Author's Notes: I just wanted to let you all know that in this second chapter some things are explained and others not. You see, the explosion in last chapter caused two worlds to merge and so things are a bit different here. If anything seems weird, people not where they should be or things not how they really happened, that's why. Also, for those of you who never read the Drizzt series, every chapter will feature footnotes at the bottom for words or phrases not really associated with Harry Potter. All disclaimers are in the first chapter. Thank you.
Chapter 2: The Drow Elf
Harry Potter was sitting at the Gryffindor table, under a gloomy, dark sky, next to Ronald Weasley. After having been underfed all summer at his relatives', the Dursleys, house, he was starved when he arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was shoveling food into his waiting mouth while he listened to Ron tell him about how much he hated Draco Malfoy. The boy could be an absolute prat when he wanted to. When he tried especially hard, he made Harry and his friends' lives miserable. Earlier on the Hogwarts Express, Malfoy had played a cruel prank on Ron, using a charm to turn one of his Cauldron Cakes into a rather large spider. Ron was deathly afraid of spiders and due to a leakage of information, most likely courtesy of Fred and George Weasley—Ron's older, twin brothers—everyone in the whole school knew it now.
"You know, someone ought to pound him good," Ron was saying as Hermione Granger, sitting across from them, made disapproving sounds in her throat. Ron was about to tell her off when the doors of the Great Hall were flung open with a slam. Nearly simultaneously, four hundred seventy-eight heads, students' and professors' alike, turned to see what the commotion was about. As well, four hundred seventy-eight sets of eyes saw Dormir Warmaker, the dwarven caretaker of Hogwarts, running into the room. A silence fell thick in the Hall, every eye trained on Dormir's labored steps as he sprinted as fast as his stubby, short little legs would carry him. Skidding to a stop in front of the professors' table, he leaned across it, whispering frantically to Headmaster Dumbledore. The eyes of the two professors on either side of Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick, grew wider with every word spoken by the caretaker. Harry watched just as intently as everyone else did, but he continued throwing food down his throat, stopping two times to down some pumpkin juice.
Everyone watched anxiously as Professor Dumbledore whispered something to Professor McGonagall, who ran down to the end of the table and said something to the half-giant groundskeeper, Hagrid. The two of them then hurried out of the Hall. Dumbledore then leaned around Professor Flitwick and said something to another of the professors, a halfling, whom Harry didn't recognize and supposed was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Ron turned to him with a puzzled look and mouthed, "What's going on?" Harry merely shrugged and took another swig of pumpkin juice, finishing it off. He glanced at Hermione who was watching Dormir intently with a worried expression on her face. He knew she must have been thinking that something terrible was happening or had happened. Professor Dumbledore simply went back to his meal. After the students had realized that the headmaster wasn't going to say anything about the news Dormir had brought, they began to chatter noisily, speculating over what may or may not have happened.
Once Dumbledore had finished his meal, he pushed his plate away from him and stood. Immediately silence fell over the Great Hall once again as students from every table impatiently awaited either news of what Dormir had brought or Dumbledore's annual welcome speech. Dormir had already gone, probably to do his job, much to Hermione's distress. "As I'm sure you are all very anxious to know," Dumbledore began, looking at them all down his crooked nose, "Dormir Warmaker, our caretaker, brought me some rather distressing news a few moments ago." Here he paused and Harry could've sworn he'd given himself a pointed look. "An unconscious drow elf has been discovered on the third floor." Suddenly, there was a sharp intake of breath, not quite a gasp, from every person in the Hall. Dumbledore paused again to allow the excited chatter that ensued to die down. "You are to go directly to your House as a whole and led by your House Heads. Gryffindor, with your House Head on an errand, Professor Flitwick will escort you to your House. Any student caught deviating from these instructions will face expulsion." With that, Dumbledore swept out of the Great Hall, the Divination teacher, Azul Sobre, and elf, on his heels. Moments later, Professor Snape spoke softly to the professor beside him and then followed Azul.
A few moments later, the Great Hall was buzzing again with excited speculation about this new development and was quickly quieted by the Heads of House as they filed their charges from the room by table. Harry noticed that Professor Sprout, the woman Snape had spoken to, was leading Slytherin. Gryffindor was the last house out of the Hall with the little Charms professor leading the way to Gryffindor Tower. Upon arriving at the portrait of the fat lady that guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, Professor Flitwick whispered something to Lee Jordan, who nodded, and then hurried off down the corridor. Once Professor Flitwick was out of sight, Lee politely woke the fat lady who beamed down at him as she rubbed her eyes sleepily. "Chocolate frogs," Lee said and the portrait swung open to reveal a hole leading into the Gryffindor common room. Harry was reminded vaguely of Professor Dumbledore's fondness of using the names of sweets as passwords to his personal office and quarters. Slowly, the House began to file into the common room, one by one.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last ones into the common room, aside from the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. They were greeted by the sound of chattering Gryffindors, all talking about the drow, and they found Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom already waiting for them in their usual comfy, red, velvet-covered chairs by the fireplace. The two of them seemed to be whispering fervently with each other. Harry guessed that they, like everyone else, were talking about the drow. However, instead of consulting the new arrival about Dumbledore's shocking news, Ginny and Neville ceased talking when the three sat down, blushing insanely. Hermione eyed the two suspiciously for a moment and had opened her mouth to say something when they heard a thickly Irish-accented and familiar voice.
"What do you mates think about that monster being loose in the school?" Seamus Finnigan asked as he strolled toward Harry and friends, Dean Thomas on his heels.
