A/N: Hello all, I am back with a short chapter this time, but it does sort out a few loose ends and updates everyone with goings on at Hogwarts.

Reviews, I have reviews! Including questions, so here are answers:

KiBird : Understandable, but fear not – something will eventually happen to derail Luna's complacency. Can't give details, but she's not destined to have everything go right for her...

Independence-Day : Legolas? Physically anyway, I'm working off the movie-version – pale skin, pointy ears, tall and thin, long blonde hair, dark eyes, wearing either traditional Elven green or brown tunic and cloak, or wizarding robes in his future incarnation. I don't picture him sounding much like Orlando Bloom though, I imagine him as being lighter-voiced.

Emmettluvr27 : Calenlass detesting Lupin is probably the most controversial bit so far – but it will get resolved. From Calenlass's perspective, he was young when he left Middle Earth, and spent most of that time growing up under Sauron's shadow and anything setting off his sense of Dark magic was automatically evil and to be killed. He's spent the intervening millennia in Valinor where all is sweetness and light, and now he's back in a world where there's both evil and good, but unfortunately for him, not conveniently divided into Order supporters and Death Eaters. So he has Lupin's curse setting off his evil detection senses and really not a clue how to handle it. He will eventually get one, however.

Summary time: Plans are being laid and put into action in both timelines – Elrond is putting the Fellowship of the Ring together, while Calenlass decides the hobbits should at least have a fighting chance against wizards, if it comes to that, a decision that has surprising consequences when Dumbledore decides to educate Frodo on the finer points of the Voldemort war. Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin are putting Ron and Pansy's plans into action, and Elrond's intrigued by Harry's scar...

And In The Darkness Bind Them

Chapter Nine

Frodo stared at the hobbit-sized bow and arrows in his hands like he'd never seen one before.

"For me?" he said, confused. Calenlass nodded. "Yes. For all of you." He indicated the weaponry currently sitting in the hands of four very bewildered hobbits.

"But Mr. Calenlass, sir," Sam spoke up, "this is too fine for the likes of us! We're just hobbits. This is fancy Elven stuff! And what are we likely to be needing them for anyway? Wizarding folk aren't going to be bothered by the likes of this, begging your pardon, sir."

"Oh, you don't think so?" Calenlass raised an eyebrow. He'd swapped the wizarding robes for tunic, cloak and leggings in various shades of green, and the glasses that he didn't really need in the slightest had disappeared. His blond hair was braided back, leaving the ear-tips clearly visible and with it, the Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had metamorphosed into the Elven warrior he really was. Presently they were all gathered in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, Calenlass sitting cross-legged on a fallen tree trunk while the hobbits stood around looking slightly awkward.

"He's got a point, Professor," said Merry. "I've seen the way this lot use magic, including a few fights after hours when the teachers weren't looking, and they'd wipe the floor with us. No offence, like."

"All the more reason to know how to fight," said Calenlass. He nodded at the swords and archery gear he'd given them. "Sam, you're absolutely right, they're Elven-ware, forged by mighty Elven-smiths of old.. I brought them back with me when I returned from the West."

All four exchanged glances, not quite able to keep the smirks off their faces, and Pippin failed utterly, bursting out laughing.

"Elves never used these, surely? They'd look ridiculous!"

Calenlass rolled his eyes. "Pippin, my dear hobbit, you are forgetting all you know of Elves. We're immortal. The great Elven-smiths of old I refer to are alive and well in the Undying Lands this very day and have not forgotten any of their skills, although it has been long since any of them have needed to forge weapons. They forged them for you. Elven weapons, shrunk down to hobbit-size. Gifts from Elbereth."

That shut them up. Four sets of eyes stared down at the finely-crafted short-swords and exquisitely carved bows.

"I can't," Frodo whispered. "Elbereth help me, I can't possibly take these! Me?"

"Yes, you," Calenlass nodded. "Why not you? Don't feel too in awe, the smiths in question enjoyed every minute of their labour. Apparently it was highly detailed and technical work shrinking it all down and adjusting the proportions and weighting to fit a hobbit. They've not had a challenge like it in centuries. Don't feel like you don't deserve the work – truly they would be far more offended to have the fruits of their labour rejected out of hand! If you wish to repay them, take and use these weapons in your defence. For a defence you will need." Calenlass's face grew serious. "Merry was right – as you are, you are no match for wizards. This is why I give these to you. They are Elven-made and their like does not exist in Middle Earth any more, and they will protect you. Specifically, they are proof against magic."

That did get their attention. Merry and Pippin's eyes in particular lit up.

"What, really?"

"Magic, these can beat magic?" Pippin practically squealed with delight. "That's brilliant! Right, where's this Lord Voldywarts then, I can take him."

