
"This is hardly a good substitute for a strong draft of miruvor," Legolas said, continuing to glance dubiously at his sweet, having not touched more than a spoonful since he sat down with it.
"Fine. I wanted some ice cream and used you to get it. But you can't say it's too sweet." Harry leant over and used his fudge-covered spoon to scoop a bit out of Legolas' and try it for himself, ignoring Legolas' cringe as flecks of chocolate sauce mixed in with the light green ice cream. He shook his head as he let it melt in his mouth. "That's hardly sweeter than the sugared nuts you favour."
Legolas looked down at his dish and the twice-bitten mound of ice cream before admitting, "It's cold."
Harry's loud, delightful laughter that, like most elves, sounded like the sweet ringing of bells or the cheerful crash of ocean waves upon the shore caught the attention of most of the patrons in the shop. Almost every head swivelled in the direction of the pair, freezing mid-bite, mid-conversation, and even mid-chew to look at what had caused such an oddly enchanting sound.
But for once, the hyper attention of the wizarding world did not deter or embarrass Harry in the slightest. He road out the wave of laughter without a care, completely ignoring Legolas' sour look, before finally settling down and falling silent.
Legolas had realised by this point how foolish his statement was, but did not deign to respond to his husband and instead pushed his dish away from him across the table. He was no more interested in drinking ice cream soup than he was eating cold spoonfuls of the stuff, and simply watched resignedly as Harry finished his with an ever-present grin on his face.
It was a good thing Harry did not pick at his food like a bird, as some elves had habit to do, because he didn't have to wait for long before they were cleaning up and heading out back into the Alley.
Legolas gave the wizarding establishment one last long and mournful look. He doubted he would ever see the likes of such a place again and was reluctant to leave just yet.
"We'll be back before we return home," Harry reminded him, pulling him out onto the streets and leading him to disappear into the growing, early afternoon crowd. "And we'll visit in between if you like as well; we'll even check out Hogsmeade, the only all-wizarding settlement in Britain."
That seemed to pique Legolas' interest, and Harry made a mental note to see what other wizarding establishments they could check out in their temporary home while they were here. He himself was interesting in seeing how other wizards lived, doubting that the British standard was it.
Harry looked over at Legolas and smirked before grabbing his arm and pulling them into a small niche between two buildings that were slanting dangerously towards each other, most likely being kept up with magic alone, like many things in the wizarding world.
Reaching over, he caught Legolas' chin as he turned to ask Harry what he was doing, and pulled him in for a long, slow, amorous kiss, which Legolas gladly returned in kind.
Pulling apart, Harry kept their faces close as he breathed, "There, your pick-me-up until we can get our hands on some miruvor."
Legolas' pleased smile told him that he would no longer have to worry about that.
"Glad that worked," Harry said, running his fingers along the side of Legolas' face, "Now I won't have to bother with trying to find you a small, barely-alcoholic drink that actually tastes good. I doubt we'd be able to find anything up to your high standards at The Leaky Cauldron anyway," Harry said softly, shaking his head in amusement.
Legolas took the ribbing in good nature and replied, "Alright, I think I've had enough of these busy streets now." He looked out from the side alley onto a scene of a child tugging on his mother's robes, wailing about a broom he wanted to ride a few stores back. "Now how about we take that magic key –"
"A portkey."
" – to the beautiful forest Vagnahk was telling us about –"
"New Zealand."
" – and stay there until Ron and Hermione return?"
"I like the sound of that," Harry agreed, even though the plan had already been set.
They weren't worried about staying close by in England anymore. Earlier in Gringotts, they'd sent a note to Hermione's flat that would alert them by touch the moment the newly weds were home by either Ron or Hermione picking it up; a trick of goblin magic that had had both Harry and Legolas amazed.
Even after years of being in the magical world, learning new magics, and coming into his own as a powerful wizard, Harry could still honestly say that magic continued to surprise him in new ways. This time it had been goblin magic, and he could honestly say with much certainty that he was relieved to be on their good lists again.
Glancing out at the Alley again to see that no one was paying them any mind and that they were well hidden enough, Harry took out one of the small portkeys he'd gotten from Vagnahk, the one marked, New Zealand.
Now they had a couple of weeks to look forward to in the forests of New Zealand. It would be a much more comfortable stay than the old Black residence by far, but Harry was just looking forward to curling up on a thick tree branch and getting a good night's sleep tonight under the naked moon and fresh air.
Legolas mirrored that sentiment and reached out to touch, with only a hint of hesitation this time, the warped bottle cap in Harry's palm.
"Hold on tight," Harry warned, repeating his words from earlier, "I don't think you're going to like this much either." Harry knew he wasn't that fond of any methods of wizarding travel, but at least he was more prepared than Legolas.
Legolas took the extra precaution of grabbing tightly onto Harry's arm with his other hand. Once Harry was sure they were ready, he glanced around one last time before speaking the activation spell.
They disappeared from the Alley instantly as everything whirled away in a wild wind of colour and sound.
...
...
A/N: Next chapter: Middle Earth! (Seriously, this time)
Sorry for the wait. I'd told you classes were starting again. Thoughts of story and plot were wiped clean from my mind as I got back into a routine of work and classes and homework. All that boring stuff; thankfully it's not all so.
I also got a little side-tracked with a new one-shot of Legolas/Harry that got stuck in my head – so be on the lookout for that, if you're interested– but thankfully I was able to eventually turn my attentions and efforts back to finishing this chapter. So I hope you all enjoy and I will continue to try updating this story as frequently as possible.