"I assume that you are talking about the drow," Hermione said coldly. She hadn't quite forgiven Dean and Seamus for a prank that they had played on her during their fifth year at Hogwarts. Seamus chuckled at her tone.
"Yeah, that's him," Dean replied. "I just hope my parents don't find out. They'll pull me out of here so fast…" He let the unfinished sentence hang in the air, nearly tangible.
"How can they not?" Harry asked sarcastically. "The bloody Daily Prophet has a way of finding these things out and embellishing them greatly." Hermione nodded her agreement.
"Tomorrow morning the whole world will know about how a Dark Elf snuck into the castle and attacked and killed or injured half of the students."
"But nobody was…" Ron started to say before he realized that Hermione had been using sarcasm as well. He flushed a vibrant red and lowered his eyes to the floor in embarrassment. Hermione turned a suspicious gaze once again upon Neville and Ginny.
"You two have been awfully quiet. What are your thoughts on this whole ordeal?" She reminded Harry of a psychology doctor that Aunt Petunia seemed to be madly in love with.
"Well," Neville glanced at Ginny for reassurance, and she nodded, "Ginny and I just wonder how dangerous this drow really is." He seemed embarrassed by his own brevity and looked at Ginny again, who nodded once more and smiled at him.
"What?!" Ron exploded suddenly, a look of sheer terror painted on his face, like a grotesque mask. "How can you…I mean, think of all of the raids they have made on the surface! Think of all the stories mum and dad have told us about the drow!"
"But that's just it, Ron," Ginny stated calmly. "They were stories. Have you ever met a Drow? Have you ever seen one of those alleged raids? Have you ever seen a dark elf slaughter dozens of innocents for the sheer sport of it? I don't think you have, else your head would be so big that you wouldn't fit in the Great Hall for the fact that you'd seen a feared black elf and lived to tell!" Ron shook with rage and indignation at this humiliation from his own younger sister, the tips of his ears heating and turning a bright scarlet. Harry now understood why the two had wanted to keep this a secret—to avoid an outburst like this. Frankly, he thought that they probably weren't too far off the mark on this one.
"You can't tell me that you truly believe…" he growled, but Harry cut him off.
"Wait a sec, Ron. Ginny makes a lot of sense." Ron stared at Harry incredulously for a few moments before his eyes narrowed and he began to glare at Harry hotly. "Oh, don't look at me like that. Seriously, what would a legendary drow elf be doing at Hogwarts, and laying unconscious in the middle of a third floor corridor at that!" The common room suddenly seemed very quiet as every ear trained on the small group near the fire.
"I don't care what a drow was doing at Hogwarts!" Ron shouted unnecessarily. "I don't care why it's here, why it was unconscious, or whether or not it intends to hurt us! It's a bloody dark elf and the professors should kill it before it has a chance to kill us!" A murmur of agreement, no matter how tense and forced it seemed, ran through the other Gryffindors in the common room as Professor McGonagall burst through the portrait hole.
"What's all this screaming going on?" she demanded as she glared around the room over the top of her spectacles. She looked as if she'd just been slipped some bitter pumpkin juice and needed to take out her frustration on the side of some student or another's head.
"Oh, it was nothing Professor," George Weasley said smoothly, covering for his little brother, Ron.
"Yeah," Fred chimed in, "Ron and Harry were just having a bit of a row's all. Nothing to worry about." Professor McGonagall didn't seem quite satisfied with this answer, but she gave a resigned sigh and addressed Ron and Harry.
"Well Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter…please keep it down." Addressing the rest of the Gryffindors, she said, "I've come to tell you all that the headmaster has already handled the situation with the drow. You can all rest assured that no danger will come to you." She surveyed the room wearily and then swept back out of the portrait hole.
For several, long minutes after Professor McGonagall's departure, the common room was nearly silent with the only sounds coming from the crackling fire, ablaze in the fireplace. Harry had never understood why, but that fire was always roaring, even during the hotter months. Finally Dean Thomas broke the silence with a rather large yawn. "Well, I think I'm going to head to bed," he mumbled, trying to suppress his yawn.
"Me too, you mates coming?" Seamus asked Harry, Ron and Neville. He too lifted a hand to his mouth to stifle a gigantic yawn.
"I think I will as well. I'm pretty tired. It's nearly eleven o'clock already," Neville replied. He climbed to his feet sluggishly, giving Ginny a look of thanks for helping him confront Ron with their shared beliefs. Ron merely remained silent, still fuming and Harry shook his head slightly as he stared into the flames in the hearth, mesmerized by their uniquely beautiful dance. Slowly the trio made its way up to the boys' dormitory. It wasn't until they'd disappeared up the stairs that nervous chatter began to break out all over the common room. No one knew what to talk about, however, after Ron's outburst and the news that the situation was under control. Ginny and Hermione took up a conversation over what courses they were both taking this year. Ginny seemed a bit nervous about her O.W.L.s this year, but Hermione assured her that as long as she studied, she'd be right as rain. Harry didn't hear anything for the fact that he was staring so intently into the fire. Nor did he hear Ron tell him that he was going to bed. Harry knew that he would have another nightmare tonight, most likely about Lord Voldemort, the man he had vowed to kill. Yet, he had a distinct, insistent feeling that this nightmare would have something to do with a drow elf.
