UPDATED: Friday, April 23, 2004

Author's Note: Like I said in the fiction discussion thread, this is the story that I meant to do for a new take on my carry on story long ago. Although I altered much of the mystery and plot, the idea/theme of reincarnations and the infusion of two worlds remain the same. (That's for those of you who have read and/or worked with me before on the harry potter carry on's.) Below, is only part of the first chapter and is a bit rough. I may, later, go back and make a few tiny changes. But, being the impatient and hyped person that I am, I couldn't wait to show this off to everyone who reads my work! Enjoy and please pm/post me a nice review. .

Title: Dead Man Walking

Author: Sodapop Allerdyce

Category: Books Harry Potter (Book Crossovers Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings)

Genre: Mystery/Action/Adventure/Fantasy

Rated: G to PG-13

Spoiler: Year 6

Synopsis: After ending a dramatic fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry begins to have these strange "visions" in his dreams. He has not a clue as to what these dreams could mean. Only that somehow, they feel so...familiar?

Completeness: Chapter One with more on the way.

Disclaimer: I don't own a single thing that J.R.R. Tolkien and J.K. Rowling created within their stories.

Dead Man Walking

Chapter One: In the Eyes of the Beholder

With eyes closed, he could hear the sounds of pain, sobs of sorrow, and anger echoing about in his ears that he would never forget. The rise and fall of his chest was moving with slight difficulty for his body was growing weary from battling nearly endless battalions of oncoming, rampaging orcs from Isenguard. The sound of crunching leaves on the forest floor and the scrapping of a grip shifting upon a sword's handle, alerted his wondering mind that he must not linger further or it could mean his death. He quickly reached up and grabbed the cold, black iron shield that was pinning him to the trunk of a tree by the neck. Carefully shifting his position and weight, he jerked his head downwards to free it, but he only ended up slamming his chin onto the edge of the gap. The tiny surge of pain caused his eyes to snap open to reveal a huge, rusty colored Urak Kai leader coming in for the kill, slowly raising its bizarre shaped sword. His eyes widened and heart raced, as the blade was brought forth to his neck.

Just in a mere few seconds before contact, he shifted again and managed to slip his head below the shield, free of harm's way. He sighed in deep relief as the sound of metal against wood was heard above his head. Without a moment to lose, with the orc still going in follow through, he reached towards his side and unsheathed his mighty sword as he moved towards the orc with great speed. The gleaming blade immediately penetrated dark flesh upon the Urak Hai's bare stomach. Instead of hearing a satisfying cry of pain, there came a roar of anger as the creature turned its attention and kicked the ranger in the side to get him off. Gripping his weapon tightly as he was rolling off to the side, he soon countered that by flipping up onto his feet. Once again, his opponent came charging forth and this time the ranger was ready for him.

The forest was soon filled with sounds of metal clashing, cries of anger, and the rustling of leaves as the two traded off advances and sending one another to the ground. At one point, the Urak Kai managed to trip him, but the ranger quickly regained balance and brought out his dagger to meet the orc's right leg. With the creature's attention shifted to its wound, he lifted his sword and brought it down like an axe to sever the arm holding the sword. Bringing his ranger blade back up and a few inches to the right, plunged the tip deeply into the Urak Hai's belly. Getting the thing's attention, it reached out with lightning speed to grab and plunge the weapon even deeper. Although this cost the orc more pain, it brought the ranger closer in range enough for it to attack psychically. But before the creature could do any damage and with his grip weak, the mortal was able to slid it back out of reach. Tables were turned as the ranger swung his sword to take his turn in decapitating his foe as the final blow.

The thick, oily blood of the proud Urak Hai leader shown brightly upon the blade of the ranger as he completed the follow through of the blow. Also, moving his gaze along with the hurtling creature's head before it hit the ground with some interest and disgust. He remained still like this until he heard the rough, disappointed grunt of a familiar dwarf coming not far from behind him. The sound quickly shattered his unseeing state and forcing life back into his cloudy, green-grey eyes of their battle spirit. With reality rapidly crashing down on him, the ranger's heart was filled with grief and sorrow as the memories of a dying friend came back to mind. "Boromir...," he whispered under his breath as he turned to make a mad dash in the direction of his companion.

The colors of the lush forest began to blur as tears began to sting his eyes...and the sound of pounding feet and knocking on wood could be heard?! Bolting upright in bed, a sleepy teenager with dark brown messy hair named Harry Potter, got his own reality wake up call. Rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, he slowly took in his surroundings of old springy beds and dusty antique lamps about the cramped bedroom. Feeling a sudden wave of nausea coming on, Harry laid back down to wait for his mind to clear. He stared up at the chipped ceiling, since it seemed like the only thing in the room that wasn't 'moving.'

