erhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.
James Baldwin

Chapter 1

Harry woke up lying on moss, surrounded by ferns and one small man who blinked wide, blue eyes at him.

Hermione's ritual had worked. Well, at least in so far that it had transported Harry to somewhere else from where he'd performed the ritual. If it was a whole new world remained to be seen.

The small man started talking excitedly.

"I'm sorry, I do not speak your language," Harry said, suddenly overcome with anxiety. It had never occurred to him that moving to a whole new world meant he'd have to learn a whole new language. Yet in hindsight, it seemed rather obvious that English was not the common tongue in the multiverse. But even Hermione hadn't mentioned it when she's taught him the ritual. Either she had forgotten it as well, or more likely, she'd assumed Harry would realize this.

The small man nodded in understanding and straightened himself up, pounding on his own chest. "Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins."

Harry got the meaning of that well enough. "Harry. Harry Potter." He tapped himself on the chest a few times.

"Harry Potter," Bilbo Baggins repeated and then leaned over to vigorously shake Harry's hand. He seemed like a very good-natured fellow, for which Harry was more than grateful. The ritual hadn't been able to necessarily deposit you somewhere safe, only somewhere in a new world. But so far Harry's surroundings and Harry's companion seemed safe enough.

Slowly, Harry managed to get to his feet. He was still wearing all his clothing and his backpack, which was another huge bonus. It meant that he still had all his earthly belongings he'd wanted to take with him. This included lots of gold and silver, plus a tent stocked with lots of food. Hermione had warned him to take enough provisions so he could survive on his own for up to a year if need be and Harry had listened to her.

Harry had to assume everything was still in place because he had a companion now who gently tugged on the sleeve of Harry's brown leather jacket, urging him to come along. Harry wasn't about to use magic in front of someone until he had a good understanding of how that individual felt about magic in the first place.

Bilbo was also a chatty fellow and he kept repeating words as he pointed at things. They made their way out of the small cops of trees where Harry had landed to a dirt road that seemed to lead to a settlement in the distance. The sun was setting and it was hard to make out how large exactly the cluster of small buildings he could see in the distance truly was.

Bilbo led the way with confident steps and Harry trudged along, slightly dazed that the ritual had actually worked. Bilbo was no more than three feet tall, but he was most certainly not a child. He carried a large pack on his back and a sturdy walking stick in his hand and he clearly had places to be. He also didn't wear shoes but instead walked on large feet covered in hair.

Harry started suspecting Bilbo might not be human, but he had no idea what he actually was. He'd never seen a being like Bilbo before. Was he immortal? Was that why the ritual had dropped Harry off near him?

That was the only direction Harry had given while he'd performed the ritual. That he be transported to a world where there were immortal people Harry could live with.

The settlement was surrounded by a thick, stone wall and Bilbo pounded on the wooden gate. A small hatch opened, revealing a regular size human. Bilbo talked to him for a moment and the man opened the gate readily enough.

What Harry saw filled him with dread.

He'd landed in the middle ages. He'd actually fucking landed in a place where indoor plumbing hadn't been invented yet. The streets of the small town were full of mud, the people were grimy, their clothes looking like they hadn't been washed in a few weeks and the whole place reeked of manure. Pigs lived in people's backyards while chickens pecked around the muddy streets. Horses were everywhere, and so was their poop.

Harry swallowed and got the impression he'd just made a huge mistake, coming here. He'd have been much better off back home, even if he had to watch every person he'd ever loved die of old age while he stayed forever young.

Bilbo wasn't perturbed by the mud and the shit and walked happily along on his bare feet towards a place that looked like an inn. Harry thanked his lucky stars he'd found Bilbo because without him Harry would have been lost. Bilbo entered the dark space filled with smoke and smelly people first and Harry followed him, trying not to grimace too much. Bilbo clearly ordered them food and accommodations from the innkeeper, and Harry quickly pulled his small money pouch from his pocket when Bilbo got ready to hand the innkeeper some coins.

