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Chapter 8:

A fortnight had gone by since Thranduil witnessed the disturbing dream of Electra serving detention with her friends in the Forbidden Forest and he had not been pleased. Ever since that night, the King had been on edge and demanded nobody from his Realm disturb him unless there was a happenstance of utmost importance.

Thankfully, his dreams of late had been peaceful; Electra, Neville and Lavender have been able to keep the rabble-rousing to a minimum, and engaged themselves in the impressive library studying for the end of year tests.

He coordinated a meeting with Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and Mithrandir, and they had finally deemed him with their presence more than a fortnight since the troubling event occurred. There was a melancholy silence in his private quarters as King Thranduil regaled the events; he explained to the best of his ability what a unicorn was, the 'centaurs' and their ominous predictions. But it was the fact of the Dark Istari still being in the land of living that had the ire of the three, mutterings reverberating in the air.

Lady Galadriel couldn't help but visibly flinch when Thranduil allowed her access into his mind, sanctioning her to view the happenings that transpired in the forest.

"So, the Dark Istari, Lord Voldemort still lives," Mithrandir inquired nervously, his wizened face drawn in concern as he smoked on his pipe in worriment, not noticing that it had long gone out during his pondering.

"Yes," Thranduil let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I did not luck out with garnering a good look of his face; he was a hooded finger, drinking the blood of a fallen unicorn."

"Remarkable; from what your description informs us, these unicorns are a symbol of light and pureness, a symbol of peace," Elrond said in awe; he did not know why he was surprised; Earth had marvelous creations, unlike Arda, and Elrond actually found himself looking forward to these regular congregations.

"According to Firenze, the young centaur, to drink the blood of a unicorn, a creature so pure, it would give you a half-life, but a cursed life. Unicorn blood can bring you back from the brink of death," Thranduil exposed, repeating verbatim.

Lady Galadriel sorrowfully shook her head, her lips pursed, "But at a horrible cost. Nothing is worth living a cursed life. This Dark Istari's evil-doing knows no bound, mellon nin."

"I fear what his next executed actions shall be," Thranduil sighed worriedly. "I grow weary of these dreams, mellon nin," he suddenly confided in them, drawing himself apprehensive looks, "To stand aside and perform nothing, unable to hand out aid, it tires me greatly."

Lady Galadriel placed a soothing hand over Thranduil's, a soft smile on her face, "You are strong, mellon nin, King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. Have faith in the Valar and their doing."

*** (The Elvenking & the Pure of Heart) ***

Over the course of the next passing days, Thranduil witnessed the trio accomplish their tests to their greatest abilities. Thranduil's eyes lit up with mirth when the cat professor warned the Gryffindors that they will be given special quills for their tests, bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell, and he didn't fail to miss out the glum expressions on the redheaded twins' faces – something he believed to be a yearly ritual.

Thranduil proudly beamed when Electra went through every test extraordinarily, answering the written examinations with deft prowess and casting brilliantly for the practical ones.

Lavender was proficient as well, though not as competent as Electra, Thranduil was positive in his observations that the two girls would pass with brilliant results. However, poor Neville wasn't achieving his greatest abilities, and he pitied the poor boy. Thranduil knew that the boy was a remarkable Istari; however, he had no confidence – hopefully, the coming year, he would discover his inner valor.

Unfortunately, not all was well during the examination period. Thranduil observed how Electra's scar would inflame at random moments; Electra constantly rubbed her peculiar scar in aggravation and could be seen complaining to Lavender and Neville of her gruesome dreams depicting a hooded figure, dripping blood ever since her encounter in the depths of the forest.

Thranduil willingly followed the trio once the last exam – History of Magic, ended. He loomed over them as they basked in the beautiful summer day nearby the lake where the redheaded twins and their dark-skinned friend with a peculiar hairdo were currently tickling the giant squid.