This time it was Calenlass's turn to burst out laughing. "Valar, Pippin, do not get ahead of yourself! If you are in one on one combat with a wizard or witch, these blades will draw their hexes and deflect them. They will also cut through most wands nicely. The arrows too are also proof against most hexes, including fire damage and magical deflections. However, there are limitations. Up against more than one witch or wizard, and you are going to have problems – the blades will draw magic, but the stronger the magic the more it will resist and the closer your blade will have to be to the actual hex's line of fire to deflect it. One on one, or against students, you will have few problems, but outnumbered or in a melee situation, or even against a powerful and skilled adult wizard or witch, you will be as vulnerable as you ever were. In the main, your best defence is remaining small and hidden and unnoticed – as your kind ever have done."

"He's got a point, Pip, we're quite good at that," Merry nodded. It was true too – despite the cover story that they were part-goblin assistants recruited to help out Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout, the hobbits preferred to avoid contact with the student body if they could.

"Indeed," said Calenlass, smiling. "But your next defence will be these weapons, and they will be that much more effective if you know how to use them. And that, my dear hobbits, is what I am proposing to teach you, if you are willing, that is?"

Say what you will about hobbits, as a rule most of them were neither cowards nor afraid of hard work, and even the meekest hobbit frequently has secret inner fantasies of being a brave warrior. Merry and Pippin were far from the meekest hobbits, and even Sam couldn't turn down the opportunity to learn from an Elf. And as for Frodo...

Frodo looked up, a smile curling his lips. "When do we start?" he asked.

"When do we start?" Harry asked. The Council had disbanded for the day, its main decisions having been reached. The Ring-quest having been given approval, it only remained to organise it all, and a full Council was hardly necessary for that.

"Not for a while yet," Elrond answered. He'd retired to his study and Harry had followed him in, wanting to find out how long he'd have to get ready before having to leave. He lowered the scroll in his hands, suddenly noticing how nervous Harry looked. "Young one, surely you are not thinking I am going to ask you to leave in the morning?" The look on Harry's face was all the answer Elrond needed and the Elf-lord had to fight the urge to laugh.

"Oh Harry," he sighed. "Sit down, young one. It will be a good two months before all is in readiness for you to set out. And while the journey will be a long and hard one, you will not be alone. I had in mind Nine Walkers, to match the Nine Riders. You and your friends will be foremost among them, you and Ginevra and Hermione, and probably Luna too, even if young Draco proves unwilling. As to the others, I have not asked yet, but if Aragorn truly is going to Minas Tirith, he and the man Boromir will likely have the same road as you for many miles. I am also minded to ask for Elven and Dwarven assistance too – this affects us all and so all should be represented if possible. I believe Legolas in particular would prefer not to face his father again just yet, but if he will not join, I shall see if one of my own household will go with you. And if I am not mistaken, I think another may wish to join you."

"Another?" Harry asked. "Who?"

"Me," said Gandalf, entering without knocking, probably the only person in Rivendell aside from Arwen who would ever even think of daring to enter Elrond's inner sanctum unannounced. "Strong you children may be, but you aren't fully adult or fully trained, and I think it might help if you had magical assistance. Unless you'd rather I didn't?"

Harry couldn't stop the grin breaking out. Gandalf wasn't Dumbledore, not at all, Gandalf was far sterner and more forbidding than the Hogwarts Headmaster was. But nevertheless, Harry liked and respected him – despite the sometimes irritable exterior, Gandalf's heart was in the right place and it showed. Somehow, knowing Gandalf was coming made the whole prospect of Mordor that much less terrifying.

"That'd be brilliant!" Harry grinned. "Er, if that's alright with you, Elrond?"

Elrond smiled, waving them away. "Far be it from me to get into the habit of telling wizards what to do. Go with my blessing, Mithrandir. Now, if I might have a little peace in my own study? I have various scouting missions and an expedition to Mordor to plan."

Narcissa laid down the letter from Dumbledore containing the latest news from the Red Book. So it appears the Potter boy had taken on the Ring-quest. Not unexpected, as unexpected in fact as the two Gryffindors volunteering to go with him. Narcissa could only think herself lucky that Draco had had more sense. As it was, Luna was almost certain to go along as well, and while Xenophilus professed to be thinking of it all as a big adventure and fantastic learning experience for his daughter, Narcissa could tell that underneath all that he was terrified for her. Worryingly, this was bothering her. Why should she care what happened to the man's child, after all? And yet he'd been good to her, cooking for her, bringing her news, turning a cheerful blind eye to the long blonde hair in the shower, fetching her books and not batting an eyelid if perhaps the subject matter was somewhat on the Dark side. He'd even made a point of offering to play various magical games with her in the evenings. The hospitality puzzled Narcissa, and what was even more puzzling was that somehow, it was winning her over. Damn the man for being so likeable!