"Please, let me," Harry insisted, pulling out a handful of silver sickles, feeling that was the least he could do. He had no idea how much anything cost so he quickly placed the silver on the counter. He had plenty of gold if that wasn't enough. The innkeeper's eyes widened above his bushy beard. Bilbo quickly placed his hand on Harry's arm when Harry wanted to fish out more coins from his pouch and gave the innkeeper some additional instructions but what they were, Harry had no idea.

Okay, apparently the silver was enough for whatever they needed. Bilbo grabbed hold of Harry's sleeve again and pulled him along, bossy little fellow that he was. They ended up sitting at a table near a blazing fire and a server brought them pints of watery ale and bowls of hearty stew. Harry saw what he was sure were carrots and potatoes and what were most assuredly chunks of mystery meat. Harry decided not to question their origins too much and instead tucked into the stew. It was a little bland but perfectly edible and Harry had been hungry too often in his early life that he'd ever turn down a good meal.

Bilbo pulled out an old-fashioned pipe, stuffed it with some dried leaves and lit it with the candle on their table right after they finished their stew. Then he started speaking again, puffing on his pipe, and it dawned on Harry that he was saying specific words of specific items. He'd pick up the bowl, and say a word. The spoon, say a different word.

Fucking hell, Bilbo was teaching him the local language. Harry burst out in delighted laughter once he realized that. Bilbo in turn rolled his eyes and started over. Bowl, a word.

Harry dutifully repeated the word, strange pronunciation and all. This time Bilbo gave Harry an expectant look and even gestured at Harry with the bowl. It took a few moments before he realized what Bilbo wanted.

Harry pointed at the bowl and said, "Bowl."

"Ball," Bilbo tried.

Harry shook his head and talked a little slower. "Bowl."

"Bawl," Bilbo said with a satisfied grin.

"Close enough." Next was the spoon and then the candleholder and candle on their table and every other item in close range. Harry repeated what Bilbo said, and Bilbo in turn repeated what Harry said, utterly delighted by the idea of learning a new language.

After an hour of this game, and two more pints of watery ale, a server came to fetch them to take them to their rooms. Bilbo apparently got a room sized for people like him, and Harry got a room made for human beings. There was a chamber pot sitting in the corner and Harry gratefully made use of it since his bladder was close to bursting. He hadn't want to mime pissing in the middle of the inn to figure out where the toilets were. Though Harry doubted they actually had toilets. Probably just holes in the ground right next to the stinky pigs.

As Harry crawled in the rickety bed with its lumpy mattress he heaved a deep sigh. So far the experience was interesting but also slightly worrying. If this was what the whole world looked like Harry was in for a miserable existence. Of course he had magic and could create a perfectly comfortable house for himself but how was he ever to explain that to the muggles around him.

Hopefully Harry could tag along with Bilbo to wherever it was he was going. It couldn't be much worse than this shithole.

Harry slept restlessly, waking up a few times during the night. He kept seeing the faces of his friends. Sometimes as young Hogwarts students and sometimes as the old people they were before they passed away, with their white hair and wrinkled faces.

Harry's face remained the same since the day he'd become Master of Death. The only change was that he no longer wore glasses since he'd gotten his eyes fixed with an expensive potion during Auror training.

The server from before, a woman in her thirties with a full bosom wearing a long, thick dress, brought Harry a bowl of warm water the next morning with a few cloths to wash with. Harry used them, even though he could easily clean himself with his wand. But he didn't want to seem like a dirty person who couldn't be bothered to wash up in the morning, so he used the muggle way instead. He did give his clothing a bit of a onceover with his wand to get rid of the worst of the dirt and smells.

Bilbo was waiting for him in the main room of the inn and waved him over with a huge grin. Harry's smile was equally as enthusiastic since he was truly relieved Bilbo still wanted Harry to tag along. Breakfast was chunks of dark bread with bowls of soup, which Harry suspected was just the stew from last night with more water added to it. Whatever it was, it was filling and that's what mattered.