A couple of hours later, Harry looked away from the fire to find that he was alone in the common room. He suddenly realized how tired he was and pulled himself out of the chair with a vague longing to stay and sleep in the chair. Slowly, he climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory and entered the room he was sharing with Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville. He didn't bother with his clothes but merely threw himself into bed without undressing. He lay awake for a few minutes, listening to the snores and rhythmic breathing of his dorm mates. Then he too drifted off into the world of slumber.
When Drizzt awoke he found he was lying on a cold, marble floor on his back. As the last thing he'd seen was Guenhwyvar pushed into the Time Pool, his first thought was of her safety. He jumped to his feet, his hand going to his belt pouch. However, his pouch was gone, as were his scimitars and hidden knives and daggers. As his eyes darted around, a mountain of a man grabbed him and forced his hands behind his back. At the same time, a rather tall, elderly woman pointed a long, slender wand at his wrists and they were instantly bound together tightly. She did the same to his ankles and the big man set him on the floor, leaning against the wall.
"Well, what do we do now?" the man asked his companion in a gruff voice.
"We wait," she replied, eyeing Drizzt warily. "Albus told us to wait for his arrival." Drizzt's head was reeling. Guenhwyvar and his weapons were gone, he was being restrained by a man large enough to seem a giant and a mage, and he was in a place that reminded him vaguely of the Hosttower of the Arcane1 in Luskan2. Drizzt studied his captors complacently, returning their fear-filled glares with warm smiles. He knew the reason that he was in captivity. He had faced rejection due to the color of his skin ever since he had left the Menzoberranzan3 and the Underdark4 to go to the surface. No one ever took the time to get to know him. They merely assumed that he had come to kill them. Every time he smiled at his captors, they started and inched backward slowly. Finally, he decided to try speaking to them.
"Hello," Drizzt said clearly, "I am Drizzt Do'Urden. Might you be able to tell me where I am?" If they'd been sacred by his smiles, they seemed terrified now. The big man—a barbarian like Wulfgar, Drizzt had decided—raised his fists as if to fight Drizzt and the woman, seemingly a mage, raised her wand slightly. She was muttering what Drizzt supposed was a spell when a voice called out from down the hallway, thick with age and wisdom. All three heads snapped around toward the voice. Drizzt saw a man with a long white beard, wearing light blue mage's robes. He was followed closely by two others in robes, one a human and one an elf, while the third was a dwarf in commoner's clothing. Drizzt felt something drop into the pit of his stomach, sure that this was the end of him with three magical people around and his arms and legs bound as they were.
"Minerva, stop it!" the man in the light blue robes called.
"But, Albus," the woman stammered belligerently, her wand still half-raised to cast a spell on Drizzt, "it said…"
"Well, from what I heard, he said hello," Albus replied smoothly and calmly as he strolled up to Drizzt with an air of complete confidence. He took a wand from the inside of his robes and waved it in the air quickly, releasing Drizzt from his magical bonds. All of the others gasped at Albus' brazen act of courage. Drizzt sat stock-still, not quite sure if this was a test or if he could really stand and be equal with these mages.
"Headmaster," a tall slender man with black, slicked-back hair said, "perhaps we should call to Silverymoon5 for Lady Alustriel6 or to Citadel Adbar7 for King Harbromme8. I'm sure they would know how to handle this. However, I think that you should put the thing back into its bonds."
"I appreciate your concern, Severus," Albus replied without taking his eyes off of Drizzt, "but I am confident that Lady Alustriel need not be bothered. In fact, you'll find that we are in no danger from Mr. Do'Urden here." Drizzt was so deep in thought at the mention of Silverymoon and Lady Alustriel that he didn't register Albus' last words. If they called for Lady Alustriel, everything would be okay. She knew that Drizzt was no passionless murderer like his people9. She knew that he had a good heart and would never harm anyone unless they intended to harm another for no reason. Perhaps she'd be able to convince these people of his innocence. When he finally came back to reality, Albus' hand was outstretched to him and a wide smile was painted on his face. Drizzt tentatively took the hand and pulled himself to his feet.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Drizzt Do'Urden. I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Drizzt nodded solemnly, hardly able to believe that this man was being nice to him. For once, with no questions asked, someone was treating him as an equal, not as a monster like most, or a great piece of nature to be studied, like the Harpells10 in Longsaddle11. Slowly Dumbledore pointed around the circle of people, introducing everyone to Drizzt. "This is Hagrid, the groundskeeper, Minerva McGonagall the Transfiguration professor, Severus Snape the Potions Master, Azul Sobre the Divination professor, and Dormir Warmaker the caretaker." Drizzt noted the way that Dormir cowered from him behind Severus and the way that Azul glared at him with millennia of hatred. He knew that that would be one wall that would be impossible to tear down.
"Greetings Headmaster Albus Dumbledore," Drizzt smiled again. "I am Drizzt Do'Urden. Could you possibly tell me how I have come to be here at your fine institute of mages?" Dumbledore chuckled slightly, shaking his head in amusement. Behind him, the man he had identified as Severus Snape began to sneer in what Drizzt assumed was rage at his unwitting insulting question. Perplexed, Drizzt looked to Dumbledore, expecting an explanation to be forthcoming.
"No, no, no," Dumbledore chuckled still, "we are not mages. We are wizards and witches." Drizzt was quite confused. He hadn't been aware that there was a difference between the two classifications. A man or woman that could use magic was a mage to him, all the same.
"Is there a difference?" Drizzt asked sincerely. Everyone around him gasped in horror as if he'd called them all a lot of orc-friends and goblin-lovers. Dumbledore merely smiled understandingly, but Severus could not hold his absolute rage in check any longer.
