Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or the Hobbit. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am simply a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love.
Note: After all the badass abilities I'm about to explain in this chapter, I can understand some people being worried about an overpowered Harry, to that I say…. do and don't be worried. At night or in the shadows, hell yeah he's overpowered. He's a mother flipping vampire and in my book that means something. But in the daylight, that won't mean much. In the day, he's basically a regular human wizard with one hell of a healing factor.
Note: Gonna be referencing a game from a much further time on the earth timeline. This is not to insinuate the events of his time happened later, it's mainly to get a clear visual for the outfit he's going to be wearing off and on from here on out. What can I say, I liked the look, though I did add some vestments of my own to it.
Note: To my knowledge only one vampire is named in the history of Middle Earth and it is not commonly known, so if it comes up it won't be by the average character.
Note: Been a pretty good response to chapter one so let's keep it moving.
Chapter Two - The Dwarf Prince
With halting footsteps the pit master stumbled over to the edge of the covered fighting pit. It had been several weeks now with the latest addition to his fighting stock, and he was absolutely terrified. He'd given his concerns to Azog, begged for permission to douse the pit in poison, but the great orc had laughed him off and threatened to dismember him and feed his bones to the wargs if he failed in his assigned duties.
It had started simple enough. Test the waters, throw some things down to see what he ate and keep him strong enough to fight. Rats went first, the bones still cluttered the ground beneath. Human slaves followed and their screams were a delight until they'd simply stopped, replaced with deep moaning that had made even him uncomfortable. Finally he'd deemed him ready and dropped in fully aged orcs and goblins to fight for the amusement of the crowds, and they too were devoured by the unearthly being.
Each time he seemed to grow a little stronger, stand a little straighter, and glare all the more heatedly at his captors. Though that paled in comparison to the abilities he'd displayed in those fights, if fights they could still be called. Really they had been one sided slaughters, not nearly enough to get the troop's blood pumping. Each fight had revealed something new of the strange human.
The first foe had swung for his head, and the moment before the notched blade would have decapitated him he burst into a swarm of chittering black bats, allowing the weapon to pass harmlessly past before resolidifying and slicing clean through his foe's neck with those nails of his. The slurps signifying the feast he made of the orc were… less than comfortable for everyone watching.
The next opponent was a goblin sergeant, a veteran of countless raids, and the human let him tire himself out, simply dodging and tapping the side of its short sword with a finger to cause it to overextend. Only when he was bent over and puffing for air, did the human move in for the kill.
The third time a foe entered the ring, the human simply faded back into the darkness of the cell's walls and seemed to disappear. Taunting words in a foreign language seemed to bounce off the walls from nowhere, and as the older orc began to shake with fear, the stranger dived down from above and bore him to the ground, tearing his throat open with those strange teeth of his.
There had been other fights, but it seemed the stranger had grown bored with the spectacle of the crowd. From that point on whenever anyone came to challenge him he simply knocked their blades away and sliced their throats open. No struggle, no fun, no chance or indication of breaking as the white orc had hoped. Now he was simply being held because Azog thought the isolation would get to him where the blatant brutality had not. How wrong he was. The pit master had been doing this long enough to realize when someone wasn't going to break, but the white orc was insistent he be made to serve so he continued to try.
Now here he was, feeding him again. He'd taken to draining the human stock (terrible fighters so no great loss) to feed the new favorite's apparently deep appetite. Letting the swishing bucket fall down at his feet, he filled a hollowed out horn with the ruby fluid, and dropped it nervously through one of the many visible holes in the trapdoor, jerking back to fall on his rump as something massive slammed into the bars. Taking a hint when it was given he turned tail and ran away. Job or not, that thing wasn't worth his life at the moment.
Down in the pit, Harry chuckled darkly as he leaned against the wall and drank deeply of the horn. "These idiots actually think I'm a prisoner down here? How? They've literally seen me tear bodies apart.
{Well dark creatures never were that smart in our world so it makes sense they wouldn't be here either. But in all fairness, you were 'kind of' stuck until you figured out how to actually use those abilities of yours. You didn't even know you could fly until that one goblin swung at you.} Luna mused in his head.
