A Note From Sun Queen: Hey people! Look! Look! I've finally managed to introduce some other characters, none other than Harry Potter and the unforgettable Gryffindor boys! Yay! *Sun Queen throws confetti as brass band and Boy Scouts begin to march down main street of hole-in-wall town where the illustrious author-chick dwells.*
Also, to clear up confusion, Acromantula are the big spiders that Harry and Ron encountered in the Forbidden Forest in the second book. Aragog was an Acromantula, although not the one Legolas fought.
In answer to one review, I know this is more movie-verse Legolas than book-verse. Although book Legolas is beyond cool, movie-verse Legolas is easier to use in this story because he presents the same mental picture to all the readers. Everyone can visualize him: the way he moves, the way he talks, his clothes, his hair...besides, the talented Mr. Bloom is quite snog-worthy. Can anyone blame me for describing him? :) But seriously, braids are simply quite practical, and fighting with two knives makes you more dangerous than with just one blade.
And, on a totally off-topic note, I saw the year's first icebergs in the bay! They were just little growlers (Newfoundland slang term for a small berg, less that 100 feet long,) but I didn't see any bergs last year *or* the year before, so even bergy-bits are cool...they say this is gonna be a great season for icebergs, which makes me happy. They go drifting past the headlands, sculpted blocks of pure white ice, reflecting the blue or green or grey of the water and the sky. Someone once told me they were the ghosts of lost cathedrals. Legolas would like them, too, seeing as how the sea calls to him!
Chapter Nine: Sunlight, Blades, and Blood.
Sunlight streamed through the open window, settling lazily over the Boy Who Lived, waking him from warm dreams of phoenixes, Quidditch, and his mother's green eyes. Harry Potter opened his eyes, his jaw cracking as he yawned hugely. The bed creaked beneath him as he fumbled sleepily for his glasses, brushing a lock of hair out of his face by habit. One bed over, Ron Weasley shifted and muttered in his sleep, tugging his sheets up to the roots of his carroty hair.
Harry was pulling his school robes over his head when Seamus Finnigan, a fellow Gryffindor fifth-year lurched past, heading for the bathroom. "Mornin'," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, but paused as he passed the open window.
"Hey Harry, have a look at this..." Two heads, one dark, one sandy blond, leaned out the window, staring in puzzlement at a distant group of wizards, clustered around some large black shape, near the edge of the Forbidden forest. "Whadda' ya think they're doin'?"
"I dunno. They're too far away to see...I don't think they're teachers, though. It's pretty early for visitors...wonder what's going on?"
Behind Harry, Ron had abandoned his warm bed and comfortable dreams for a perch at the window. He, too, was staring in puzzlement at the distant flock of figures.
"Hey Harry, Ron-" now Dean Thomas had joined the conversation, "-don't you two have Omnioculars? Get 'em out so we can have a look. I wanna know what's going on..."
"Sure." Harry turned and began to rummage through his school trunk for the fancy wizard's binoculars he'd bought at last year's Quidditch World Cup. Beside him, Ron emerged from under his rumpled bed, with dust in his hair and on his pajamas, but clutching his Omnioculars triumphantly.
"Right, then. Let's have a look." Harry butted over to the window, whipped his glasses off his nose, and held up his Omnioculars. He spun the dial, focussing the glass lenses on the edge of the Forest.
"Holy shit..." Dean swore reverently, having accepted Ron's Omnioculars and pressing them to his own eyes. Ron's jaw had dropped, and he'd stepped back from the window, one hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick.
Harry knew how his friend felt. In the midst of the milling wizards stood a massive, motionless Acromantula; a hairy, horse-sized spider of the type he and Ron had encountered in the Forbidden Forest during their second year. They'd barely escaped from *that* little misadventure with their lives.
Seamus was tugging at the sleeve of his robes, demanding to know what was going on. Harry began to elaborate on Dean's two-word commentary. "Professor Dumbledore is down there. He's talking to...god, it's Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. There's a pile of Ministry wizards...I think they captured an Acromantula out of the forest...it's a dirty great spider, we studied them in Care of Magical Creatures, remember?"
"Wonder what they want with one of those things? They're supposed to be really dangerous..." mused Dean, the borrowed Omnioculars still jammed to his face. "Hang on-Jesus!"
Dean's voice had risen to a yelp, and Harry bit back a yell; the huge spider had started moving, and it wasn't slowing down. He zoomed the focus up to maximum, and could make out the panic on the Ministry wizards' faces as the great beast charged towards them. Even from his perch in the castle, he could hear the distant yelling. Spells were being thrown about, and above the muted racket, he could make out the spider's screeching roar.
"Oh no..." Harry's mouth went dry as he swung the focus over to Albus Dumbledore, grim and composed, large as life, as if he were standing four feet away, rather than a good five hundred yards. The spider was bearing down on him, eight long legs working madly as it charged. He could see Dumbledore's lips working furiously as he threw a dozen spells at the crazed creature, but it barely slowed. Harry choked back a cry as one long leg shot out and sent the Headmaster flying.