"You're probably glad Draco's not going along, aren't you?" said Xenophilus, the cheeriness just narrowly failing to cover the anxiety beneath.

"I'm rather pleased he knows where his loyalties lie," said Narcissa, folding the parchment up. "Bless the boy, wanting to come back and rescue me. But that Boromir gentleman's absolutely right, I really didn't need rescuing."

"Certainly not by him anyway," Xenophilus said with a laugh... at least until he caught the icy glare on Narcissa's face. "Not that you wouldn't have made your own escape plans if you'd known the danger, of course. Obviously you're quite capable of taking care of yourself."

"Of course," said Narcissa calmly. "And so, for the most part, is Draco. I am not overly worried on his account, I think the Elves will look after him and get him home. Not sure I can say the same about your Luna though. Does she know what she's walking into?"

"She's read the Red Book, she knows what Mordor's like," said Xenophilus, getting up and walking to the kitchen sink, turning the taps on and focusing his attention on the washing-up. Narcissa recognised a displacement activity when she saw it.

"She's fifteen, Xeno," said Narcissa, softening her voice. "Are you sure she really knows the risks? We all think we're indestructible at that age, and if we don't think our actual parents will come to our rescue, we're usually not entirely cured of the belief that someone will. Xeno, has she ever truly been in danger in her entire life?"

"She's not led as charmed a life as Draco, if that's what you mean," said Xenophilus. "She's gone on expeditions with me before now – that wasn't exactly five-star luxury. And don't forget she saw her mother die when she was ten."

Narcissa remembered the obituary in the Prophet, Lucius bringing it to her personally and gently telling her the cousin she'd used to play with as a child had died, and did she need anything? She remembered scanning the page before resolutely shoving any grief to the back of her heart and tersely telling him she'd not seen Beth Marsh in years, what did she care? Not as if she was family any more, was it? Of course, it wasn't that simple, certainly not now.

"Mordor will be worse," said Narcissa. "Are you sure you want to let her walk into it alone?"

Dishes crashed into the sink as Xenophilus started scrubbing the breakfast things clean with rather more vehemence than was strictly necessary.

"I don't have a choice!" Xenophilus snapped. "Besides, she's not alone, she's with the Fellowship."

"You know as well as I do it'll break up before they get that far," said Narcissa. One wave of her wand, and the dishes were clean. Xeno slammed his hands against the sink and turned to glare at her. Getting up, Narcissa reached out and placed a hand over his, ignoring the soap suds covering it.

"If you wanted to go back and help her," she said softly, "I think we could do it, you and I. The Red Book is still at Hogwarts in their library. If Draco's blood could activate it... so could mine. We could go join them if you're worried?"

Xenophilus went very still, and looked up at her. "You... you could think it could work? What if Elbereth charmed it to only work the once?"

"She might," said Narcissa calmly. "But equally, she might not. We will not know unless we try."

"Oh!" Xenophilus put his hand to his mouth, laughed once and threw his arms around her. Narcissa was keenly aware that they were still covered in water and she was now covered in it all along her back but said nothing. It wouldn't take long to dry off, after all.

"You... you would really do that?" he asked, his voice strange. "For... for me and Luna?"

Narcissa nodded. "Of course! Not just for you, obviously, I'd be doing it for me and Draco too. But I'd do it."

"Thank you," Xenophilus whispered, clutching her to him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Narcissa smiled faintly, inwardly wondering if she'd be able to breathe again any time soon. Fortunately, he released her, still smiling, hands resting on her shoulders.

"I think," he said, "that we don't need to make any immediate plans to try it out. But we will keep reading Dumbledore's letters and if things look to be getting dangerous, we'll give it a go, yes?"

Narcissa nodded, smiling despite herself, smiling in a way she'd not done since they'd taken Lucius away. Suddenly, she didn't feel quite so helpless any more. She was, at least in part, mistress of her own destiny again... and she liked it.

Someone wishing he was master of his own destiny at that moment was one Merry Brandybuck. Adventure, they'd said. Exciting, they'd said. Possibly very important in saving the world from the forces of evil, they'd said.

Of course he and Pippin had volunteered immediately. Pansy Parkinson certainly knew how to turn on the charm when she wanted to, and Ron Weasley's offer of lending them valuable magical objects to carry the plan out would have won them over on its own. Who wouldn't want to get their hands on wizarding magic after all?

However, what he hadn't banked on was winding up spending three hours in a darkened corridor sitting under a cloak of invisibility with Pippin snoozing on his shoulder, waiting for the alleged hidden door to the Slytherin Common Room to open and a wizard called Theodore Nott to come out. Admittedly watching the named dots wandering around on the map Ron had lent him had been quite entertaining at first, but even that had lost its charm after a while.