"Headmaster, is this monster to be allowed to make such slanderous statements? We are nothing like the honorless cowards that call themselves mages!12" His face was beginning to turn a fair shade of crimson, reminding Drizzt of Bruenor in a temper. His fists were clenched into whiteness as he glared nearly as much hatred at him as Azul. Suddenly there was a rush of noise from all around. It was a sound like hundreds of chattering people and hundreds of feet marching through the halls.
"That will be the students," Dumbledore proclaimed. "They've been sent straight to their Houses, what with the danger of a drow on the loose." He smiled at Drizzt to let him know that he meant no offense in the remark, then turned to Severus. "Severus, please don't call our guest a monster. He has feelings just the same as the rest of us." Drizzt could hardly believe his ears. All his life he'd been shunned and outcasted, and yet twice in one day, a man had defended him knowing nothing more than his race and his name. Azul opened her mouth and then shut it, and then opened it again. She gaped at Dumbledore, her eyes darting back and forth between him and Drizzt as if she wanted to say something.
"Gue…guest? Headmaster, surely you can't be…a guest! After all of the things that his kind have done, he's a guest here?!" Azul seemed as if she were about to slap Dumbledore and faint at the same time.
"Quite right, Azul. He is our guest. Now then Drizzt, if you will kindly follow me, we will go to a more private place where we can talk." Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle gaily as he spoke. "I'm sure the rest of you have something or other that you could be attending to. Minerva, if you will accompany me to my office? And Hagrid, please return Drizzt's possessions to him." The large man regarded the headmaster as if he were a madman for a few moments before finally reaching into his coat and producing Drizzt's scimitars, Twinkle and Icingdeath, his belt pouch, two daggers and several throwing knives. He tossed them to the ground at Drizzt's feet—not wanting to get close enough to hand them to him—who wasted no time in scooping them up and placing them back where they belonged. Suddenly remembering Guenhwyvar, his hand shot into his recovered belt pouch, floundering for the small figurine. His heart sank when the search proved fruitless.
Hagrid's face lit up in realization as he remembered something. He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, black figurine of a panther and held it out to Drizzt reluctantly. "I foun' this on th' floor over yonder," he said slowly, jerking a thumb back down the corridor. "Figured th' thing migh' be yours." Drizzt took the figurine from Hagrid, holding it delicately in the palm of his black, slender hand as he thanked the big man heartily. His soul was soaring with relief at having Guenhwyvar returned to him. In a rush of gratitude, he thrust his hand at Hagrid, who took it in a rather forced and tense handshake. As Drizzt let Dumbledore lead him away, he could feel the gaze of the others on his back. Most of them, he knew, were hateful. However, he thought he saw a little of something like Bruenor and Wulfgar in Hagrid. Perhaps if he prodded the right places he could provoke a friendship with the big man. Yet, he knew that he wouldn't for the fact that he planned to begin searching for his friends as soon as he could. He wondered if perhaps Dumbledore would know of the quartet of companions and decided to inquire about the matter when he got the chance.
The walk to Dumbledore's office was short enough, taking only about five minutes. Drizzt stared in wonderment at the moving staircases that they descended. He'd not seen something like this in all his life. The Hosttower would be hard-pressed to produce something of this grandeur. When Dumbledore stopped in front of a stone gargoyle statue, Drizzt's eyes darted around, looking for a door. When he didn't find one, he figured that perhaps Dumbledore had just stopped to rest for a few moments. After all the man looked as if he were well over one hundred and he may need to rest his old bones. Imagine his surprise when Dumbledore stated "Whatchamacallit!" and the stone gargoyle jumped aside to reveal a doorway leading to a moving, spiral staircase. Without another word, Dumbledore climbed onto the stairs, Drizzt and McGonagall following, and was whisked to the top to his office door.
The trio entered the headmaster's office and again Drizzt was amazed. He had never seen such a collection of magical items. On one shelf of a cabinet he saw a bowl made of silver. When he looked into it, he saw several swirling images, some of which cleared to the point of viewable, others that flashed and were gone. On a stand near the door perched a small golden-and-red-feathered bird of some sort, grandly beautiful. He studied the fascinating creature with great interest, watching its head movements and wings as it studied him in return. After several long moments, Dumbledore cleared his throat softly to regain Drizzt's attention.
"I see you've met Fawks, my phoenix," Dumbledore said. Drizzt suddenly remembered where he was and turned to face Dumbledore and McGonagall. The latter regarded him rather fearfully despite Dumbledore's apparent ease.
"Please have a seat, Drizzt Do'Urden," Dumbledore said politely, indicating a chair before his desk. Drizzt heaved a heavy sigh and plopped into the color-shifting chair the headmaster had offered.
"Call me Drizzt," Drizzt answered dully, suddenly feeling very tired. He didn't know why, but his entire body felt drained of all energy. He wanted nothing more than to lie down right then and there and sleep for a week. If only he could just doze off for a bit.
"Very well, Drizzt," Dumbledore replied with a smile. McGonagall started fidgeting nervously in her chair, but she stopped when Dumbledore gave her a pointed look. Turning his attention back to Drizzt, he said, "You look weary. Have your travels perhaps drained you?"