The last few weeks had been eye opening for the boy who lived, and the voice in his head. After that White Dick Azog had clomped him mightily on the head and thrown him in a pit, he'd drained a corpse on instinct to heal (gross), and then purposely done the same to the challengers that came after to see what would happen next. He also used the time to experiment with his new powers. Luna wanted data, he wanted to kill goblins and orcs. Something about a race that sees something new and immediately decides to club it and throw it in a fighting pit for their amusement made him want to rip and tear. What was worse was the very indignity surrounding the fact that they thought they could lock him up. No one was ever locking him up again! The final nail in the coffin that earned his everlasting hatred of the creatures was the ornaments. Every single goblin he had witnessed wore some sort of necklace or bracelet made of bone, human bone… some of them had been very small.
The fact that the violence came so easily for him was a bit worrying until Luna came up with a plausible explanation. Her theory was that the merging of his body with the vampire had also transferred the latent experiences he carried. Hence why his abilities felt so natural and he lacked any aversion to spilling blood. Though that had implied something else as well…
The wizard smirked in the dark and transfigured his drinking horn into a rubber ball, tossing it against the wall only for it to return to his waiting palm. Yes, he had retained all of Voldemort's memories as well, which meant he knew how to invade the mind, control fiendfyre, even fly and apparate, though the last one wouldn't be useful unless he knew where he was going.
Though the most fun he'd had was figuring out what all he could do with his new vampiric powers. Off the bat, he had no problem seeing in the pitch darkness of the cave system. Hell, he had no problem realizing he was in a cave system. His eyes picked up the most minuscule facets of light and his ears tracked the tiniest crunch of a rat's foot on the stone several cave tunnels away. All together these aspects allowed him to form a three dimensional map in his head of his environment and all of its surrounding areas. Harry just knew that the moment he escaped this pit he'd know where every nook, cranny, and goblin was located.
His physical prowess was off the charts and his nails were knives in his hands (eat your heart out Wolverine!). It was almost funny how lethal his digits were to others, yet he'd never actually cut himself by accident. However his favorite new ability (and Luna's) was his mastery of creatures of the night. Sure he could make rodents and other beasts do his bidding (he'd gotten a few younger wargs to throw their riders for fun too) but the best thing about it was becoming a literal swarm of bats. With that trick he could let attacks pass through him, summon other bats to increase his power, travel through the air more fluidly than Voldemort ever dreamed, and see through hundreds of pairs of eyes at once. It also helped his ego that Luna found his little snouts and wings adorable.
"I'm getting bored Luna." He playfully groused. "Can't I just kill the rest of these goblins already and make my escape? It won't even be that difficult. The top of this cage is only wood. I could shatter it with a single punch!"
{Patience, Harry. I've already translated the orc language for you from listening into the crowds, but there were two others spoken that I want a bit more time to dissect. Once I know them, you will too, and I'm assuming wherever you go you'll want to be able to communicate? Hm?}
"Not that I don't appreciate your efforts but don't you think the fact you were a natural born linguist would be something to divulge to your boyfriend?"
{Oh I think you reaped the benefits of my linguistic tongue on many an occasion. It's not my fault you never put two and two together. Now keep drinking your blood, kill a few more dark creatures, and be ready.}
"For what?"
{I'm not sure. I just have a feeling something is coming.}
Several Days Later
Thorin, Son of Thrain, stared at the goblin outpost before him ahead of his raiding force. After so many years of scraping by in the wilds as they waited for time to heal their wounded, they were ready. The women and children were safe with his cousin's folk in the Iron Hills, and the great dwarven army was ready to finally reclaim Moria from those fell forsaken goblins. It was not Erebor, but such a kingdom would do much to reestablish the honor of the royal line, and once the dwarf lords were finally ready to come to his banner once more, they could march on the Lonely Mountain in force. It all started here.
His was one of eight similar forces marching ahead of the army, taking out outposts before the alarms could be raised and Azog's defenses alerted. It was time sensitive, and bound to be bloody, but his men were ready.