"What time is it, Merry?" Pippin murmured. Merry glanced down at the watch Pansy had given him – it was a bit battered and the strap was wearing out, but it was still the best watch Merry had ever owned. Come to think of it, it was the only watch he'd ever owned, but at least Merry could actually tell the time using it, which was more than some hobbits could have done.

"Quarter past ten, Pip. Which is twenty minutes since you last asked and does mean we've been here for three hours."

"Bloody hell," Pippin muttered. He'd heard Ron use it and adopted the expression for his own. "Merry, are you sure this Nott kid's really as bad as Pansy makes out? If this is some prank on us to see how long she can get the hobbits to sit out here for..."

"Ron wouldn't have lent us these if there wasn't a good reason," said Merry, fingering the parchment, charmed by Pansy to glow in the dark so you could read it. "You heard him, they're his mate Harry's family heirlooms from his dad. He's not going to give those out unless it's important."

"Merry, my shoulder hurts, my back's stiff and I can't feel my arse any more. You're not telling me anyone would have noticed if we'd gone back to our rooms and followed the map from there?"

"We would not have followed the map, we'd have eaten chocolate and sat around playing games all night. And I'm not playing you at that Monopoly game again, you're a terrible loser and you're not much better when you win."

"Ah, you're just annoyed still cause I beat you- mmph!" Merry had placed a hand over Pippin's mouth. Pippin tried to protest... until the door to the Slytherin Common Room opened, green-tinged light bathing the corridor as two teenage boys stepped out. Pippin fell silent immediately, very aware that both boys were built like trolls and capable of smashing him into the ground even without magic. He fingered the thin fabric of the cloak draped over them both. Suddenly it didn't feel like such a strong defence any more. Still, it seemed to work – both boys walked past them without even noticing. As soon as they'd gone, Pippin let out a sigh of relief he'd not realised he'd been holding in.

"Who were they?" he whispered.

"Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle," Merry whispered back. "Pansy reckons they're her Draco's old friends, but now they're hanging with Nott."

"Should we follow them, do you reckon?"

Merry shook his head. "Only on the map. It'll show us where they go and who they meet. From what Pansy says, they're not really bright enough to be doing anything too complicated."

Merry had a point there, Pippin conceded, and besides, they could always try tracking them another evening. And so they waited. Ten minutes later, they were rewarded by a third boy stepping out of the common room. This one, while not as stockily built as the other two, radiated an air of menace made all the more sinister by the sense of calm competence underlying it. It only took a glance at the map to confirm this was the boy they were seeking – Theodore Nott.

Without a word, both hobbits waited until he'd gone round the corner before getting to their feet as quietly as they could manage and following after him.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Frodo asked nervously. The summons had been unexpected, if polite, and despite being picked up by Calenlass, who'd assured him it was nothing to be concerned about, Frodo was still anxious. Wizards were wizards after all, and Dumbledore was not Gandalf, despite the superficial similarities. He couldn't imagine he'd done anything horribly wrong personally, but you could never tell. Unless Merry or Pippin had done something... but they'd have confessed to him at least, surely?

Seeing a stone goblin-esque creature spring to life to let him past was also not something you saw every day, and the fact that the portraits on the wall were all staring at him and whispering and he'd definitely caught the words hobbit and Baggins in there, and Frodo was one nervous hobbit.

"Ah yes, Frodo my lad, come in, come in, take a seat." Dumbledore waved his wand and a chair pulled in to sit in front of the old wizard's desk, shrinking to hobbit-size as it did so. "I've taken the liberty of sending for tea and cakes, please feel free to help yourself."

The tray was sitting on the Headmaster's desk, but as soon as Frodo had sat down, the chair's legs automatically increased in height until Frodo found himself sitting at desk-height.

"Th-thank you, sir," he managed to get out. The teapot then rose up by itself and poured Frodo a cup of tea.

"Milk? Sugar?" Dumbledore asked, as if nothing untoward had happened, and Frodo realised with a shock that for him, it probably hadn't. For wizards, this sort of thing happened all the time. It probably wasn't even strong magic.

"Please could I do my own, sir?" said Frodo, his voice small and timid. He didn't think he could face the milk jug and sugar tongs moving by themselves as well. Dumbledore smiled.

"Of course you can, young Frodo. I keep forgetting this must all seem very strange and new to you."