Bilbo immediately started grilling Harry on all the words they'd exchanged the previous evening and Harry was pleased to realize he remembered almost all of them. Only shoes and window tripped him up. Bilbo, clever little fellow that he was, remembered every single English word. Since the room was slightly better lit than it had been the previous evening, Harry could make out the other patrons a bit better. Most of them seemed to be humans in various grades of dirtiness. But there were also a few others of Bilbo's kind, with their short statures and large, bare feet. Harry only now noticed a third kind of people. In the corner sat two stocky individuals with long hair and large beards. They were shorter than the average human but not quite as small as Bilbo's kind.

If Harry had to call them anything, he would call them dwarves. Bilbo also noticed the two maybe dwarves and gave them rather forlorn looks.

The innkeeper himself came to fetch them for some reason, and Bilbo immediately picked up his heavy pack and gestured at Harry to come along. Harry swung his own backpack over his shoulder and followed them out of the inn. The shithole town didn't look any better in daylight than it did in darkness. Everything was still shitty and grimy and muddy.

In front of the inn stood a boy no older than thirteen holding onto the reigns of a small, white pony and a bigger, brown horse.

Bilbo gestured to them, chattering a mile a minute, and it took a few moments before Harry realized what was happening. Apparently Harry's silver had bought them much more than a meal and a room for the night. It had bought them transportation.

"Okay, that works," Harry said with confidence he didn't feel. He'd never ridden a horse in his life. But he had ridden Thestrals and Hippogriffs so honestly, how difficult could it be.

Harry managed to haul himself up onto the horse, which he wasn't even sure was a boy or a girl. He'd forgotten to look and while seated on top of it Harry couldn't get a good look what the animal kept between its legs. The horse was the patient sort, which was a good thing, because it took Harry a moment to seat himself as he should, feeling around with his feet for the stirrups. Finally Harry picked up the reigns and pulled. The horse walked backwards.

"No," Harry said quickly, and pulled harder on the reigns. The horse walked backwards faster. "No, go the other way. Forwards! Go on, giddy up!"

Bilbo was leaning forwards over his pony, completely overcome with helpless laughter while he watched Harry struggle with his horse. After a few long, hilarious moments, Bilbo caught his breath and demonstrated to Harry how to hold onto the reigns. Key seemed to be to not pull on them, but simply use them to steer the horse left or right. One got the horse to walk by gently prodding it with your heels.

Eventually, Harry mastered the art of steering the horse well enough that they were able to walk out of the shithole and back into nature where there at least was no constant smell of poop. Sitting on the horse while it did the walking for you wasn't such a bad deal, Harry decided. Bilbo and his small pony took the lead, naturally and Harry's horse seemed content enough to walk after them at a steady pace. Only now did Harry notice that Bilbo's pony had several burlap sacks strapped to its back behind the rider. Looking over his shoulder, Harry noticed that his horse had the same. Was it horse food? Or provisions for them? How far was Bilbo planning to travel that they needed sacks of stuff. One of the sacks seemed suspiciously lumpy and Harry wondered if it held potatoes or turnips. Or both.

They rode for a while in silence before Bilbo picked up his word game again. Harry dutifully played along because he realized all too well that to live properly in this world he needed to learn the language. And Bilbo truly was a generous person to take him along and spend all his time teaching him his native tongue.

Around midday they halted for an hour so the horses could graze and they could have something to eat. Bilbo pulled down one of the burlap sacks and fished out some chunks of bread with some hard cheese and dried sausage on the side. It was simple but delicious food and Harry ate his fair share while they sat in the shadow of a large oak tree on the side of the road. Judging by the trees around them it was late spring or perhaps early summer. The temperature was mild but not hot by any means.

"Thank you," Harry said after they'd rested for an hour, Bilbo puffing away on his pipe for most of that time. Harry placed his right hand over his heart and made a little bow towards Bilbo. "Thank you," he said again in utter sincerity.

Bilbo smiled, nodded and patted Harry on the arm before going to fetch his pony.