Beside him, Balin made his presence known. The aged dwarf had been his instructor of arms as well as one of the greatest tinkerers in the land, and to this day he remained one of his closest friends and advisors. "My prince, the men are ready, but are you sure this is the best course of action?"
Thorin nodded. "Yes. We cannot afford to wait till darkness, the odds of the army's march being spotted are too high. And these caves only have the one entrance."
"But a forward march into the deep-"
"I know, Balin." Thorin gritted his teeth. He'd tried to convince his grandfather to slow the advance long enough to devise a better plan, but he'd been unwilling to listen, too focused on gaining a new hall full of the treasures of Moria to be dissuaded. "I'm sorry, but there is no other plan, no other choice. This outpost needs to fall and it needs to happen sooner rather than later. Once we are inside our men can choke the exit and force those fell beasts to come at us in a manner that their numbers won't matter. Then it's just a matter of slaying them to the last."
"I knew I should have traded positions with Dwalin." The older dwarf groused. "He gets to guard the mead carts today."
Thorin smirked at his surly friend. "And miss all of this action? Who are you and what have you done with the man that taught me to use a blade?"
"That man taught you long enough ago for most humans to have lived two lifetimes. Leave an old dwarf his gripes would you?"
Together they rejoined the thirty members of their party, performed last minute checks of their armor, readied weapons and shields, and made their way to the entrance. It was time to knock on the door.
Down in the deeps of the caverns Harry heard and felt a thunderous boom above him and released a dark chuckle. Setting himself on his feet he cracked his back and looked to the flimsy wooden trapdoor above him. "Is that what we were waiting for, love?"
{It's as good a sign as any. I got the languages ready yesterday, so have at it. Oh, and Harry?}
"Yes, Luna?"
{Make those fuckers scream.}
Harry shuddered with joy at those words. Had he always loved vindictive Luna, or was that a vampire thing? "With pleasure." Staring up at his target he couldn't resist letting out a maniacal cackle. Those fools had fed him blood every day of his captivity. Fun fact about vampires, the more blood consumed, the stronger they became, and they only 'needed' to feed once a month to survive.
Closing his eyes he reached out with his senses, calling to the legions of subterranean bats he'd been calling since he first arrived in this strange new world. When he heard their aggravated chittering on the wind he opened red iris's wide and rocketed into the air to join them. In a flash his body morphed into dozens of angry vampire bats and as one they impacted his only barrier to freedom. It wasn't even a challenge, and as the wood splintered into nothing and the hoard of other flying beasts came to join their strength to his own Harry knew, this was the true power of a Lord of Night.
He felt massive, he felt strong, and his awareness was beyond anything he could even hope to describe to another. Moving as one his hoard filled the cavern and launched themselves as a wave down the nearest passage, shrieking with glee as they did. Before them, the enemy fell. Every goblin, every orc, every wandering warg, all found themselves born to the ground under weight of numbers and relentlessly torn apart by teeth and talons. Yes, the swarm was eating their fill this day.
As one they passed over the cooling corpses of their foes and Harry couldn't help but chuckle along with Luna in his mind. Those silly, silly, creatures actually thought the dark places were their homes, when in reality every place the sun did not shine was his domain.
On and on they went, down side tunnels, filling each hidden crevasse, devouring those fighters remaining in the cages, not a soul was spared by the ever growing swarm. (Harry vaguely took notice of the pit master, his trusty bucket at his feet, and a trio of smaller bats tearing through his ribcage, the damned fool had pissed himself before the end).
Then it was silent, and as Harry moved his consciousness from bat to bat, searching for any stragglers to have escaped his wrath, he took notice of the slight sounds of combat reverberating down the walls from above. He remembered that boom and figured most of the fighters stationed in the caverns had gone to higher ground to defend their base. He gave a pulse of intention and as one his bats regrouped on him and shot like a canon up the nearest ascension shaft. He'd promised Luna that not a single goblin would escape this day… and he kept his promises.