"I wish I knew what this means," Electra whined as she rubbed her scar once more. Thranduil's face shone with worriment, and he wasn't the only one; Lavender shifted slightly and said, "Maybe Madam Pomfrey could help out …"

But Thranduil inwardly smiled at that, he knew that Electra despised visiting the healing quarters and would rather soldier on in pain then achieve aid from the matronly healer. As expected, she shook her head and said, "I'm not ill. I think it's a warning … it means danger's coming."

Neville's round face frowned in concern, "If you're thinking anything about Snape and the Stone, then you should relax. As long as Dumbledore is around then we have nothing to worry about, Elle."

There was a nice moment of tranquility before Electra suddenly shot up from the ground, her face tight with apprehension as she ran along the steep path to the giant's hut with a bewildered Lavender and Neville not far behind.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think?" Electra rapidly explained to her two friends.

Oh, Eru. Thranduil's eyes threatened to bulge out from their sockets at her words. Clever girl.

An ominous feeling stirred in the atmosphere as he pondered the meaning behind this clue. It was a delicately prepared plan; the stranger who had bestowed the giant with the accursed dragon egg purposely tricked information out of him to get the Stone.

And the giant had just confirmed it to the trio.

"Did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Lavender hesitantly asked.

"Well – yeah –how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep –"

"YOU FOOL!" Thranduil roared at the top of his lungs. Not only had he been hoodwinked, but he had just given three children dangerous information.

Thranduil followed the trio back into the castle, breathing a sigh of relief when they mutually agreed it was best to finally inform Albus Dumbledore. He face palmed however, when the cat professor notified them that the old man wasn't at the castle; if only that were so, the cat professor didn't believe the trio when they informed her that someone was about to steal the Stone.

The Race of Men does not take children seriously, thinking them jesters who create false tales and accusations, and so, the cat professor sent them back to their dormitories, completely dismissing their warnings and concerns with nothing but suspicion.

King Thranduil felt torn when Electra adamantly decided to recover the stone before the mystery perpetrator; he didn't know if he should feel pride over her bravery, or distraught over her placing herself in imminent danger once again.

But when Electra made a moving speech of how the Dark Istari killed her parents and if he retrieved the Stone their lives would all be forfeit sooner or later, Thranduil grudgingly agreed the child made an established point.

"I'll just use the Invisibility Cloak," Electra breathed out, "It's just lucky I got it back."

"But will it cover all three of us?" Neville asked. Thranduil beamed at the close friendship; when Electra gaped at the round and forgetful boy in shock, Lavender scoffed, informing her that they would never leave her side, and Thranduil knew that Electra Amycate Potter had been blessed with loyal and brave companions.

As Thranduil silently followed the invisible trio in their wake like a ghost, his thoughts revolved around the late James and Lily Potter – they sacrificed their lives for Electra, to live in a world of peace and safety; however it didn't go as planned. Electra's first year, she had been placed in constant danger, and a pang hit his chest, thoughts of Legolas being in her situation was too much for the bitter King to imagine.

Other than a run in with the nuisance poltergeist, the destination to the third floor corridor went without a hitch; Thranduil held his breath when the door opened and the beast was fast asleep – a harp lay by its monstrous feet, deeming the trio's accusation to be true.

Electra began to play an enchanting melodic tune with a harp as Lavender and Neville pushed aside the feet of the creature and opened the trapdoor. His ghostlike form stood above the trapdoor and with his impeccable eyesight, he recognized plants lay at the bottom. Knowing this magical institution by now, Thranduil knew they would be met with a disastrous situation, yet he could not waylay his thoughts to the trio.

He could only watch with dread as one by one, the three children dropped down to the bottom before the creature's fangs could sink into them.

Before Thranduil vanished from his spot and to the children below, he heard a loud THUMP.

"Stop moving, both of you," Neville cried out, his plump face screwed in worriment, "This is Devil's Snare!"