As the waves of dizziness calmed to ripples in the young sorcerer's mind, so did the abnormally bright shade of green of his eyes. He blinked a couple of times, and they were soon back to their normal dark emerald. Suddenly, the knocking from earlier became louder and Harry realized that someone had been there doing so since he woke. "Harry, dear?" came the sweet, high voice of Mrs. Weasley from the other side. "Are you awake and dressed yet?" "Uhm...no, Ma'am..." said the latter in a hoarse voice, laced with sleep that was vanishing rapidly. He yawned and stretched a bit before reaching over to the night stand for his glasses. "Well, you better hurry up before the twins decide to start eating your breakfast without you, Harry dear!" yelled Mrs. Weasley over her shoulder as her footsteps faded towards the stairs down the hallway.

'Those two must have bottomless stomachs,' thought Harry as he shook his head and crawled out of bed. He hissed softly as feet touched cold floor from the morning's freeze. This is what he hated about waking up in the morning and having a habit of wearing no socks to bed or around the house. Harry made his way over to the end of his bed to go rifling through his trunk for clean clothes. Spending a couple of minutes with no success of finding clean laundry, he got lazy and just grabbed his crimson and gold Quidditch uniform cloak and slipped it on over his pajamas.

Making his way down the hall to the stairs, Harry could feel the small grooves in the old wooden floor from years of use. Somewhere in his mind, it told him that this texture reminded him of the old wooden platforms that snaked about the trees within' the Lothlorian forest. During the night when he couldn't sleep, he would take off his weather beaten boots and go wondering about the balconies that lay near the open air room. Suddenly bringing a stand still to these "memories," Harry wondered where did that come from. 'I don't...never have...owned any boots in my life...' he thought. Harry turned these ideas over in his mind as he descended the first flight of stairs. But the more he thought about it, the more confusion it caused him in finding it's source, it's cause.

As Harry zigzagged his way through the obstacle course of furniture through the living room, he tried to find a logical explanation for these strange dreams just before a headache began to form. Recalling all the dreams he had since the last couple of days of his fifth year and the start of summer vacation, they were all about the same person. Harry was never able to get a good look at this person, but he did know that this man was named Aragorn. Well...at least that was what people referred to him as in his dreams. Either that or Strider. From what Harry could tell, Aragorn was a tall, observative, intelligent and a courageous fighter. He was especially good with wielding a sword.

Whenever one of these dreams came on, Harry had no control whatsoever in what he did in his dreams except his own thoughts...and sometimes he heard Aragorn's...It was like he was in this man's mind and seeing, doing, and feeling what he did. Through the eye's of an experienced warrior, Harry could see wonderful landscapes of devine forests and fields. Plus, to know what it feels like to kill a living thing in battle and not take time to pity it. Somehow this was all possible...Somehow these dreams felt...

Various "Good Morning, Harry"'s and "Oiye, Harry!"'s came flooding through his ears, interrupting his train of thought. With the mist clearing from his mind and eyes, they soon regained focus on reality. Harry's vision was met with a group of familiar, freckled faces and red haired family that were the Weasleys. Suddenly, he was able feel his fingers rubbing his temples free of a minor headache, which he hadn't noticed until now. Curling his lips into a small smile, Harry said in his usual soft, shy morning voice, "Good Morning..." He walked over to the table to sit in his usual seat next to Ron and across from the twins, Fred and George. Mrs. Weasley was soon at his side, serving him some fresh pancakes, bacon, eggs and a cup of freshly squeezed orange juice. "Are you alright, Harry dear?" she asked kindly, her tone of a concerned mother.

"Huh?" came the muffled reply of the latter with a chunk of toast in his mouth. Looking up to clarify the question asked of him, Harry said in return, "I'm fine." It was a flat and vague answer, but Mrs. Weasley accepted it anyways. She didn't feel like pushing the matter. For all she knew, Harry was probably still depressed over his late godfather, Sirius Black. Ending the conversation, Mrs. Weasley made her way around to the Twin's side of the table to give them second helpings to breakfast. Harry slowly picked up his fork and began to chow down on his pancakes. He was used to that question by now, but never really wanted to give a lengthy answer to whoever asked. Everyone believed it was Sirius on his mind, but that wasn't always true. Not these days.