Up above the situation was a lot more grim. The doors to the cave entrance had been closed and barred, of course, but it was no matter for his troops to break through them. Humans had battering rams in their armies, but he had forty fully armed dwarves running shoulder-first at the obstacle with momentum on their side. It never stood a chance. They'd immediately gotten into a formation, round shields interlocked and ready, weapons drawn, and the wait had not been long.
The first hint of the enemy approach had been the scraping of claws on the walls, then the thumping of heavy feet, finally the gleam of night-adjusted eyes and the war cries of the sergeants leading the lessor beings ahead and the foe were upon them with claws and blades flashing.
Thorin had been right, it was bloody, and there were a hell of a lot more goblins present than had been reported by the scouts the night before. It seemed a whole regiment had made this outpost their home instead of the mere sustainment force that had been implied. However regardless of the new odds, the prince could not order his troops to retreat, no matter how much he wanted to. They were committed, their presence known, and if even one goblin made it past them then the march of the main force was doomed.
So they pressed on, swords stabbing and axes chopping, shields holding firm, and a goblin horde trying everything it could to push past the wall of death they represented. "Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" Thorin shouted, a call taken up by the rest of his men, and as a unit each man took one step forward, pushing out with their shields for but a half foot of distance, and stabbed out with sword and axe anew before bringing the shields back for cover.
Again and again they repeated this action, slowly but surely building a secondary wall of dead enemies for the goblins to trip over, but it wasn't enough. They were but forty against two hundred at a rough estimate and though they were holding the high ground in a confined space that limited the effectiveness of the goblin numbers…. his men would eventually grow tired.
Just as he was trying to come up with another strategy, a chuckle slowly made itself heard over the scream and clash of battle. So dark was it, so eerie, that all movement on both sides of the shield wall stopped as heads tilted to hear it more clearly.
Then, it ceased, and a strangely accented voice hovered in the air in the common tongue, "The white orc should have killed me the instant I arrived in this land. Instead he hurt me, trapped me, insulted me, and dared to think himself my superior! You cretins have made the darkness your home but it is my domain! I'm coming for you all." The last sentence twisted off into a hissed whisper that still managed to carry to every ear present.
In an instant the goblins redoubled their efforts, but this time they weren't fighting, no, they were trying to climb over the dwarven shields, they were trying to escape whatever was coming.
"Hold fast!" Thorin called, shoving his own shoulder into his shield to offer what little extra support he could.
"What's coming, lad?" Balin asked, a wild look in his eyes. It made the prince feel a little better about his own worries that the older and more experienced dwarf felt the same way he did.
"I don't know," he answered, "but whatever gets goblins such as these so terrified with just a few words is something I want to meet."
He got his chance sooner than he thought. Mere moments after uttering that fateful phrase to Balin, the screams started. Such utter exclamations of fear, pain, and terror were rather strange to hear coming from the mouths of such dark beings, and the dwarves all wondered if they were perhaps the first to ever experience it. Then the chittering followed, and in a flash the tunnel was filled with thousands of winged creatures that Balin recognized instantly as bats. He'd fed more than a few in his time in the mines. The little critters liked to hang around in the stalactites.
They weren't being the peaceful little cave dwellers now though. No, they were tearing the goblins to shreds. Carving them up as they passed like fresh hams on a spit and if the tone of their calls was anything to go by they were enjoying every second of it.
The press against their shields continued, but every second it grew lighter, and as the force of forty strong lowered their heads to brace for an expected final push, it fell away completely. The steady whoosh of flying beasts over their heads petered off, and as they looked up once more they found the tail end of the flying death-cloud making their way into the open sky behind them to fly way. Well, most of them at least.
Ahead of them was a remaining mass of perhaps three dozen more bats, flapping around in a vertical vortex of leathery wing and high pitched noise. But wait, what were they doing….
It was almost amusing to Harry, taking his vengeance on the dark beings that had sought to break him and use his power. In many ways they reminded him of Dumbledore, and much like him they'd never stood a chance when he got angry enough. He supposed he should be glad of the vampiric impulses he'd inherited, they made the arduous, and to most humans horrifying, process of tearing living beings to shreds rather fun. Inside his head Luna couldn't help but agree.