Harry's horse was a girl as it turned out. Harry took a good look before he mounted her again. He assumed she had a name but he wasn't sure how to ask for it. "Bilbo," Harry said, causing Bilbo to look at him over his shoulder as he got ready to mount his pony. Harry pointed at his own chest. "Harry." Then he pointed at Bilbo. "Bilbo." Finally he pointed at his horse and raised his shoulders in ignorance.

"Zilib," Bilbo said with a smile. He pointed at his own pony. "Luthran."

"Thanks." Harry patted his horse's neck. "Hello, Zilib, nice to meet you."

Bilbo shook his head and hauled himself into the saddle. They continued their journey east at a steady pace. Bilbo didn't seem to be in any particular hurry. He seemed happy enough to enjoy the scenery and the lovely weather and Harry's company as their horses walked until Harry's arse hurt and his stomach rumbled.

The horses were given the chance to graze again on the stretch of long grass beside the road. Bilbo collected some firewood and with a bit of birch bark tinder he kept on his person he got a fire going using a piece of metal and a small knife. Harry watched him in admiration. He could light a fire with magic all day long but without magic he had no idea where to even get started. Harry vowed to himself to very closely observe Bilbo's actions from now on because he was sure they would teach him a lot of useful things to know in this new world.

They ate more bread and cheese and sausage while they sat around the fire. Bilbo started his word game back up, now using a stick to draw simple images in a stretch of dirt beside the campfire. Harry got in on it and got his own stick so he could draw images, too. It was apparent that the world Bilbo lived in had no modern amenities because whenever Harry drew something technological Bilbo drew a blank. He had no idea what a telephone was or a car or even a bicycle, though loved learning their English names anyway.

They were both exhausted from the day's travel and eventually curled up beside the fire. Harry was tempted to pull his tent out of his backpack but he couldn't explain that kind of magic to Bilbo and he didn't want to scare the man off. He'd still be lost without Bilbo.

A few hours later Harry woke up from the press of cold steel against his neck. Harry was wide awake at once, years of working as an Auror keeping his skills honed. There were three adult men in their camp. One had a sword held against Bilbo's neck. The small fellow looked terrified, his eyes wide in the dark. The third man had collected their horses and held onto their reigns.

Harry pretended to be sleep drunk while he stumbled to his feet, as the man with the sword at his neck demanded of him. Just as Harry made it to his feet, he let himself fall backwards, away from the sword. At the same time he flicked his wand out of the holster on his arm and cast a stunner at the man before him. Within seconds he cast stunners at the other two men as well, the red magic briefly lighting up the darkness around them. The three men lay motionless on the ground.

Bilbo stood still for a few seconds before he started applauding while he rushed towards Harry. It became apparent that this was not the first time Bilbo had encountered magic as he seemed to compare Harry's actions to other things he'd witnessed, though the details were lost on Harry.

Now that the magical cat was out of the magical bag, Harry decided to use some magic around Bilbo. He tied up all three men with a few spells, and while he did so he realized he'd seem them before in the inn they'd just stayed at. It seemed that Harry throwing around enough silver to buy not only accommodations but also a horse and a pony had been noticed by the wrong people and they'd been followed. And Harry had been so distracted by the horse riding and the amazing scenery and Bilbo's word games that he hadn't even realized. He was getting complacent in his old age.

From now on Harry vowed to at the very least use wards around their camps. And he was going to show Bilbo the tent whether he liked it or not. Harry was getting too old to sleep on the ground because not just his arse was sore from riding all day, his back wasn't happy with laying on hard dirt for hours on end either.

The tied up men weren't going anywhere and while Bilbo got their horses sorted, Harry pulled out the tent. He set it up with a few flicks of his wand and then he held open the flap for Bilbo, who peered inside curiously. Next the small man let out a very loud exclamation in sheer shock and rushed inside the tent.