"Well," Drizzt started, for the first time since awakening in this strange place having to confront the question of how he got here, "I'm not entirely sure I had travels. The last thing I remember was that my friends and I were fighting a…" He stopped speaking as he suddenly remembered his friends. Inside he was struggling with the thought that Bruenor and the other may have been killed in the explosion. Dumbledore regarded Drizzt stoically, saying nothing and most likely guessing what had happened—or a version of the truth anyway. McGonagall looked as if she had guessed the truth of it too and hung her head, merely looking at the floor in complete silence.
"I'm sorry," Drizzt finally whispered. "I'm just not sure if my friends are still alive or not."
"I understand," Dumbledore replied solemnly. "If you'd rather not speak of it, I have a spell that will allow me to read your mind after a fashion. It will force memories upon you that you may not wish to have brought to the surface, but I can perhaps sort this out for you." Drizzt sat stock-still, staring into Dumbledore's clear, blue eyes, regarding him cautiously. "Of course," Dumbledore assured him, "I would not do so without your permission." He continued to star at Drizzt for a few tense moments before Drizzt spoke.
"Okay, do as you will. Even if it does prove rather unpleasant, perhaps I will get some answers." Dumbledore nodded and produced a wand from his robes. Pointing the wand at Drizzt, he muttered an incantation and a bolt of what Drizzt assumed was lightning shot out at him. His first instinct was to dive aside and avoid the deadly looking thing. Yet, he found that he had complete faith in the man for his kindness thus far. As the bolt approached, time seemed to slow and Drizzt closed his eyes, serenely waiting for what was to come. He knew that some of his old memories of Menzoberranzan would surface, but he'd not expected what next he saw. It seemed as though he were living the last eighty years of his life in its entirety in a matter of minutes. He saw his childhood, his first meeting with Guenhwyvar13, and several others. One memory stopped his heart's pumping momentarily. The memory of his father Zaknafein14 falling into a pool of acid suddenly surfaced before his eyes. That had been the last time he had seen his father. The memories continued to flow. He saw Mooshie15 and heard that damning word from so long ago, "Drizzit!16" Next, he saw his meeting with Cattie-brie, Bruenor, Wulfgar, and Regis. He saw his battle with Akar Kessel17, his rival Artemis Entreri18, his adventures with his friends, and the many times they had saved him. All of this was laid out before him, seemingly tangible, and was gone in seconds. Then came the memories that Dumbledore was looking for. Drizzt saw for a second time the battle with the monster that may have killed his friends. The last thing he saw was Guenhwyvar flying into that Time Pool and then that intense light.
Drizzt's eyes popped open and he found that he was on his hands and knees on the floor, with McGonagall supporting him. He had a vague thought that it must have been her natural care for every living thing that had roused her to his side. He looked into her face and saw that she was sincerely concerned for his well-being, and he reached up to pat her hand in thanks. This movement seemed to remind McGonagall of her fear of the hated black elf and she drew back with a horrified look. Drizzt gave a sigh of resigned acceptance of this treatment and pulled himself to his feet. He expected to see Dumbledore sitting in his chair rigidly, face white and blood-drained from what he had seen in Drizzt's memories of Menzoberranzan. What he saw instead was a very calm Dumbledore, gazing down his crooked nose at Drizzt and stroking his long, white beard thoughtfully.
Drizzt dragged himself back into the color-shifting chair slowly and sat with his head in his hands for several long minutes. When at last he looked back to Dumbledore, he found the man sitting in the same spot, his expression unchanged. Drizzt glanced at McGonagall quickly and saw her sitting quite still. She sat straight-backed with her right hand, the one Drizzt had touched, palm up on her lap. Her eyes were shut tightly and the only movement about her was her lips moving silently as she muttered something so softly that not even Drizzt's keen drow's ears could make it out. Suddenly he was very angry with these two.
"Well?" Drizzt said with as much contempt as he dared. He appreciated Dumbledore's kindness toward him, but he was quite aggravated at having been put through what he had just experienced without receiving answers in return.
"You are quite the fighter, Drizzt," Dumbledore replied smoothly. "I'm sure it is something to see outside of your memories." Drizzt felt his hands clench into fists at this remark. He was a good fighter? Of course he was a good fighter! He excelled in the task! How else would he have been able to survive all those years in the Underdark? But that had nothing to do with what he wanted to know! He waited rather impatiently for a few moments, his teeth nearly gnashing. He was expecting more from the other, but it didn't come. Finally, Drizzt spoke, not being able to hold out any longer.
"That's not what I meant!" Drizzt said forcefully, not caring that his irritation and anger were evident in his tone. "Did you discover anything that may have given you an indication of why I'm here and where my friends are or not?"
"Ah, yes of course," Dumbledore replied smoothly, completely unconcerned by Drizzt's outburst. "From what I've seen I'd say that somehow your world merged with ours." McGonagall made a small sound and then fell silent again. "If my guess is correct, then there is another plane of existence out there somewhere that is your world minus a drow, two humans, a dwarf, a halfling, and a magical panther. A fascinating creature, that. Would you perhaps like to show her to me?" Drizzt was taken aback slightly at this. So his friends were here somewhere, but where? He reached into his belt pouch slowly and produced the figurine of the panther and placed it on the desk.
"Could you call her for me to see?" Dumbledore asked anxiously. Drizzt could see that he was excited. He seemed as a little boy about to receive a wondrous gift.
"I will in a moment, but how did our worlds merge? And if just my friends and I were thrown into your world, how do you all know of Lady Alustriel? She is from my world." Drizzt was very confused by all this. He was not even sure that he would understand when given an explanation. McGonagall gasped suddenly and exclaimed loudly.