A few moments later, after everyone had finished eating, Mrs. Weasley announced that she would be taking everyone to Diagon Alley today to go shopping for supplies for the coming school year in a few days. Rushing back upstairs, all the teenagers quickly got dressed in some normal muggle street clothes with their black school cloaks over them. About fifteen minutes later, they all piled out of the cramped station wagon and made their way through the Leaky Cauldron. Gathered out back standing in front of the brick wall, Mrs. Weasley took out her wand and tapped certain bricks in a specific pattern to make them shift and allow the group passage. Once the bricks shifted into an arched doorway to reveal the alley beyond, their gazes were met with crowds of wizards shrouded in dark colored cloaks that were protecting them from the rain.

Looking up to the cloudy sky above, Mrs. Weasley mumbled softly out of wonder, "What strange weather we're having..." Then to herself, 'I have never known it to rain here...' With her wand still in hand, she quickly swished and flicked it to conquer up six rain proof cloaks with hoods. Before allowing any of her charges to enter, Mrs. Weasley handed each of them a cloak and some money before running off. Fred and George raced off down the alley to get to the other end where the joke shop was. Ginny immediately ran into a bunch of her fellow fifth year girlfriends to go check out the clothing and shoe stores. Leaving Ron and Harry to make their way over to the Magical Mangerie to rendevous with Hermione.

Upon arrival just outside the pet shop, Hermione came out with a smile for them and hands busy holding bags of school and cat supplies for her cat, Crookshanks. Putting her burdens down on the ground, she came over and gave then each a warm welcome and hug. Hermione took a quick peek at her silver watch that her parents had gotten her for her sweet sixteenth birthday. Looking back up at the boys, she said, "As much as I love seeing you guys again, I'm sorry that I can't stay long this time. I need to get back to the Leaky Cauldron shortly after lunch time. So we'll have to rush for now, is that okay? Let's go!" And with that, Hermione quickly lead the way over to Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occassins shop, back the way that the boys had come. They went here first because she had insisted upon getting them all new robes since their old ones had been battered from their last adventure. Over the next couple of hours, Hermione dragged her friends almost all over Diagon Alley. They went to the stationary store, Fine Quidditch Supplies, a couple of book stores, and then went to the ice cream shop for a much needed lunch break.

Afterwards, Ron requested to go to the joke shop to see what the Twins were up to now. When the trio did get there, to Harry and Hermione's relief, they didn't see any of the new incoming first and second years' faces twisted in illness that were gathered around Fred and George in front of the shop. While Ron went to go look in the shop and chat with his brothers, Harry and Hermione stood nearby the crowd, not interested in what the shop had to offer. Soon, Harry's attention began to wander to gaze about at the dark clad figures going by them. He found it a little unnerving to see absolutely everyone in such dark cloaks. They reminded him of Death Eaters and Dementors, of whom he didn't have fond memories of.

Hermione shifted her weight over to her other leg in slight boredom, then checked her watch again. "Oh shoots! It's almost 1 o'clock!" she said anxiously. Hearing the alarm in her voice, Harry turned his gaze to her just as Ron was coming back over to them. "You need to get back already?" asked Harry. She nodded, "Do you guys want to come with me?" "Sure, no problem, Herm," answered Ron. "Harry?" The latter checked his own watch and shook his head at them. "No. Sorry, Hermione. Since we ourselves have to get going in an hour or so, I must get to Ollivander's right now. See you in a couple of days, Hermione." The two quickly traded hugs before she and Ron made their way about the crowd and down the alley to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry turned on his heal and walked past a few shops over to Ollivander's wand shop.

Inside Ollivander's, the shop was narrow and filled with shelves that held thousands of little narrow boxes of wands. The room was dimly lite by the incoming sunlight and oil burning lamps. There was an arm chair near the window and a front desk some odd feet away. Harry walked straight up to the counter and tapped the little service bell. The little ting of the bell was soon followed by the squealing sound of wheels sliding across a rail. Soon, the form of Mr. Ollivander appeared, perched high on that book case latter. The old man's face twisted into a smile as his misty eyes came to rest upon Harry's. "Ahhh...Mister Harry Potter has returned! Long time no see, young sir. What brings you here this time?"

"Er...Hello, Mr. Ollivander. I'm here to get my wand fixed...or replaced...," said Harry in a slow reply. Reaching into his cloak's inner chest pocket, he pulled out his battered wand and handing it over to the curious shop owner. Harry quickly supplied that he had busted it during a Defense Against The Dark Arts class fifth year. He lied by saying that a new spell that the class had been practicing had gone awry when two people had fired the same spell that collided into both wands. Breaking or disabling their magical use somehow. Ollivander just raised a silver brow at this and said nothing in return as he continued to scrutinize Harry's wand. With a few quick mutters to himself, the old man soon looked up at Harry and said, "In conclusion, your wand can't be fixed, Mr. Potter. I'll have to hand you some wands to test you again. There are some new brands that came in earlier, I'll go to the back and get them for you. Wait here."