Thranduil's crystal blue eyes widened in fear when he took note of the many snakelike tendrils twisting around the two girls' ankles, bounding tightly in long creepers without their notice. Thranduil also took note that the more the children moved, the faster the tendrils wrapped around them in indignation.

In fact, clumsy, forgetful Neville seemed to be the only one not wrapped in its ensnaring clutches, and crystal eyes rounded in comprehension before a sigh of relief emanated from his mouth; Neville Longbottom was a master in Herbology – they would depart from this gruesome scene safely with their lives intact.

"Devil's Snare likes the dark and the damp," Neville mumbled to himself before he unsheathed his wand and whispered out, "Incendio." A few sweat beads dripped down his forehead in consternation as he tried to concentrate on perfecting the spell.

Thranduil watched in awe as flames erupted around them and the plant screeched loudly, disentangling from the two Istari's and retreating – cringing away from the light and warmth. The three Istari's dropped down below and when Thranduil rejoined them once again, he smiled fondly at the scene –

The two girls were embracing their shy friend, congratulating him graciously and complimenting him on his Herbology skills.

The next task was simpler; Electra triumphantly got them across the room onto the other side by flying on a broomstick and catching an archaic, weathered flying key; a groan escaped the bitter King's lips when he recognized the task in the chamber ahead.

A giant chessboard stood innocently, and Thranduil knew that this was not Electra's expertise. It was up to Lavender and Neville who were mediocre in the strategic game, and for the first time, Thranduil moaned the loss of the redheaded Weasley's friendship, for the King knew that boy was incredibly skillful in chess.

Thranduil himself was adept in the game – after all, he had many millenniums of proficient knowledge and as a King of an entire Realm, one must be a connoisseur in strategy.

He winced and flinched many times upon noticing their countless mistakes, thankfully none of them got injured however … until the end that is.

Neville – brave and courageous Neville, had no choice but to sacrifice himself so that Electra could checkmate the King and go through the chamber on the other side. Although the two witches were uncomfortable with leaving him behind, they had no choice and Thranduil was grateful that the Troll in the next chamber had already been defeated.

The abhorrent hook-nosed professor had a logic test as their last task, and Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief knowing that Electra was skilled in the art of potion-making. The two witches had many ounces of logic, and together, they battled through the puzzling riddle.

Unfortunately, there was only enough potion for one swallow, meaning only one would be able to gain entrance to the next chamber. Thranduil should not have been surprised when Electra offered herself up, and practically ordered Lavender to wake Neville up and try to contact the old man.

The ominous feeling returned tenfold and Thranduil's blood turned to ice when he noticed the professor with the lurid turban stood calmly on the other side, staring intently at the familiar mirror of desire.

"You!" Electra gasped, stilling in shock – and she wasn't the only one; Thranduil had been positive it would be the abhorrent greasy professor. "But I thought – Snape –"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and Thranduil narrowed his eyes when he noticed that the professor seemed to have garnered his wits and miraculously halted his ridiculous stuttering. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p=poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

That dratted bastard, Thranduil fumed in silent rage. He had been faking that aggravating stutter all year. His jaw managed to successfully drop when Quirrell informed Electra that the abhorrent professor had actually been protecting her all year long. The lurid turban Professor had been cursing her broomstick and Snape had been muttering the counter-curse.

Thranduil leaned against the wall in surprise, his eyes flickering around the chamber for a sort of exit. However, even if the King located one, he had no way of informing the child of a successful escape, and so, he hoped her companions and the old man would arrive in the nick of time.

Of course, Quirrell let the troll in – like himself, Electra didn't seem surprised anymore. The only surprising comment was that Snape had been protecting her and hated her father; thankful now for Snape's heroism, it gave him no excuse to hate on an innocent child due to a rivalry between her long deceased father.

A child should never be blamed for the sins of the father.