"You dare to speak the Lady Alustriel's name? You are an evil creature with no such privileges!" she shrieked in indignation.
"Minerva," Dumbledore warned and she quieted yet again. "Now then, Drizzt, about how it happened. I imagine that some of Guenhwyvar's magical traits reacted oddly with that Time Pool, causing it to explode and merge our worlds. As for how we know of Lady Alustriel, it is quite simple. Just as there is a plane of existence out there that you call your world, so too is ours elsewhere. Though, I doubt that anything is missing from ours." Noticing the befuddled look on Drizzt's face he continued. "Allow me to explain this more fully. You see, when Guenhwyvar was pushed into that Time Pool by Aegis-Fang, it caused something to go off and this world was created. It would seem that things from both worlds were brought into this one. It is my belief that my own plane originally had no such creatures as orcs, gnolls19, or goblins. As well, you may find certain persons here that you know but do not recognize you, perhaps that Artemis Entreri fellow. He's a right nasty one, eh?" Drizzt thought he understood somewhat, but there were still a few questions nagging at him.
"If that's true, then how am I able to remember everything from my original plane, and know nothing of this one?"
"That I am not sure of. In fact, your guess is as good as mine on that matter." Dumbledore gave a slight shrug and his eyes darted to the small figurine on the edge of his desk. Drizzt noticed this and knew that he wanted to see Guenhwyvar, but Drizzt wasn't quite satisfied just yet.
"One more question, and then I'll call Guen," Drizzt said. Dumbledore nodded and Drizzt drew a deep breath then asked, "How do you know all of this if you had no prior knowledge of me, or my plane or anything outside of this plane? How would you know what caused this or that some people here may not recognize me though I know them clearly as enemy or friend?" Dumbledore smiled warmly.
"A lucky guess perhaps? Though it would probably rest more squarely on the fact that I have taken courses in such things, if not your particular case." Again, his eyes darted to the figure on his desk.
"All right," Drizzt answered the unspoken request, "I'll call Guen now." He took the panther statuette from the desktop and set it down on the spacious floor of the office, silently calling across the planes to Guenhwyvar in her Astral home. He waited patiently as that familiar mist-like smoke rose around the office. He noticed Dumbledore's eyes wide with anticipation and McGonagall's with horror. Several seconds passed and when the smoke finally cleared, all that was to be seen was the small statue standing on the floor in the same position that Drizzt had placed it in. Drizzt felt as if someone had just dropped a large boulder into the pit of his stomach. For one of the first and few times in his life, Drizzt felt tears forming in his eyes. He'd been afraid of this. He knew it had been rather hopeless to try and call Guen, but he had fooled himself into thinking she hadn't been killed.
"I was afraid of this," Dumbledore sighed heavily. Drizzt merely glanced at him angrily. His best friend was dead and this man acted as if her life were less important than his opportunity to study her. He was reminded of the Harpells in Longsaddle who had, despite their acceptance, made Drizzt feel just as much the outcast with their questions and studies as had everyone who had ever turned on Drizzt because of the color of his skin. "I have some good news and some bad news," Dumbledore said to him after a few moments of silent pondering. McGonagall, though relieved that she would not have to meet whatever would have come from that figurine, looked as if she at least held sympathy for Drizzt, if nothing else in the way of compassion. "Which do you want first?" Dumbledore asked. Drizzt didn't care. Whatever the man considered good news certainly could not hearten the drow now that Guenhwyvar was dead. When he said nothing, Dumbledore continued.
"If my assumption is correct, the good news is that Guenhwyvar is still alive." Drizzt's head snapped up so fast that he wouldn't be surprised had he hurt his neck. Guen was still alive? "The bad news," Dumbledore continued before Drizzt could get a word in, "is that there is no telling where she is. When the worlds merged, Guenhwyvar's home, the Astral Plane20, merged with it. Now, I'm only guessing, but I believe Guenhwyvar is out there somewhere in this world, searching for you." Drizzt felt a renewed surge of hope. Guen was alive somewhere, as were his friends. He had to get to searching right away. Standing, he grabbed the small statue by his feet and headed for the door, speaking as he went.
"I thank you for the answers that you have given me and for your generosity," he said without looking back at Dumbledore. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a few golden coins, tossing them onto a short stand by the door. "However, I must be off now. If everything that you have told me is true, then my friends are out there somewhere and I have to find them." He reached out for the knob of the door and was suddenly back in the color-shifting chair. Dumbledore smiled warmly at him for about the hundredth time since he had met the man.
"I'm sorry, Drizzt, but I cannot allow you to leave just yet. As you know, I saw into your memories and glimpsed your ability to fight. I have a request of you." Drizzt merely stared at him, growing angry again. While he sat here listening to this man speak, his friends were wandering around out there. Perhaps they were in danger. Reading the expression on Drizzt's face, Dumbledore reassured him. "I'll have a search party sent to find your friends first thing tomorrow morning." Drizzt stared at him a bit longer and then nodded, succumbing to the logic of the promise. Dumbledore began to speak again, having calmed Drizzt's mind. "Now, your skills with the blades that you wear are like nothing that can been seen in these parts. There is only one man that I have ever seen who could fight as you do. His name is Tom Riddle, but he calls himself Lord Voldemort. You see, Tom was killed years ago by a boy called Harry Potter. When Tom tried to kill Harry, the curse rebounded and killed him instead, marking Harry with a lightning scar on his forehead. Yet, two years ago, Voldemort was reincarnated, and now he gathers more strength with each passing day. Information coming from our spies and our agents tells us that he gathers an army even as we speak. As of the last report brought to me yesterday, his numbers are more than one thousand of orcs, goblins, gnolls, and all such vile creatures. Within the month, his numbers are expected to be double that with reinforcement from the frost giants of the north. His goal is surely no less than rule of the world, and if he is not stopped the world will be at his mercy." Drizzt studied his hands silently, already guessing at the man's request. A thousand was a lot of foes and if Dumbledore was correct then getting through that would be the lesser of his problems. Drizzt had come across only two others who could match his own skill. One was Artemis Entreri, and the other was his father Zaknafein Do'Urden. If this Lord Voldemort were as skillful with blades as Dumbledore had said, then he would be Drizzt's biggest obstacle.