Shortly after Ollivander left the front desk, the sound of creaking hinges on the front door announced the entrance of another customer. The little hair's on the back of Harry's neck suddenly raised and that feeling made him not want to turn around to see who the newcomer was. He could hear the soft clonking of boots tapping the floor as the person drew nearer. Harry could now see a tall figure (not much taller than him) standing next to him clad in a black cloak with the hood remaining up within his perepheral vision. Judging by the built, it was a man. The hood moved slowly from side to side as the mysterious man studied the appearance of the wand shop. Soon the gaze fell upon the bell and a black leather gloved hand tapped it a couple of times. The call brought the shop owner rushing back.

With his arms full of narrow boxes, Ollivander carefully placed them on the counter before Harry and then scooted over to the new customer in waiting. Harry quickly chose a wand and began testing it in the direction of a nearby empty book shelf. Once the wooden shelves of the object snapped off and fell to the floor, he placed the wand back to grab another. Just as Harry was doing so, he noticed the hooded figure's head ever so slightly turned in his direction and then back to the old man at the counter. Ollivander struck up his cheery smile again and said, "Welcome to Ollivander's Fine Wands shop! I don't believe I have seen you here before, young man. How may I help you?"

'Young man?!' thought Harry in surprise as he got out a third new wand to swish and flick away at a corner of empty boxes. To prove that he wasn't hearing things, the young man under the dark cloak began to speak. "Hello, Mr. Ollivander. You are right, we have never met. I'm sort of new to this area," he said. His voice sounded young and calm, but wise in some way. "I have a favor to ask of you..." he said as one hand shifted the cloak on his right side away to reveal a dark brown leather belt. There were some loops on the belt, one was occupied by a foot to a foot and half long white wand of some sort. This didn't look like any wand that Harry had ever seen for it was thicker in mass around and one end didn't narrow down to a stubbed point.

The mysterious youth held up the wand near his chest, but not outstretched to the store clerk. Harry watched intently now, as a gloved thumb slowly stroked over a string of engraved golden symbols upon the upper end of the wand. Since the little store had gone utterly silent, the wizards could hear the young man softly inhale and chant, "Bragol alaa, Ita'istar." The enchantment caused the symbols to glow softly as the image of the white wand began to shimmer like a mirage in a desert. One end began to grow downwards, so the youth moved it a few inches away from his body. While that end made its journey to the ground, the other increased a bit before sprouting into an intricately weaved carving with a strange jewel trapped within' it. Once that jewel had manifested into the carving, the tall, narrow, ivory white wizard's staff had ceased its soft glow and shimmering dulled until the rays of torch light were able to reflect off of it.

Harry and the elderly shop keeper gazed at this in an amazed stupor. The stranger shifted his grasp upon the staff and placed the end tip upon the wooden floor of the wand shop. From the way he held it, it was as if it were a walking stick. "I ask of you to find a wand that matches the material of this staff," said the soft spoken voice of the youth. He carefully lifted the wand and placed it upon the front counter. With his hand still upon it and slowly observing the shop once again, "If such a thing were to exist...in this time and day..." Suddenly snapping out of his stupor, Mr. Ollivander nodded his head briskly and placed his own wrinkled hand upon the mysterious staff.

"I'll get on it, young sir!" said Mr. Ollivander. The hood gave a curt nod of recognition and released his grip. Ollivander scooped up the staff with both hands balancing it near the ends and turned to make his way towards the opposite end of his shop. Although the old shop keeper had many burning questions to ask the young sorcerer, after witnessing such a sight as he did, Ollivander was so anxious to examine the staff that his bewilderment didn't seem important.

Soon the little shop had gone quite once more, with only the faint sounds of breathing and the patter of rain upon the roof. Harry's hands slowly made their way back to sorting through the pile of wands. He felt like he needed to occupy himself so that he wouldn't have to fill in the silence. His mind was not quite ready to let him voice any curiosity he had towards this stranger. Harry felt like he needed to observe this person more than to question. But, that need soon faded away after a few moments of utter silence between the two and some odd defect wands later. Placing the wand back down and finally turning his attention to the hooded figure, Harry asked shyly, "Uh...Excuse me, sir...Who are you?"

Upon being addressed, the mysterious youth straightened his posture and slowly turned to face the young sorcerer and to lean against the counter. For the first time and at a new angle, Harry could now see that he had deep blue eyes. The eyes were all he could see amongst the shadows that shrouded the youth's face in darkness underneath the dark hood. "All I am is but a wanderer seeking knowledge of this changing land. To see what this place has to offer and teach me that of what other places could not. Am I right in assuming that there is a place of learning here?" asked the stranger in his usual calm voice.