Halfway through the conversation, a chilling and cold voice echoed around the chamber to use the girl and Thranduil's icy heart leapt out of place. With his impeccable eyesight, Thranduil did not fail to notice a circular lump suddenly appear in Electra's pocket, and he knew it to be the Stone. However, Electra failed to fool the mysterious voice, and Thranduil desperately wanted to rip out his eyes at the gruesome sight he was met with.

The Dark Istari had been in the castle all year, attached to the back of Quirrell's head, hidden in the damning lurid turban. When Quirrell unwrapped the turban, a terrible, chalk white face with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils was given wide berth and Thranduil honestly felt nauseous.

When he had observed the Dark Istari kill the elder Potters eleven years ago, he never had the pleasure of witnessing the face covered under the hood – until now. How much dark sorcery managed to convert the Istari into such a pitiful and horrid sight?

The Dark Istari began taunting the death of the valorous James and Lily Potter, and Thranduil felt rage like never before. Electra thankfully didn't believe the deceitful words and refused to return the Stone.

Worry flooded Thranduil's veins when Quirrell attacked the little girl; worriment transformed into awe and confusion when the Dark Istari began burning, his skin charring at the simple contact of skin with Electra.

Horrid hair-raising screeching of the Dark Istari filled the chamber as Electra pounced and grabbed his face turning him into ash, and Thranduil watched in horror when Quirrell combusted and Electra fainted, just as the old man ran into view and the spirit of the Dark Istari fled the premises.

*** (The Elvenking & the Pure of Heart) ***

King Thranduil had been in an explosive mood for three days; he had awoken from his slumber when Electra Amycate Potter fainted, and ever since that night, he had been dreaming of nothing ever since.

Absolutely nothing.

For the next three days, he would awake by dawn to continue his Kingly duties with no dreams of the endearing child he had been growing fond of. It was almost as though she had passed over into the land of the dead, and Thranduil's bad mood would incline with each passing day.

He prayed to the Valar every night before he would give in to hiss unconsciousness to see the little Istari that had begun to have a firm hold on his bitter heart, yet he would dream of nothing but darkness.

Servants scrambled away from his ire and even his son, Legolas and Captain of the Guard, Tauriel managed to keep a large distance from his vexatious mood.

Thank Eru, on the third night, Thranduil found himself situated in the Healing Quarters, staring down at a frail, pale and weakened Electra Potter, speaking to the old man of the happenings that occurred under the trapdoor. Thranduil's heart threatened to explode with joy – he couldn't have the young Istari die on him; she was too important, for some confusing purpose.

King Thranduil curiously listened in to their enthralling conversation about the Stone and the Dark Istari. The old man had the Stone destroyed after a lengthy conversation with his friend Nicholas Flamel; it was a well-done strategic move – the Dark Istari would now have no way of returning from his spirit form with the Stone destroyed.

When Electra asked Dumbledore about Voldemort not being gone, he spoke words that chilled the King to his bones, "No, Electra, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share … not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Electra, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle – and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

So the Dark Istari shall return – from what Thranduil gathered from Albus Dumbledore's speech, it was inevitable. The Dark Istari who seemed to have a personal unknown vendetta with the little girl shall return someday and come after her.

Electra asked the question that had plagued not only his thoughts, but the thoughts of Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond and Mithrandir, and King Thranduil leaned forward curiously, not wanting to miss the response.

"Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried stopping him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?" – Why indeed?

The old man sighed deeply, his face crinkled in sadness, "Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day … put it from your mind for now, Electra. When you are older … I know you hate to hear this … when you are ready, you will know."

And although Thranduil was disappointed with the lack of response, he knew that the old man was correct with his reasoning. Electra was merely an eleven year old child, and she deserved the peace of mind to act like one until the horrid truth comes out. The Elven King would have to curb his insatiable curiosity until the time arrives.

Another curious question; why couldn't Quirrell touch her?

Tears threatened to drop from crystal blue eyes; Lily Potter had died to save Electra. Her love was powerful enough it left a mark on the little girl … according to the old man, to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. In Electra's skin. Voldemort couldn't touch her since she was marked by something so good and so pure; love; a mother's love.