Though after the last goblin was dead and/or dying on the ground he finally found the source of the prolonged combat that had kept his quarries confined to his domain. And what a sight they were. He pulled his swarm into a stationary position and simply floated, staring at them. They were strange beings. Short of stature, but clearly powerful of build. Large, heavily braided, and ornamented beards hung from their faces, and each were impeccably armed and armored (based on his very limited knowledge of such things). He decided it was time to say hello.
With a thought his body coalesced back into its human form and only by sheer force of will did he stop himself from smirking at the shocked looks he was getting from the short men before him. He knew what they were seeing in him. Pale skin, pointed nails, blood red eyes, he was sure to cut quite the figure. Literally, considering he was mostly naked. Yup, goblin pits and a lot of fights did not make a good situation for clothing longevity. Funny how he hadn't noticed till now.
As the two sides simply stared at each other, Harry decided to get his love's take on the strangers. "Luna, do these look like dwarves to you?" He ignored the curious look the apparent 'dwarves' were giving him at seemingly talking to no one and Luna did as well.
{I'd say so, love. They certainly look the part based on what I've read. Oh, they have fantasy armor on! I can see the small rune etchings from here. That's so cute! Can you conjure up some tights and brogues to wear? You know, to fit in with the aesthetic?}
"I'd really rather not."
{But you'd look cute too.} Even though he couldn't see her Harry could just feel the pout she was putting on, and as when she was alive it was downright devious.
"Tell you what, I'll make something equally fantasy related and call it good, yeah?" When he heard no complaints he took it as one of the few small arguments he'd won in their relationship and, still ignoring the wary shuffling of the dwarves, he raised a hand and twisted it in the air focusing on a new conjuration while he did so. The clothing wouldn't last more than a couple hours, but hopefully by then he'd be able to steal more, or transfigure a permanent outfit out of other articles.
His body flashed with azure light for a moment and when it cleared his new outfit was ready for Luna's hungry perusal. He'd based it off some fanart he'd seen for some popular video game release, the Witcher 3. He wore black pants made out of a light cotton that gave his legs room to breath, dark brown leather boots covered his feet, his chest was bare but a long robe-like overcoat folded closed over it and hung down to mid calf to only expose a tasteful amount of skin. Said coat was a piece of beauty: dark blue in color yet stenciled with intricate designs of bats in flight. The collar at the top was folded down displaying a burgundy furred interior, and to top it all off a wide black belt of leather cinched around his waist to hold everything in place.
{You look like a hotter Olgierd von Everec!} Luna squeed with joy.
"You played the game? How?"
{Daddy got a system to work at the Rookery. He hoped the ambient electricity would draw out the crumple horned snorcack.} a note of sadness entered her voice then and he knew it was because she would never see her beloved father again, {It didn't work.} On a dime, as things often were with her, Luna's voice returned to its normal cheerful self and she said, {Shouldn't you be addressing those dwarves already? They probably think you mad.}
"Why shouldn't they, the best people are."
{Flattery will get you everywhere, now march.}
Taking her words to heart, he did so, moving to approach the armored contingent, and stopping short when he saw how far they'd retreated while he was having his conversation. They were now back at the entrance to the tunnel, where the sun was shining down on the ground before them. Well that was going to be troublesome.
"Ho, strangers." Harry intoned with a happily raised hand, hoping he'd chosen the correct language from Luna's inventory to speak. It seemed he'd been right, as two particularly well attired individuals stepped up to meet him, still annoyingly behind the sunlight.
"Greetings." The younger of the two, a black bearded dwarf, spoke for them. "Is there someone else in there with you?"
Harry looked around jokingly for a moment before answering, "Nope." He let them grow progressively more stressed for a few seconds before continuing, "Really, no one else is here, but the soul of my girlfriend is in my head. I'm a wizard you see and such things are not really so strange for my kind."
He'd expected to need to work hard to convince them of this but the older of the two simply shrugged and addressed the other himself. "It makes sense. We did see those clothes come out of nowhere."