Harry didn't answer him right away for he was taking the time to absorb this information and sort it. The answer to his question was vague...or more like it was incryptive...but either way, it didn't exactly answer the question asked. "Er...there isn't a school here...but there is one not far from King Cross Station called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm a sixth year there," answered Harry. Then in a curious, slightly suspicious tone, "Why you ask?"

There was a short pause and then the youth spoke in a reflective tone, "Ah...Hogwarts. Now that name does ring a bell... Before I moved here, I had the option of going to any wizarding school within' Europe. I thought I'd check this place out before I headed on over to Germany and France. Besides, at least the people here speak English!" The stranger grinned warmly underneath his hood, but Harry didn't notice.

A "wow" expression spread across Harry's face. "That's cool. So...does that make you an American?" he asked. He has never met an American before nor one that was a wizard at the same time.

"More or less," replied the latter, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head in a "so-so" motion.

"Huh...," whispered Harry as he relaxed his shoulders from the brief excitement. Than taking a few seconds to think and then out loud, "Well...If you plan to enroll at Hogwarts, you better do it soon. Term starts in a couple of days."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," said the youth. He paused in mid-thought as he observed Harry's appearance, measuring him up. The deep blue eyes came to rest upon a certain feature that stood out amongst everything upon the boy's face. An oddly shaped scar almost hidden by those unruly brown bangs.

Harry immediately realized what the stranger was staring at. He half prayed, half hoped, that this guy wouldn't make a scene about his lightning shaped scar like everyone else did. Too many people would get excited or praise the sight of the famous Harry Potter. He found it quite annoying and extremely embarrassing if the wizard bowed or asked for a group picture...or something like that...

The mysterious youth titled his head to the side slightly and lifted a hand to point in the general direction of the scar. "How did you get that scar?" he asked, with a faint tone of awe.

'Wow, didn't see that one coming!' thought Harry sarcastically and mentally rolled his eyes. "...It's a long story...I'd rather not say." To emphasize that command, he waved a hand in the air to dismiss further questions on the matter. For a fraction of a second there, Harry got the notion like he was advising a guard or counselor to stand down.

"Oh, I see...," said the youth in a soft spoken, gentler, sympathetic tone. "Well...please forgive me for intruding." The hood bowed his head, weighing in the possible tragic scenarios in his mind. From the way the boy expressed his answer, the body language and quick denial, made it plainly obvious that the story behind the scar was painful and personal.

The sudden sound of worn out leather shoes scuffling towards them, prevented any more questions that the youth may have had for Harry. Cerulean orbs flickered over to the elderly shop keeper, eyeing the staff and the dark narrow box in hand. Mr. Ollivander straightened his posture and put on his signature warm smile as he took up his place behind the counter, once again. "Hullo, again! Sorry that I took so long. Finding a wand crafted out of material as rare as your staff here, is a hard find, young sir." He lifted and placed the staff upon the desk, then presented the little box to the mysterious youth before him.

The latter stared at the box for a bit, then reached out with a gloved hand and took the offering. With the other hand, he pulled away part of the ashen hued cloak and neatly deposited the box into the nearest chest pocket. "How much does your service cost here, Mr. Ollivander?" asked the stranger as he shifted his grip over to the other side of his jacket to reach for his wallet. He soon produced a nearly foot long, rectangular shaped, black leather thing that folded over like a book. The youth flipped it open upon his open palm to reveal rows of little slits stuffed with dollar pills on one side, and the other with coins used in the wizarding world. The only other time that Harry had seen a wallet like that, were of the rich, like Lucius Malfoy.

"Aren't you going to check the contents?!" asked the shop keeper, incredulously.

Blue eyes met the silvery ones, looking up from his wallet and grinned beneath the shadows. "No, I believe that isn't necessary. I trust you made the right choice. On the other hand, if you hadn't, I would most likely come back to haunt you, sir." The youth softly chuckled at his little joke to which the younger wizards did not get right away. He rolled his eyes at this, than asked the elderly shop keeper once more, "How much is service here?"

Mr. Ollivander just stared at the young man in bewilderment before he too, began to laugh at the comment. 'Like that'll ever happen!' he thought to himself. Then out loud to his customer in waiting, "That'll be seven galleons, young sir. In muggle terms, that would've cost you $51.31!"