A small cough from McGonagall brought Drizzt out of his reverie. He gazed into Dumbledore's blue eye for a few moments before, "You want me to kill him for you." It was not a question, but a statement of recognition of the other's intent. Dumbledore nodded slightly.
"In a sense," the white-bearded man said slowly, "but not alone. You see, before he was killed, Voldemort tried to conquer the world via a massive army such as the one he is building now. During that time, Hogwarts offered a course that taught students to use a weapon in physical combat. Our magic has no effect on goblinoids, giants, and other such villainous things, so it was necessary to defeat them through physical combat instead. When Voldemort was killed, we stopped offering the course thinking we would have no need for it. However, I fear the worst and we will definitely have need of such a course once again." McGonagall gasped in terror, heaving caught on to Dumbledore's plan. Drizzt knew now as well what the headmaster's request was, but the longer he stayed here, the more time he wasted in finding his friends. "I assure you, Drizzt, that your friends will be found and brought here. With such fighting prowess and marksmanship as Bruenor, Cattie-brie, and Wulfgar hold, they would make an excellent addition to our own army." He paused a moment to consider something, then continued on. "All of the weapons and any other supplies needed will be provided for you. Everything you would need to teach a school of nearly three hundred students to become efficient fighters will be at your disposal." Drizzt considered this a few moments. It seemed simple enough. If he taught these students to fight, not only would he be giving this world some hope against its predator, but also he would not need to search for his friends. Others would do that for him.
"How many…exactly and how old?" Drizzt asked finally, studying his boots. He had succumbed to Dumbledore's request before the man had finished, but he would not teach those that were too young.
"You would be teaching only third years and up, but I'm not sure…Minerva," Dumbledore prompted. The grayed woman took out her wand and flicked her wrist causing several pieces of parchment to appear on her lap. She began fumbling through the papers nervously.
"Well, the youngest would be thirteen years and the oldest eighteen," she said briskly, never daring to so much as glance at Drizzt from the corner of her eye. "As to how many…with all houses included, minus first and second years…" She did the tallying mentally. Drizzt could tell she didn't like the idea of him being a professor, but she obeyed Dumbledore's orders without question, putting complete trust in the man. "There would be exactly three hundred twenty-eight students." She looked up at Dumbledore expectantly, who nodded and turned his own gaze upon the black-skinned elf before his desk.
"The age," Drizzt began, "I have no problems with. Any younger and I would have refused. However, there is no way I can turn that many people into fighters sufficient enough to meet your needs. Not to mention, I don't think you've got a room large enough to accommodate that many kids wielding weapons."
"Oh, heavens no," Dumbledore replied, "you would be teaching three two and a half hour long sessions every day. Half of the students on one day, and half the other." Drizzt did some math mentally. That was fifty-four students per session, with one session of fifty-five per day. That was still quite a few, but he could handle it. He pondered this a little more before he finally spoke.
"All right," Drizzt said, looking at Dumbledore. The man's face lit up visibly, but Drizzt continued before he could say anything. "However, the students will follow all of my rules without question. If they do not, they will be punished. And nothing else can interfere. If they have something else at a time I wish to work with them individually, the other will have to wait." Dumbledore nodded, glancing to McGonagall who gave an exasperated sigh.
"Headmaster, as much as we need someone to teach the students to fight, we cannot possibly meet these demands." McGonagall looked as if she were about to explode. "I for one would not stand for my students missing Transfiguration for it." Again, Dumbledore nodded.
"I think we can satisfy everyone easily enough, Minerva. Drizzt, you may not take more than one student from a class per day, and you may not take a student from any one class twice in a row, and you may not take any student from more than one class per day." Drizzt nodded. He generally preferred full control of his students, but it would do. "Minerva, the professors will not complain about Drizzt's actions unless they violate the guidelines that have clearly been stated here, and any student missing a class will make it up on the following weekend or after dinner at the professor's discretion. Does that suit you?" McGonagall gave a short, curt nod. She didn't like it any more than the proposal Drizzt had given, he could tell. Yet, she seemed ready enough to accept it as inescapable.
"Good," Dumbledore beamed at the two of them, "now if you will escort our newest faculty member to the Room of Requirement, Minerva. That will be your classroom and your quarters, Drizzt." He gave Drizzt a wink. "It's a wondrous place." McGonagall stood with another sigh and Drizzt followed. He turned to follow her out of the door and noticed several pictures lining the wall. They were all glaring at him menacingly and conversing in hushed tones. Some of the occupants of the picture would occasionally walk out of their own frame and into another next to it. Drizzt's scimitars flew into his hands as his instincts began to surface. He was on the verge of lunging at the portraits when a hand plopped onto his shoulder.