"Yes, but where did he come from? How did he kill the goblins as he did? I've never seen a wizard kill in such a way."
"You know other wizards?" Harry asked, immensely pleased he was not alone in this world.
"Aye. The White Council has a few." The younger dwarf eyed him for a moment before reaching out his hand. "Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. "I am Thorin, son of Thrain. Prince of Erebor."
For a brief second Harry considered the hand before him, as well as the sunlight clearly shining down upon it, and thought about refusing, but the voice of Luna pestering him about manners drove him on and he reached out his own to shake. The moment his hand closed around Thorin's in the sunlight it began to smoke and burn, and though it was painful enough to make him nearly bite through his tongue, the skin kept healing back over faster than it festered. It was like a wave pushing up on a beach, disturbing everything in sight, only to pull back and set things to rights once more.
The now named prince stared at the sight, even as Harry pulled his hand back into the safety of the shadows. "Could we not do that again? As you saw it is rather painful for me." At his nod he said, "In the style of your people, I am Harry son of James. And to answer your question from before, I was able to kill these wretched beings so easily because I am not just a wizard, but also a vampire."
"Vampire?"
"Vampire?"
Both dwarves were completely confused by the term, so Harry gave them a brief rundown of what he was, blood drinking and all. They were understandably wary until he swore a magical vow to not drink from any of their number without approval. The speed at which they accepted this made it seem that they had heard of wizards doing such things before, and making it clear he meant them no harm eased a lot of worries for all present.
For his part, Thorin was thinking about how easily this creature had dispatched hundreds of goblins, and wondering if it could be convinced to join his cause. The army could make good use of someone with this much strength. "What are your plans then, Harry son of James? Do you wish to stay here? Travel?"
"I hadn't really thought that far ahead." Harry kicked a nearby corpse into the wall in his agitation. "I arrived in this land under what you might call troubling circumstances, and the first thing that happens is some white orc asshole knocks me in the head and throws me in a pit. I want him dead. I want to crush his skull in my hands and massacre whatever forces are under his command. More than that, I'll see as I go. To that end, I can't help but notice you were fighting a healthy number of goblins readily enough. Any chance you're going to kill more?"
Sensing the clear opportunity Thorin answered, "Many more."
Eyes wide with shock, Balin intoned, "My prince-"
But Thorin wasn't listening, so intense was his concentration on the vampire. "We march to war against the goblins of Moria, a stolen dwarf kingdom. Azog, the white orc, is commanding their forces. Can you do what you did here again?"
Harry's eyes were similarly focused. "At night and in the darkness yes, but in the day I'm merely very strong and very fast. But you'll have my magic at your disposal as well."
"Is that you asking to join my number?"
"Is that you asking for my strength?"
"It sounds like you have nothing better to do."
Harry smiled, purposely stretching his lips to reveal his fangs. "You understand that I eat people right?"
Thorin shrugged, "You already swore to not consume me or mine. Everything else around here is either deadly in nature or actively wants us dead. Have at them."
Unbeknownst to the Dwarf, during this entire conversation Harry had been sifting through his memories with legilimancy, and he was finding several things about this prince quite fascinating. "I think I like you, Thorin son of Thrain. I believe I will travel with you for a while."
At that Balin needed to step in. "If you fight with the army you fall in line. You will listen to the orders of the prince, his father, and-"
"I follow the orders of no man." Harry hissed, his eyes glowing with repressed anger as thoughts of his old life came to the surface. Memories of the day he discovered Dumbledore knew all along about the abuse he suffered at the Dursley's front and center. "If my strength is desired I will provide it, but I am a Lord of Night. I do not follow or kneel."
This time it was Thorin's turn to nod appreciatively. "I think I like you too. You gonna be good to come out and march with us? What with the whole, skin burning thing?"
Harry shrugged, conjured a wide brimmed hat over his head, and stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat. "I am now. Carry on partner."
Thus it was that forty dwarves returned to the main force from their raid with zero casualties and a vampire in tow.