"I assumed as much...," replied the latter as his gloved fingers shifted through the slits, counting up and removing the right amount of gold coins known as galleons to this world. He weighed the money in his hand, thinking something over in his mind as he studied the glitter of the coins. Suddenly, the youth closed his palm and used two fingers to remove three silver, sickles out along with the numerous amount already there. He stretched his arm out towards the clerk and slowly dumped the payment into the awaiting hand. Mr. Ollivander quickly calculated the amount there and before he could interject, the youth said to him, "I'm quite aware that that's too much there, but it's the least I could do to repay you for the trouble of my task."

Mr. Ollivander smiled warmly and nodded his head gleefully at this new found tip. "Thank you, sir! Thank you, kind, young sir! It's not everyday that I get to meet kids as kind as you!" He bowed and then made his way over to the cash register machine to deposit the money.

While the elder was busy with that, the mysterious youth picked up his wizard's staff with care and stood it on end before him. "Lanta kaima, Ita'istar...," he softly whispered to it. Once more, the golden inscription glowed brightly and the tall form of the staff seemed to melt away, shimmer, back into the stubby, yet massive thing that Harry had mistaken for a wand earlier.

The youth held the now portable version of his staff in his left hand, as his right shifted down to his side to shove away some of his dark cloak over his belt. He looked down at the belt loop and slipped the wand into it as if he were re-sheathing a sword. The stranger grabbed the side of his cloak to shift it outwards and place it back over his side, but that was not before Harry caught a quick glimpse of a metallic colored hilt.

Harry's eyes narrowed at the curious sight in thought and then quickly turned his attention back over to the pile of narrow wand boxes before the stranger noticed him staring. 'A metal hilt...," thought Harry, trying to make a connection. All of a sudden, it clicked and a light of thought came to mind. 'Bloody hell, it's a sword!' He quickly looked over at the youth from the corner of his eyes before returning back to his theory. "A sword...but...but what would he need it for...?"

Just as Harry's mind was recalling what the hilt looked like, someone said, "Pardon the interruption, young one, but what's your name?" Harry's head snapped up and looked about for the owner of the voice. A wave of a gloved hand near his face, got his attention to the youth. "My name?" he asked. The hood of the stranger nodded gently. "Harry. Harry Potter."

The mysterious youth smiled and held out a hand towards Harry. "Nice to meet you, Harry Potter," he said. The boy looked at his hand, hesitated, and than shook it. During that short time of contact, deep blue eyes looked right through the pools of emerald, searching for something of great importance. Once he found what he looking for, the youth concentrated a little harder which caused Harry's eyes to flicker an eerie green for a fraction of a second. The strange glow proved to him that he had finally found the one, "him", and that the search was finally over.

As Harry placed his hand back at his side, he couldn't believe what he felt during that hand shake and brief eye contact. After he had introduced himself to the youth, the hilt...the sword's identity...had come back to him from somewhere far off in his being. For some unknown reason, he had felt angry enough to yell at the stranger. Something like, "Hey! That's my sword! Where did you find it?!" It was as if the youth had stolen something of his. This was becoming so confusing, and yet...

Suddenly, the sound of boots making the old wooden floor of the shop creak begin to fade beside him, cause reality to return back to Harry's glazed eyes. He turned his gaze towards the open door that the youth was about to go through and bring in the daylight for a short time. "Hey, wait! I didn't get your name!" said Harry urgently.

The mysterious youth paused in the doorway and slowly turned to face Harry. "It's Larsen. Just call me Larsen, for now." Then he looked past the boy over to the shop keeper and nodded curtly, "'Quel re!" The stranger turned to leave, but before he did, he said to Harry over his shoulder, "Saesa omentien lle, meloneamin...Elessar." And with that, the mysterious youth left the little shop with a flick of his large black cloak into the rain and was gone.

Harry stared out that door, utterly stupefied to the spot. A part of him was kind of scared for he actually understood that strange language that the youth said to him. 'He called me, Elessar. How did he know my old name? I have never told anyone that name nor anything about my dreams! Whatever has been going on in my head about Aragorn...has been my business. Just mine!' said Harry to himself. The other part of him that was unafraid, was in some perverse way, relieved. Relieved to know that he would see this Larsen guy again and maybe get some answers from him of questions he didn't know how to ask or could think up of.

After that excitement was over and reality rooted its way deeply into Harry's mind, he spent the next twenty minutes to half an hour testing wands again. He soon came upon a wand that was crafted of the same wood as his old wand, but was infused with the blood, tears, and scales of a dragon from long ago and whose existence was unknown, instead of a single phoenix's tail feather. Mr. Ollivander took the wand from him and inscribed Harry's initials near the rounded end of the wand with a magical feather pen. He explained to Harry that he was required to do this now with the new models and other emergencies the owner may have with the wand.