Harry had charmed it himself in the years since Hermione had found him the ritual and he'd known he'd leave the wizarding world someday. It wasn't quite the palace it could be. It was still a tent. But it was a very large tent on the inside. To the left were two separate compartments which housed a toilet, and a fully functioning bathroom with sink and bathtub. On the right were two compartments which held two bedrooms, one held Harry's large bed, and the other one held two single beds for any guests he might have. In the middle of this all stood he living area, complete with two large sofas, a wood burning stove, and coffee table, and closer to the kitchen a dining table with six chairs in total. The kitchen was situated against the far end of the tent, with a large sink, wooden counter and a magical hob. There was a pantry loaded with undetectable expansion charms that held well over a year of preserved food. Against the walls all over the tent stood bookcases and dressers full of books and other items Harry had decided to bring along. In the corner near his bedroom stood one of the handful of brooms Harry had brought.

Bilbo all but danced through the tent, pointing out different features and raising his hands over his head in excitement. Harry pulled back the canvas door that led to the guestroom and gestured that Bilbo could use it.

Calming down some, Bilbo now put his right hand over his heart and said a few words while he gave Harry a bow in gratitude. Harry waved him off. He didn't mind sharing what he had with people he liked, and he liked Bilbo a fair deal so far.

After they brought their sparse belongings inside the tent they decided to go to bed again, but now in real, comfortable beds with real, soft sheets. Harry slept like he was back at Hogwarts.

In the morning, Bilbo went to check up on the horses while Harry quickly prepared a pot of oatmeal and a two mugs of tea. They ate on the sofa, which was a more comfortable fit for Bilbo than the huge, oak dining table. After they finished eating, Bilbo puffed on his pipe and went right back to pointing at items while naming them.

When Harry pulled out paper and quill so Bilbo could write down those words as well the small man got really excited and stood watching Harry with a careful eye as he taught him a brand-new alphabet.

And that was their routine for the next few weeks as they travelled ever eastwards over the dirt road. They travelled for most of the day on horseback, though they had a day of rest every four or five days to give the horses a break. And their own arses as well, because much to Harry's surprise sitting on a horse all day long was painful work.

Bilbo was an unforgiving instructor and thanks to his unrelenting attention Harry learned to speak Westron in record time. He still tripped over words regularly and his grammar was atrocious, according to Bilbo, but at least now they could talk and understand each other.

Harry learned that Bilbo came from a place called The Shire, where he lived in a hole in the ground in Hobbiton, with other hobbits. Because that is what Bilbo was. A hobbit. And this hobbit was travelling to Rivendell to spend the fall and winter with the elves there. Next spring he planned on travelling back to his home. And yes, Harry was more than welcome to come along because he was sure the elves would love to meet a man who appeared in front of Bilbo out of thin air with a clap of thunder.

Since the only elves Harry knew were house-elves, there was a bit of confusion until Bilbo described the elves of his world as being tall and having very pretty hair. That's when Harry realized these were not like any elves he'd met before.

Harry also learned that just some years before Bilbo had been part of an adventure that involved a whole lot of dwarves, even more elves, some humans, huge spiders and a dragon. It said something about Harry's own life that none of these things particularly alarmed him. When he told Bilbo that he'd once had to steal a golden egg from a dragon when he was at school, Bilbo had stared at him with shining eyes and demanded he tell the story in full detail.

It became apparent that the dragon Smaug had been quite a bit bigger than the Hungarian Horntail Harry had to outfly once upon a time. Bilbo was ever so disappointed when Harry said he'd never asked his dragon for its name.

It also became apparent that Bilbo had lost friends during that adventure. He spoke of that journey with humour and warmth in his voice, but Harry could see an underlying sadness, perhaps even a heartbreak, that Bilbo carefully tried to conceal. Harry could only sympathize. So far he hadn't told Bilbo the true reason he'd ended up in Middle-Earth.

Bilbo insisted on showing Harry the statues of three large trolls that had turned to stone because Bilbo had outwitted them. Harry then told him about the troll at Hogwarts and how Harry had ended up jamming his wand up its nose, and Bilbo had rolled over on the sofa from laughing so hard.

"Only ten more days," Bilbo said with a huge smile when they got ready to ride for another day. The skies were clear and the weather was looking up after a few days of drizzling rain. Bilbo had certainly appreciated Harry's drying charms during those days. "You're going to love Imladris. It is truly beautiful. Not as magnificent as the Shire, but then few things are," Bilbo said with a wink. "But still quite lovely in its own right. I'm going for the library myself. I only got to glimpse it the last time I was there."