"Well, it's not been so bad so far, I mean, I did know a wizard back home," said Frodo, adding milk and about five lumps of sugar, which he judged enough to keep a hobbit from fading away entirely but not being too greedy. Tea and indeed sugar had been novelties for the hobbits, but not unwelcome ones, and they had swiftly become an essential part of the hobbit diet, making up entirely for the lack of anything resembling halfway decent pipe-weed. "We've all just about got the hang of the staircases, even Sam, and the portraits are quite nice once you've got over the shock of one talking to you. The students mostly ignore us, and we're quite happy with that. Apart from Ron and Pansy, they're being surprisingly helpful." Particularly in the matter of procuring wizarding sweets and large amounts of Butterbeer, but Frodo saw no reason to mention that.

"I see. And your work assisting the various staff members we've assigned you to, that's going well too?"

Frodo nodded. "Oh yes, sir, very well indeed." He spent his days helping out Madam Pomfrey, who'd taken a shine to him and had taken to teaching him how to prepare the various herbs and potions she needed. Much of it required magic, of course, but you didn't need to be a wizard to know how to chop herbs or slice dead animals up or stir a cauldron and make sure it didn't boil over. It wasn't much different from cooking, and any fool hobbit knew how to cook. Similarly, Sam was helping Professor Sprout out with her less dangerous plants, and once you'd learnt the safety precautions and got used to plants moving on their own, gardening was gardening, as Sam liked to say. Merry and Pippin were probably having the most interesting time of it helping Hagrid out, but so far neither of them had come home with any serious injuries. Merry liked to joke that they were both most at risk from getting stiff necks from looking up to Hagrid all the time.

"And your lessons with Professor Calenlass, they are going well too?"

That did get Frodo's attention. "How did you know... oh. Calenlass told you, of course."

Dumbledore nodded. "I am Headmaster of this school and have been for many years. I assure you, very little goes on in these walls and the grounds that I do not know about."

Frodo fervently hoped that that did not extend to the secret ale-brewing experiment Merry and Pippin had set up behind Hagrid's cottage, nor to Sam's secret mushroom forays in the Forbidden Forest. Mercifully, Dumbledore made no mention of either.

"Not even Calenlass professes to know why you were brought here. Indeed, it is possible that there was no reason, other than to counter-balance the witches and wizards that needed to be sent back to Middle Earth. However, I believe it as likely as not that the four of you are here for a reason, and so I was more than happy to allow Professor Calenlass to train you in the use of arms. For these are dangerous times, Frodo, and I wouldn't want harm to come to any of you if it can be avoided."

"It can't be more dangerous than Middle Earth," said Frodo, shuddering at the memory of the Black Riders... and Old Man Willow... and the Barrow-wights... and all that within a day of the Shire.

"Indeed not, and the Ring burden is no longer yours to carry," said Dumbledore. "I imagine you must be relieved."

Frodo hesitated, before nodding. Sometimes he still dreamed of the Ring and the habit of reaching for it to see if it was still around his neck wasn't entirely gone. It would have been wrong to say he missed it exactly, but all the same, it had left its mark.

"Yes, I imagine escaping your own war must be profoundly relieving," said Dumbledore. "Alas that you have walked straight into ours. Tell me, what have you heard so far about the goings-on?"

"Not an awful lot," said Frodo. "No one really wants to talk about it. But I do know there's this dark wizard called Voldemort, but no one wants to say his name – Calenlass and you are the only ones who ever do. And his followers are called Death Eaters, and they're trying to take over the wizarding world. They don't like Muggles or witches and wizards related to them or who want to protect the Muggles from magic. And they're quite prepared to kill anyone who gets in their way."

"An admirable summary," said Dumbledore. "You have picked up much in the few weeks you've been here. However, I feel that in order to know quite what you've been let in for, it's only fair that you should know the whole story. Far more than I was ever able to tell poor Harry. Let me begin at the beginning..."

And so Dumbledore proceeded to explain the whole story, starting with Voldemort's rise to power and defeat by the infant Harry, Harry's Hogwarts years and Voldemort's second coming.

Frodo listened in mixed fascination and horror. "And that's what you're up against," he said softly. "I don't envy you, he sounds terrifying."

"He is certainly dangerous," Dumbledore agreed. "But I believe that it is our choice whether to fear him or not, and choosing to fear him gives him a power he does not deserve. However, I have not told you everything yet, my dear hobbit. Why, I've barely got to the interesting part! Allow me to show you my Pensieve..."

He proceeded to do just that, and Frodo got to experience powerful magic first hand, witnessing Dumbledore's early encounters with the young Tom Riddle, and the Gaunt family he'd descended from. He also got to see another memory of Riddle asking the then Potions Master Slughorn about something called Horcruxes.

"We're lucky to get this memory intact, the first version Slughorn had clearly tampered with to show himself in a better light. We have Calenlass to thank for obtaining an intact version. Apparently it is very difficult for humans to lie to the Eldar, especially when one has shared an entire bottle of Firewhisky with you and has been singing of the Undying Lands all evening."