Harry agreed that was a good idea, paid for his item, and left Ollivander's to make his way down the busy pathways of Diagon Alley. Just as he was passing the joke shop, he began to worry if he should've waited at the shop for the Weasleys to come and get him. Harry had told Ron and Hermione that he would be there for a bit. Than again, he didn't feel like retracing his steps back to there. He opted to keep going towards the end of the alley near The Leaky Cauldron and assumed that the family could be found there. Besides, Mrs. Weasley spent most of her day at the book shop, half the time they were here. No less looking for Lockhart's new book. Harry would always roll his eyes at that for he couldn't believe that she was still a fan of Lockhart's after all that had happened second and fifth year.

He passed by many shops along the way, but none of them mattered enough to see what was showcasing in their display windows. Harry just couldn't stop thinking of that stranger back in the wand shop and what they said to each other. He ran their conversation over and over in his mind until Flourish and Blott's came into view, but he didn't seem to actually see the store.

Harry was about to make his way around a small crowd in front of the shop, until Ron Weasley stepped into his path and waved his hands about to get his friend's attention. "Oiye! Earth to Harry! Come back, Harry!" he said, sort of laughing at the same time too. The latter jumped and took a step back to allow his mind to re-adjust to what was going on before him. Harry's heart skipped a couple of beats as he looked frantically about to take in his surroundings. Now with a mind finally settling and coming to grips with reality, Harry noticed that the little crowd upon the border of his foggy vision were the Weasleys. They all seemed to be amused, some were smiling and the twins were laughing their heads off. It appeared to him that they had been waiting for him.

"Are you alright, Harry dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley like a concerned mother. "We were just about to send Ron after you, since I had just finished my shopping. Also, did you have enough money for your new wand?"

"Yes, I did, actually. Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," answered Harry shyly as he made his way over to the bench in front of the book store to sit down and relax his exhausted mind. He leaned the back of his head against the cool glass, and was grateful that there was an awning above his head to shield off the oncoming rain. Harry closed his eyes a bit, just to take the time to feel the cooler temperature outside today, welcoming it. Hearing the sound of splashing, moving water seemed to comfort him. Hmm...maybe the gentle patter of rain against his skin wouldn't be so bad after all...

Suddenly, he felt a warm hand against his forehead. Harry slowly opened his eyes as he looked up to see who was touching him. It was Mrs. Weasley checking his temperature. Her brows were knit with deep concern as she studied his skin coloration and temperature about his forehead. Just when Harry was getting the notion to swat her hand away, she stopped and stood back a bit. "You don't seem to have any signs of a fever, deary. But, I think it would be best if we all get you home to warm you up and get you to bed soon. Don't want you to get sick before the new school year starts and have to miss school for it!" Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly and patted his shoulder, "Get up, Harry dear!"

Harry got up slowly from his spot and thought that sleep did seem appealing to his weary body. He stretched his limbs a bit as some of the Weasleys began to make their way over to the Leaky Cauldron. Ron lagged behind the crowd of his family, just enough for Harry to catch up and wait for him. Just when Harry was about to follow, he got a sinking feeling that he was being watched. He looked about at the nearby shops, street corners suspiciously, and found nothing until he turned all the way around to face the book shop.

Harry studied most of the faces and bookshelves within' the busy shop. Then his eyes widen as he noticed who was standing towards the back of the place in the historical section. The dark form of the mysterious youth, Larsen, was leaning against a book shelf, facing his direction. But, he didn't seem to be looking in Harry's direction anymore. Larsen was talking to another person dressed all in black and who was taller than both of them.

"Damn it, Harry! Hurry up!" yelled Ron impatiently. "Coming!" yelled Harry, not yet having turned his gaze away from the display window. He sighed heavily and decided that he would have to investigate this later or never again. Harry quickened his pace to catch up and match Ron's side by side. They had just managed to catch up with the rest of the Weasleys just in time as they were about to close the entrance to Diagon Alley. Once all of the bricks had clicked back into place, everyone removed their rain proof cloaks and made their way through The Leaky Cauldron, back into a bright sunny day within' the muggle world.

Sometime after Harry and the Weasleys had gone home, the mysterious youth and his companion emerged from Flourish and Blott's to take their leave. They made their way over to the brick wall that leads to The Leaky Cauldron's back entrance. The shorter one, Larsen, stepped forward and reached out with a hand to feel the texture and secrets of the passage. He bowed his head, closed his eyes, and concentrated. The youth lifted his hand slowly from the wall and began to tap it with two fingers in correct precision. Magical properties within' the wall accepted this, and shifted into an archway for the two lone rangers in waiting.