"As long as not everything is covered in mud and shit I'm going to love it," Harry said as he mounted Zilib. She'd gotten quite used to Harry's inexperience and Harry had learned to be a better horse rider thanks to her patience. He truly liked his horse nowadays.

Bilbo thought that Harry's discomfort during his stay in Bree, because that was what the shithole was called, was the height of comedy. "You are just as particular about your cleanliness as the elves," Bilbo said as they rode side by side, his comments aimed at Harry's habit to take a bath every evening. "And if we're in luck Gandalf might also be there," Bilbo added in a more serious tone. "He might know a way to get you back to your home."

So far Bilbo had assumed that Harry had ended up in Middle-Earth by accident, and Harry hadn't yet corrected him since everything had still been too raw for him. He was never going to see his friends and family again because they were all dead from old age. And Harry still barely looked eighteen.

"It was no accident," Harry finally confessed, much to Bilbo's obvious surprise. "Something happened to me a long time ago that stopped me aging. All the people I love are dead and gone and I was left behind. That is why I came here, because I heard there were people here who also do not age."

"The elves," Bilbo said with a knowing smile. "Then it's a good thing, dear Harry, that you've joined me on this journey. I shall get you to the elves and you will find a home amongst them."

"Are you certain I'll be welcome?" Harry asked with a dubious frown. The last thing he wanted was to force his company on people who had no desire for it.

"Lord Elrond is most hospitable," Bilbo assured him. "And I'm absolutely certain the elves will want to hear your stories of your extraordinary life."

"I suppose we'll see." Harry inhaled a deep breath, feeling better now that he'd shared the truth with his new friend. Thankfully Bilbo was the kind of fellow who just took information like that in stride.

The weather stayed sunny and dry for the whole day but in the late afternoon dark clouds gathered on the horizon, promising at the very least some heavy rains, possibly a thunderstorm.

"Let's stop now," Harry suggested when they came across a stretch of grass for the horses in front of some woodland.

"Yes, that does look ominous," Bilbo agreed as he stared at the distant clouds. "If you can catch us another rabbit I can make us some more stew."

Harry had been summoning game and fish for weeks now, much to Bilbo's delight. Partridges, ducks, once a goose, rabbits, hares, trout and pike. And Bilbo knew exactly how to clean and prepare each of them. As Harry put up their tent, he spotted some small holes near the treeline in the distance and aimed his wand at them. "Accio rabbit." A shrieking rabbit came flying out of one of the holes and Harry caught it and quickly dispatched it with a bludgeoning hex. Just then a figure wearing a dark cloak stepped out of the woods some twenty yards away, a bow drawn and an arrow aimed at Harry.

"Drop the stick!" he yelled in Westron.

Harry contemplated if he was quicker with a spell than this man was with his arrow when a second voice sounded to his right. An identical figure in a dark cloak crouched there, also with an arrow aimed at Harry. "I wouldn't," the figure said, drawing his bow back a bit more.

Just then Bilbo came running out of the tent with his own small sword drawn. This brought up the figures at once and they relaxed their bows. "Bilbo Baggins," one of the figures said, pushing his hood back and revealing a very handsome face with long, dark hair and pointy ears.

"Elladan, Elrohir, greetings," Bilbo said with a warm smile. Then he glanced at Harry. "These are Lord Elrond's sons." He gestured between Harry and the elves. "My new friend Harry is accompanying me to Rivendell. He wishes to speak with your father."

A third figure stepped out of the shadows of the woods and he was without question the most handsome man Harry had ever seen. He was tall, toned without being overly muscled. His hair was long and thick and spun from pure gold and his eyes were made of sapphires. His jaw was strong and his skin was flawless and in his eyes shone a light that drew Harry in completely.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Harry moved towards this elf, tripped over Bilbo and they both fell flat on their faces in the grass.