Frodo smiled at that – it was the only thing all evening that had been worth smiling at. As for the rest...

"He's really killed seven people?" Frodo asked.

"Alas, my boy, he's likely killed many more than that," Dumbledore sighed. "But yes, he's murdered seven people for no other reason than to ensure his own immortality and destroyed his own soul in the process."

"And he can't be killed, can't be stopped, until we find all these Horcuxes and destroy them?" Frodo felt appalled at the very thought. "Do we know how? And what are they all?"

"Well, the good news is that one is already destroyed – it was the old diary that Harry destroyed in his second year here. And I recovered another this summer." Dumbledore reached into his pocket and placed something on the table. Frodo peered over and recoiled to see sitting before him a small golden ring.

Despite the fact it had a stone and the One Ring never had, Frodo couldn't help but back away. Dumbledore nodded, his eyes sad.

"Yes, Frodo, I'm afraid another ring is involved. I would have destroyed it this summer, but Calenlass advised me not to, the attempt would likely kill me. Horcruxes are not an easy thing to destroy, no indeed." Dumbledore stared intently at Frodo. "But not impossible."

Frodo stared at the ring, remembering the other one he'd carried and feeling twin waves of hatred and loss well up in him. He could feel the same sense of evil rising from this one too. Shaking, he picked it up and stared at it.

"Apart from being a Horcrux, does it have any other powers?" Frodo asked. "Was it magical before Voldemort took it?"

"I do not know for sure," said Dumbledore. "There is a legend the stone in it is the mythical Resurrection Stone that lets you speak with the dead... but I have not tried it myself. With a sliver of Voldemort's soul in it, I think attempting necromancy with that ring would be most unwise."

"I've no intention of doing anything of the sort," said Frodo, feeling a wave of loathing for all things ring-shaped. He would destroy it himself if he could... and then he remembered the Elven sword at his belt, worn always just in case. A gift from Elbereth, come from the Undying Lands... proof against wizarding magic. He leapt off the high stool and placed the ring on the floor in the centre of the office.

"Professor," said Frodo calmly, drawing his sword, "if you could put up a powerful Shielding Spell of some sort around me and the ring, I'd be very grateful."

Dumbledore smiled and lifted his wand, a blue sphere appearing around ring and hobbit. Calenlass had not been wrong about this species' toughness and bravery, it seemed. Frodo knelt by the ring, staring at it, before raising the Elven blade and bringing it down in one swift motion. Metal struck metal, and an explosion of dazzling light sent Frodo flying until he collided with the shield and sank to the floor, dazed but mercifully still alive. The ring lay in two pieces on the floor, cloven neatly in two, the stone broken. Green smoke rose up from it, twisting briefly into what looked like a face screaming, before fading away. Scarcely able to believe what he'd just seen, Dumbledore lifted the shield spell and raced to Frodo's side.

"Frodo, my lad, are you alright?"

"I think so," Frodo whispered. "Did I manage it?" He dragged himself to a sitting position with Dumbledore's help.

"You did," said Dumbledore, eyes crinkling as he smiled. "That was well done, Frodo! I was not expecting that. You hobbits are indeed remarkable creatures."

"Thank Calenlass and Elbereth, they had the sword made for me," said Frodo, climbing to his feet. He kicked at the lifeless remains of the Horcrux ring. "I think I have had quite enough of evil magic rings for one lifetime."

"I cannot fault you for that, Frodo," Dumbledore laughed. "Here is hoping that we are able to dispose of the others as easily."

Frodo sheathed the Elven sword, silently thanking it for a job well done. "Well, if you need me to help, let me know, I'll happily do another one. Let Sam, Merry and Pip know too, they'd be a bit upset if they didn't get a go."

"I shall be sure to keep that in mind," Dumbledore promised, leading Frodo by the hand to the fireplace, where two armchairs and a small table seemed to have appeared as if by... well, it probably was magic, to be honest, Frodo wondered why he was even surprised by this stage. Climbing into one of them, he was only too pleased to be rewarded by hot cocoa, cakes and a small sip of Firewhisky to steady his nerves. He could get used to this whole hero business.

"Harry, may I have a word?" Elrond asked, voice mild enough... but Harry knew the Elf-lord well enough by now to know that conversation-openers like that were always more than they seemed.