Larsen took a step to the side, in order for his companion to get by. Then he himself took a couple of steps forward and paused below the archway. The youth turned halfway around to gaze up at the cloudy skies above the alley. He took a few moments to admire the falling rain upon the stores below. Larsen breathed in the fresh air deeply, and then became very still like a statue. He seemed to be staring really hard at a section of the sky where the sun should've been able to be seen. His eyes began to glow a faint, sky blue and sliver of silver began to swirl within' those deep pools of cerulean.

As the colors swirled within' Larsen's eyes, the sky above started to clear in a few patches of gaps between monstrous clouds. The fluffy clouds saturated with water, began to bottle up their crying and the occupants below became just a bit dryer. Once the rain had slowed down to a light drizzle, Larsen blinked his eyes and allowed his body to relax. He had decided that this was far enough, good ol' mother nature could take care of the rest. Also, it wouldn't look natural if had just let the rain stop, skies clear, and the sun come out of all a sudden.

When the mysterious youth had allowed him self to relax, the bright blue within' his iris's darkened to the hue of day at twilight. The slip of silver swirled around once more until it was drained into the vast darkness, abyss of his pupils.

Larsen looked about, allowing his eyes to refocus until his surroundings were clear to him. Then, he turned around to follow in tow with his companion through the fairly innocent looking tavern. As they wound their way past long tables and drunk wizards, Larsen knew that the weather above the alley would clear soon and none would be the wiser bellow those skies. Plus, he needed to change out of this old cloak of his before they reached the front door.

The youth reached up with one hand to push down upon the leaf shaped clasp of his cloak near his neck. The neckline parted and soon the stitches in the cloth began to re-route themselves. Threads began to change directions, sections of cloth began to come apart in strange places, and soon the whole design began to change, transform. Even bits of the cloth seemed to melt away and metal buttons and zippers appeared near the edges of the newly formed leather trench coat.

Nearby, Larsen's companion had done the same, but only his was made of khaki, not leather. They both tied up their belts to close their coats, to prevent whatever they were carrying to be revealed in public. The hoods upon their heads were the last things to transform. Soon, the candle lights were able to reflect upon the lower half of their faces. The youth's companion reached the door first and twisted the knob. And as they stepped out into the mid-afternoon sunlight, the two lone rangers lifted up a hand and pulled back their hoods to feel the glorious warmth of the dying summer.

TO BE CONTINUED

Author's Note: Wow, everyone! I finally finished the first chapter to this story! dances about for joy About time too, for this chapter took me about two months to complete. That's if you count all those times that I got writer's block. laughs I really do hope that you, my readers, are all enjoying this story as much as I am writing it. I got so excited as I was wrapping up this chapter and anticipating what I got in store for you all in the next chapter. Believe me, you're going to get a kick out of and love it! . eek I will be introducing a new character from this chapter and have him become familiar in all of your eyes! I'm not going to say which one of the mysterious lone rangers it is. wink wink Omg! He's going to be so kick ass! In looks...and just about everything! clears throat Anyways and on a high note, please keep a close eye upon my two new original characters throughout the story. They are vital to the plot and what is happening to Harry, too. . one more thing before I let you all go, like I said in my old author's note at the end of this chapter, please keep coming back to check on this story. Just in case if I had added new content within' a chapter without this whole story coming up as updated on the list of misc. stories. I will be almost constantly doing that here and at kmc forums. So keep a sharp look out and I'll try my best to keep you guys up to date about my story!

Later (and see you around),

Sodapop Allerdyce

P/S: One of these days, I'm going to change my current pen name to this one above!

I would also like to thank my faithful reviewers: airangel429, Trickster, LavieraJ, Veralidaine, Christina B, miriel, Tonks, and Princess Aranel.

Translations/Terminology Log:

Lanta kaima, Ita'istar = Sleep, Illusionist (from Elven Phrases)

Bragol alaa, Ita'istar = Enlarge, Illusionist

'Quel re = Good Day

Saesa omentien lle, meloneamin...Elessar = Pleasure meeting you, my friend...Elessar (Aragorn)

Seven Galleons = $51.31; One Galleon = $7.33 (from the Harry Potter Lexicon)

Three Sickles = $1.29; One Sickle = $0.43

CHAPTER TWO: A WINDOW'S VIEW (SPOILER – TURN BACK IF YOU REALLY DON'T WANT TO KNOW!):

There's always something special going on or about to happen on the first day of school in the wizarding world for a boy named Harry Potter. A new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts arrives, his true identity and nature surrounded by great mystery. Harry observes him on the way to school and during the Sorting Hat Ceremony and wonders: Does he post any danger to anyone? (Especially him?) Only time will tell as Harry sits through classes taught by this stranger.