Harry was vaguely aware of Ron yelling, Dean swearing, and of Seamus yanking madly at his sleeve, desperate to know what was going on. All he could see was his old mentor hitting a tree and sliding limply to the ground, a bright line of blood on the trunk behind him. The spider, pincers clicking, turned and lumbered in Dumbledore's direction. "Oh, god, oh no, oh no..." Harry whispered, unable to help himself. Dean could only stare in speechless horror.
Then an angel stepped up to the plate.
Harry was never certain afterwards, even with the entire situation recorded by the Omnioculars, where exactly Legolas had come from. All he realized was that somehow the young, blond hippy-haired bloke from dinner had suddenly materialized on the scene, snarling like a Rottweiler, two wicked-looking knives raised in combat position.
Harry mentally debated whether or not he could get down to the Forest in time to help Dumbledore, but he found he couldn't tear his gaze away from the fight. In a blur of motion, (which Harry replayed in slow motion several times, later that day), the blond man threw one of his knives, lodging it in one of the spider's bulbous eyes. He saw the creature rear and shriek, then charge after Legolas.
"Sweet Christ, he'd better run..." Dean was frantically clinging to the Omnioculars that Ron and Seamus were trying to wrestle away from him. "Stop it! Give 'em back!"
Ron emerged victorious, panting from the scuffle, and jammed the brass binoculars to his face. His head swivelled as he tracked the running man and the charging spider across the lawn below them. "What the hell's he doing?"
Harry watched in horrified fascination as Legolas shot up one of the old oak trees like a squirrel. The spider, a blade still lodged deep in its eye, began to thrash through the leaves with its forelegs, trying to knock Dumbledore's friend out of the tree. Just when Harry was certain the trapped man couldn't hold out much longer, he dropped suddenly out of the foliage. Right onto the spider's back.
"Oh man..." breathed Ron, his gaze transfixed on the battle, watching as the blond man ripped his knife free, and leapt off the monster's back, a blur of gold and green, the sun glinting off his hair and bloodstained blades.
"What the *hell* is he doing?" Ron asked again, spinning the magnifying dial for better focus. Indeed, the blond man was running with renewed purpose and direction, barely ten feet ahead of the enraged creature. "Where's he leading it?"
Up the hill, past the lake, and suddenly, realization dawned on Harry. "The Whomping Willow!"
The agonized screams of a spider who is having the ever-loving crap beat out of it floated over the air.
The rest of the fight happened almost to quickly to follow. One moment, Legolas was *under* the spider, the next he was atop it, blades flying, blond hair whipping madly, blood flashing crimson in the air, the great black spider heaving and roaring. One last, desperate thrash, and the young man was airborne, hitting the ground some distance away with a bone-jarring impact. Beside him, Harry saw Seamus wince. "Ouch."
Dean had recaptured Ron's Omnioculars, and had pressed them to his eyes with renewed determination. "No." he said adamantly. "He's gonna get up. He's not finished yet. He's gonna get up!"
But the blond man didn't stir. He lay on his back, stunned, as the bleeding creature lurched over to him, pincers clicking and dripping foul black poison.
"God, where are the other Ministry wizards?" Ron croaked, his freckles standing out against his pale face. "That thing's gonna kill him!"
The spider leaned in for the kill; the battered man lay limp, his golden hair spread out under his head like a flattened halo. Seamus groaned, a low, grieving tone, and lowered his eyes.
A brilliant flash of sunlight on metal, and the blond man was sinking to the ground once more, one of his blades buried in the spider's head. The enormous creature teetered on its eight hairy legs, then crashed to the ground, a pool of purplish-red blood oozing out from beneath the black, bulky body.
"Is it..." Dean's voice trailed off, his pair of Omnioculars still trained on the scene below.
"I think it's dead." Harry answered tightly, as sudden crowds of faculty and ministry wizards converged on the battered blond figure. There was blood all over the grass, and Harry would bet his Firebolt that it didn't all belong to the dead Acromantula.
Harry saw Professor McGonagall levitate the unconscious man, and turn to hurry towards the school, her face white, her hands trembling. She was followed by a very familiar phoenix, who was still hovering, dripping tears over the blond man's face.
"Fawkes?" whispered Harry, watching as the entourage vanished into the castle's shadow. *Dumbledore*, he thought, his throat tight. Then, he dropped the Omnioculars into the pocket of his school robes, and ran for the door. The other Gryffindor boys were close on his heels.
**********
The tower room was still dark and empty some time later, the rumpled beds cold, one pair of Omnioculars lying abandoned on the floor. They were still whirring quietly, recording a continuous image of the stone floor.
The oak door squeaked on its hinges, and a pair of feet in wildly mismatched socks crept soundlessly into the Omnioculars' recording. An unfamiliar alto voice, quavering and melodious, was heard to whisper. "Harry Potter, sir? Harry Potter?"
A brief pause, a muffled sob, and the mismatched socks fled from view.
The Omnioculars' whirring died as the scene faded to black.
To be continued...as Fudge recovers from his *shock*, a storm gathers in the mind of an Elf. Is Legolas strong enough to fight off the poison in his blood and soul? What's wrong with Dobby? Tune in next week for the exciting adventures of a Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court!