"Of course," said Harry, getting to his feet and nodding to Ginny as he left the card game. Middle-Earth didn't have playing cards, not until Draco had improvised and designed a deck. It was actually surprisingly well done, Harry hadn't known Draco could draw that well... but its worth as an artistic piece was being undermined by the fact that almost as soon as the ink was dry, Draco had set about teaching Elladan and Elrohir how to play poker. Word had soon spread, and now Arwen, Tathariel, Legolas, Gimli, Luna, Ginny and Boromir had joined with them and formed a regular little gaming set. So far, the Elves were dominating the games overall, but no one was getting it all their own way, and Luna in particular appeared to be doing quite well. Harry occasionally played with them, but usually it was more fun just to watch.

"Is everything alright, Lord Elrond?" Harry asked, following him away from the after-dinner gathering. "We haven't done anything wrong, have we? It's not the cards, is it? Because that was all Draco's work, that..."

"It is not about the cards, Harry," said Elrond with a smile. "After all, we must have something to occupy our days with, must we not? No, it's about that scar of yours." He reached his study door and held it open, motioning for Harry to go in.

Harry took a seat in a chair by the fire, surprised at the question. He wasn't used to people asking about it – it wasn't as if the entire wizarding world didn't know how he came by it, after all.

"What about my scar?" he asked, as Elrond sat across from him.

"I was wondering if you could tell me more about how you came by it," said Elrond. So Harry told him everything he knew about that fateful Halloween when Voldemort had killed his parents and tried to kill him too. Elrond listened with interest, asking particular questions about the Killing Curse, and the order in which events had occurred that night. Harry did his best to answer, but some of the questions were a bit esoteric for him.

"If I can ask, Lord Elrond, why do you want to know all this? This can't have anything to do with your war, can it?"

Elrond shook his head, looking only slightly embarrassed. "No, no, it does not, Harry, you are quite right. But Gandalf and I both sensed something about that scar when we first saw it, something Dark and not quite right. We thought it might be the Ring at first, but when you took the Ring off at the Council, we could still sense it in you, and I think it has something to do with your scar. It was made with Dark magic, one of the darkest spells your world knows, and that spell should have killed you, but did not. Your life was saved by your mother's sacrifice, you say, but is it possible the failed spell lives on in you – that your scar contains a fragment of Dark magic still?"

Harry went very still. The thought had never occurred to him before, but it made perfect sense. Part of Voldemort's magic lodged in his forehead... the thought made him queasy.

"It would explain a lot," said Harry quietly, remembering all the visions of Voldemort and scar pain he'd had, the ability to speak Parseltongue which only ran in Voldemort's family. He found himself explaining it all to Elrond, telling him everything. Elrond listened throughout, his face becoming grim.

"That does sound awfully like a part of him, or his magic at least, is trapped in your scar," said Elrond. "Harry, by your leave, if you are willing... I can remove it?"

"Could you?" Harry asked, hope flooding him. Elrond nodded.

"Certainly, if I can remove a piece of Morgul-blade from Draco, I can remove the sorcery from your scar, if you will let me."

"I'd like that," said Harry. "When is good for you?"

"Lean forward," was all Elrond said. Harry did so and felt Elrond's ring touch his scar. As it did so, his scar exploded in pain. Harry heard himself screaming, his scar feeling like it was on fire. It seemed to go on forever, and then the ring was dragged away. Harry heard a popping sound and felt something that felt almost solid being wrenched from his skull... and then he was himself again, sitting in Elrond's chair, his forehead throbbing. Harry reached up and ran his fingers across his skull, feeling for the familiar outlines of the scar... and felt nothing. His skin was as smooth as if he'd never been cursed. He looked up to see Elrond shaking his hand. Smoke was rising from Elrond's ring, and the Elf looked pale.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. Elrond nodded.

"Are you?"

"I think so," said Harry. "How do I look?"

"Your forehead looks red and sore, but not seriously so. I believe that will have subsided by morning though." Elrond looked exhausted but had managed to muster enough energy for a smile. "We were not mistaken about the Dark magic though – whatever was in there was weak but no less malignant for all that, and it put up a fight. But it is gone, have no fear of that, it went up in green smoke." He patted his ring. "Whatever it was, it met a greater power today."

"Your ring," Harry stared at it, looking at it properly for the first time, and he realised it was no ordinary ring. "You're a Ring-bearer too – that's one of the Three!"

Elrond nodded. "It is Vilya, the strongest of the Three, a ring of Light and Preservation. It will drive out Darkness wherever it meets it, although its power is not absolute. Nevertheless it healed Draco, and now it has healed you."

"Could it destroy the One Ring as well?" Harry asked hopefully, although in his heart he knew what the answer must be. Indeed, Elrond had started shaking his head as soon as Harry asked the question.

"No, Harry. One Ring to Rule them all, remember. The One Ring can command the others – if I tried using Vilya to destroy it, the One would fight back and probably destroy me in the process. Believe me, if I had the power, I would have used it by now. As it is, Vilya is best put to use keeping Rivendell safe while it can."