Oh, Lainathiel. Thranduil tried collecting his thoughts, not wanting to weep like a babe over his lost love; Lily Potter was an admirable woman, an admirable mother and an admirable Istari. Protecting her only child in her last moments, even in death she continued to protect her child from the Dark Istari with a vendetta, and that was simply admirable.

A smile appeared on Thranduil's face when the mysterious sender turned out to be the old man – the Invisibility Cloak belonging to her late father; an heirloom. She deserved to have belongings of her parents.

As it turned out; James Potter saved Snape's life, and he returned the life debt by protecting Electra all year so that he could return to hating the man in peace. A frown puckered on the King's flawless face; he was an expert in detecting lies, and although he noticed no deception from the old man, he could tell that it was only a half-truth; there was more to the mind-boggling actions of the abhorrent professor.

However, King Thranduil must admit, the old man was a genius, a mastermind and a prodigy. Lady Galadriel would take immense interest in the old Istari. The mirror of desire was enchanted by him to only give the Stone to an Istari who wanted to find the Stone, and not use it.

Yes, Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien would be pleased with meeting the old Istari personally; the Elven King could already see that they would get along swimmingly.

*** (The ElvenKing & the Pure of Heart) ***

The first year of Hogwarts had come to a close; Gryffindor won the House Cup due to the trio's adventure under the trapdoor and the three companions promised each other to stay in contact with each other, along with the redheaded twins who seemed to have taken a liking to the Gryffindors triad.

Thranduil held suspicions that perhaps one of the twins were incredibly fond and had taken a romantic liking to Lavender, yet he dismissed the thought as quick as it had come to mind – the girl was still too young, not having peeked adulthood.

A month went by, and Thranduil tried creating harmony in the Elven Kingdom. It was not fair to his people to gain his ire due to the despicable treatment of the Dursleys.

King Thranduil did not know whether he preferred Electra to be in constant danger at Hogwarts or bullied and starved at Privet Drive with her horrid kin.

Her fat uncle would yell at her if she uttered the word 'Magic', berating her for using the 'M' word around them in their perfectly normal and picturesque house – how utterly foolish of the man. Her shrew of an aunt would barely give her a proper meal for nourishment and order her around the house as though she were their personal servant. And the fat glutton would whine around the house like an indignant child, bossing her and his parents as though he were a Prince of all things; the swine.

They also locked all her schooling material in the cupboard under the stairs – the meager space that used to be known as Electra's room for ten years; that made Thranduil snarl and clench his fists at the dratted reminder.

If that weren't enough, poor Electra Amycate Potter received no letters from her best friends; although they had all promised her, they seemed to have failed and forgotten about her existence. Thranduil was forced into watching the poor girl tread between the lines of depression and loneliness.

Her birthday came around another month later, and not a word was uttered. No cake, no presents, no letters, no well wishes; nothing. The shrew ordered her clean the house, barely gave her a decent meal and then proceeded to lock her in her room where she had been warned to pretend she didn't exist and not utter a sound, since the fat beast had a business dinner prepared.

However, that night, everything began to change.

Thranduil was shocked to the core when he entered her room to see a disgustingly brown and skinny creature bouncing on her bed; it had bulging green eyes a shade lighter than Electra's, the size of a giant gem, and he recognized it to be similar to the giant orbs that had been watching her pluck out the garden weeds.

Shockingly, the creature jumped off the bed and bowed so low, the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpeting on the floor. Thranduil's forehead scrunched in confusion when he recognized the creature to be wearing a dirty, old pillowcase with rips for its arms and legs.

What in the Valar was this creature, and why in Eru is it dressed in such a manner?