Harry lowered his eyes. He'd expected no other answer, but the disappointment was still fairly crushing. Elrond saw this and got to his feet, holding out his hand.

"Come, Harry, it is late and that will have wearied you. You should go to bed, get some rest. The world will look brighter in the morning, and I shall have Silanen send some miruvor as a little nightcap for you in the meantime."

Harry decided that while he would prefer being told they'd found a way to destroy the One, and that he didn't have to go to Mordor any more, that would certainly do for now. Taking Elrond's hand, he allowed himself to be guided from the room.

Merry and Pippin trailed Nott through the school, only just managing to keep from being observed as they tracked him along corridors, always travelling upstairs, until they finally reached the seventh floor.

"How much further?" Pippin muttered. Merry nudged him in the side.

"Shh, Pip, this thing makes us invisible, not inaudible!"

"Which means?"

"Means he could still hear us!" Sure enough, Nott had stopped at the end of the corridor, turned around and was watching with a frown, his wand tip glowing. Shrugging, he turned around and continued on his way, turning a corner. The hobbits hurried after him, skidding to a halt as a look on the Marauder's Map told them Nott was not alone. They were about to turn into a long corridor, and Nott was standing at the near end, talking to Gregory Goyle, while a dot labelled Vincent Crabbe was at the other end. Presumably both were keeping guard. The hobbits inched closer, Merry guiding Pippin while Pippin kept an eye on the Map. Both hobbits gasped at the same time, but for entirely different reasons. Merry had glanced around the corner, staring at where the dot marked Gregory Goyle was still standing... and seen, not a troll-like male sixth year, but a small blonde girl who was barely taller than he was. Whereas Pippin had looked at the Map, and seen the dot marked Theodore Nott walk along the corridor, stop... and then disappear.

"Where'd he go?"

"That's not Gregory Goyle, surely!"

'Goyle' glanced up at this, scowling. Both hobbits immediately fell silent, falling back against a wall as 'she' walked forward and looked round the corner, staring into the darkness like it would give up its secrets for the asking. However, 'she' saw nothing and returned to her guard post. Deciding they'd risked enough for now, both hobbits tiptoed away.

Dumbledore closed the Red Book, hardly able to believe what he'd just read. Calenlass was sitting across the office from him, watching intently, while Snape was sitting next to him, head in his hands.

"Two Horcruxes gone in one night, and one of those was the one we believed Harry would have to die to destroy," Dumbledore whispered. "I can scarce believe it."

"It is the will of the Valar," said Calenlass, eyes shining. "Did I not tell you help would be given in return for borrowing the children?"

"He does not have to die," Snape whispered, still staring at the floor. Tears could clearly be seen glittering on his cheeks, but neither wizard nor Elf chose to mention the fact. Both knew that Snape would not appreciate it. "Lily's boy does not have to die, thank God." He choked on the last word and fell silent.

"It is something to be thankful for indeed," said Dumbledore. "His life is his own again, to do with as he pleases. I just hope he survives the Ring-quest."

"He has survived everything else life has thrown at him," said Snape, only a hint of bitterness in his voice for once. "Why not Mordor? The hobbit survived after all, first time around."

"It is the will of the Valar," Calenlass repeated. "It is Elbereth's divine plan – she will protect him and see him home safely, do not doubt it."

"Elbereth's divine plan," Snape laughed. "Oh good lord, to get religion and have faith in the gods at my age, you are asking too much, my friend."

"Nevertheless, it is true," said Calenlass gently. "There is nothing else you can do, Severus. Whatever Harry's fate may be, it is no longer yours to interfere with. Severus, he is out of your hands."

"Yes, he is," said Snape quietly, the realisation slowly dawning on him. "I no longer have to keep him alive while simultaneously feeling like I'm leading him like a lamb to the slaughter. I no longer have to do anything for him. His destiny is no longer in my hands, I no longer have him as my burden to bear. And I no longer have to think about what Lily would want me to do, as there is nothing I can do for her. Her son is gone, and so is she, and I can finally, finally, move on!" He sat up straight before falling back into his chair, covering his face while tears fell down his cheeks in absolute silence.

"Twenty years, and I am finally free of her ghost," Snape whispered. Dumbledore said nothing, and Calenlass squeezed Snape's shoulder.

"Yes you are," he said. "What will you do with your freedom?"

"Nothing yet, I've a war to fight," said Snape, drying his eyes and reaching for another tumbler of Firewhisky. "But when that's over... I will finally have a life worth living for."

A/N: Two Horcuxes in one chapter, go me! Appreciate it may seem a little fast-paced, but the bulk of the action is in Middle Earth, so I need to start getting the Horcruxes out of the way!