Electra hadn't been able to pick up her bearings as she timidly stared at the creature in astonishment, especially when it suddenly spoke up in a high-pitched voice, "Electra Potter. So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, miss … Such an honor it is …"

Thranduil and Electra winced in unison; this Dobby was it? This odd-named creature's high, shrilling voice had definitely reached the ears of the other mortals having dinner. Why did this strange creature that seemed to be an adoring fan of the 'Girl-Who-Lived' choose this night of all nights to visit her? What horrid timing.

"Umm, not wanting to be rude or anything," Electra timidly said, "But can you please keep your voice down. Now, who are you?"

"Dobby, miss. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf."

EXCUSE ME? I BEG ITS PARDON! HOUSE-ELF!

What in Eru is a house-elf? That creature looks nothing like an elf, and King Thranduil was deeply insulted that such a creature shared the same title as his Race. Elves were superior beings with elegant and breathtaking beauty, not such a shriveling and wrinkled creature dressed in poor garbs.

However, Thranduil's fury dissipated when this Dobby began wailing just because Electra offered him a seat. Apparently, a wizard had never asked him to sit down like an equal, and King Thranduil found it utterly barbaric – he never treated his servants as though they were animals without feelings, no matter how cruel he could be under his rule.

Dobby stared at Electra with adoration, and Thranduil found it slightly creepy behavior. His jaw slackened with disbelief when Dobby began bashing his head hard against the window squealing, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" countless times, causing a racket.

"Dobby had to punish himself, miss. Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, miss."

"Your family?"

"The wizard family Dobby serves, miss. … Dobby is a house-elf – bound to serve one house and one family forever."

A predatory growl rumbled in the King's throat when Electra asked Dobby if the family knew he was with her, and when it shuddered in fear and said, "Oh, no, miss, no … Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, miss. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew miss –"

His masters were despicable; whoever this family – they were utterly barbaric. And when Dobby commented that his family that he serves reminds him to do extra punishments … Thranduil's ire increased drastically. Such cruel Istaris … The Race of Men could be so cruel at times.

His interest and worriment was peaked however when Dobby let out an ominous warning; Electra Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.

"There is a plot, Electra Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year. Dobby has known for months, miss. Electra Potter must not put herself in peril. She is too important, miss."

Thranduil wanted to rip out his well-groomed hair; another plot, another dangerous year. Would the young Istari ever have a moment of rest? If she stayed with her kin, she would suffer, and if she left to the magical institution, she would place herself in utmost danger. It was a lose, lose situation, and Thranduil knew that like Electra, he preferred her to be in Hogwarts under adult supervision.

Dobby wouldn't utter a word of the mastermind behind the dangerous plot, but Thranduil had an inkling it was the master he served. He continuously banged his head on the wall and when Electra refused to give her word that she would stay with her kin, the house-elf went into a frenzy.

His knuckles whitened when Dobby admitted he had been stopping the letters from her friends and pulled out a large stack of unread envelopes. Apparently, the annoying house-elf hoped that if Electra thought her friends had forgotten about her, she wouldn't want to return; that daft, meddling house-elf.

Dobby then proceeded to run downstairs and use some strange brand of silent magic to smash the giant desert the shrew spent hours making on the ground before disappearing, with a farewell of, 'it was for her own good.'

Electra's threat of being able to use magic out of school had all but vanished when an owl arrived with a letter giving her a warning otherwise she would be expelled from the institution if she used magic once more and the fat uncle dragged her into the room and locked her up.

Thranduil wished for nothing but to tear that creature apart for causing the young Istari more misery and he could do nothing but watch as they starved her for days on end, only allowing her reprieve to empty her bladder twice a day.

The King of the Elven Realm prayed to the Valar once again that Electra would be saved from the hellish house of her kin before she died of starvation.

A/N: Whew, this was a long chapter.

We have finally reached Book 2: The Chamber of Secrets; maybe 2 or 3 chapters more and we'll reach Book 3. Did you like Thranduil's reactions? Especially when he found out about house-elves.

More to come & sorry for keeping you all waiting for this chapter. I will try and get the next chapter out soon.

R&R.