"Fear not, Drizzt. They cannot hurt you. Nor would they hurt you if given the chance. In this world, the pictures are able to move about from frame to frame." Drizzt turned his head to find Dumbledore smiling at him in amusement. McGonagall, who had turned just in time to see Drizzt's scimitars flash out of their sheaths, paled visibly and leaned against the door to steady herself. Drizzt was rather embarrassed. If the woman had feared him before, now she suspected Drizzt would hack her to pieces at any moment.
"I'm…I'm sorry," Drizzt muttered as he slid his scimitars back into their sheaths quickly
"Pay no heed to it," Dumbledore replied. "It could have happened to anyone." Drizzt nodded rather meekly. If he'd been lighter skinned the other two would have seen him flush crimson from head to foot. "Minerva, you two should probably be on your way. You look tired. Once you've shown Drizzt how to use the Room of Requirement, I want you to go straight to bed." McGonagall's face began to regain color in little splotches. She nodded and then opened the door with a shaking hand and left the office. Drizzt followed without a word.
As the two walked through the empty corridors, Drizzt following six paces behind, Drizzt's mind raced. He wasn't getting off on a very good start with the woman. Somehow, he had to make her see that he was not evil. Normally he would not have cared what she thought, but he would have to be around her nearly every day and if she thought him likely to kill her, it would be a most unpleasant experience for the both of them. McGonagall led Drizzt to a set of stairs and began to move upward. Once again, he paused to stare at the moving staircases in wonder. Then he was off after McGonagall again. The pair went up seven floors as near as Drizzt could guess. Then McGonagall led him down another corridor.
"So, you teach the students here how to successfully use a Transfiguration spell?" Drizzt dared to ask. From his position he saw the woman give a small, short nod. "Look, I'm sorry about back in Dumbledore's office. I was caught off guard and my instinct told me that I was in danger." McGonagall said nothing and made no movement in answer. Drizzt was about to try another question, but the woman stopped, suddenly at a dead end and pointed to the wall to her left.
"There it is," McGonagall said. "That's where the Room of Requirement is." Drizzt searched, for the second time that evening, for a door. Perhaps there was a secret door like that of Mithril Hall21. If that was the case, then the door had to be tapped with a magical weapon. He was about to draw his magical scimitar, Icingdeath, when McGonagall gave an exasperated sigh and marched up to him.
"Look," she said in irritation, her fear apparently forgotten for the time, "do you see those tapestries there?" She pointed to the two tapestries, brilliantly colored, hanging on the wall. Drizzt studied them closely, thinking she meant they were the door, or at least a key to the door. "Walk back and forth in front of those tapestries thinking of what you need and a door will appear there between the tapestries." Drizzt nodded slowly. He thought he understood well enough to work the thing.
"Thank you," he said to McGonagall with a sincere smile. He fear suddenly came back in a rush. She flinched back from his smile then gave another short nod and hurried back the way they had come. Drizzt stood there for a while staring at the wall where the door was supposed to be. If he had been anyone else, he would have thought the idea of such a room a foul prank to make the monstrous drow seem an ass. However, he had seen many things in his years and trusted Dumbledore completely.
Drizzt began to pace back and forth in front of the two tapestries. I need a room large enough to accommodate at least fifty-six people with weapons, Drizzt thought. It needs to have a weapons cabinet and everything I need to turn students into efficient fighters. He glanced at the wall and rather got a shock when he saw an eight-foot door where there had been naught but bare stone wall before. Tentatively, he opened the door and entered the room. He got another shock when he saw what was beyond that door. Not only was the room nearly twice the size he had originally thought it would be, but along each wall there was an assortment of armor, weapons, and other battle apparatus. It was enough equipment to outfit every soldier in Silverymoon twice over with some to spare. On one wall he found a small bookshelf filled with book on strategic combat. He began reading one of them and realized that nearly everything in the book was what he had been taught by his father Zaknafein when he himself had learned to fight as a young drow. Now if I only had a separate room to sleep in, he thought as he replaced the book on the shelf he had taken it from. Maybe if I had a large bedroom with a soft bed… Suddenly a door appeared next to the bookshelf across the room.
"So that's how it works," Drizzt mused aloud. Apparently in this room when one needed something, one need only think of their need and it was there. Striding to the door, he opened it and gazed beyond. The interior of this room was similar to the first without all of the shelves and weaponry. This room instead, held only a few torches, a small table, a single unremarkable chair, and a large canopy bed. On the inside of the door was a deadbolt to lock it against intruders. Drizzt closed the door behind him and locked it. He then tore off his cloak and blades and plopped down onto the bed without bothering to even take off his boots. He groaned softly as he let the bed's incredible softness absorb his weariness in part. Slowly he laid back and closed his eyes, trying vainly to find the much needed rest of deep slumber. However, despite the lack of energy he had, he knew that he would find no sleep this evening. His day had been too exciting, and frustrating as well. Standing, he scooped up his weapons, threw on his cloak and swept out the door.
As he walked back through the "training room" a pendant caught his eye. The small amulet was hanging on a peg in one of the weapons cabinets. It looked as though it were made of onyx and it was shaped like the head of a growling panther. When he stopped to examine the thing, it began to emanate a darkness greater than that even of his own magical globe of darkness. He slipped it off of its peg and held it before him. He wondered vaguely, as the thing pulled him into it mystically as it twirled, if perhaps it was such a thing as Regis the halfling's ruby pendant22. Perhaps this had the power to entrance anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in its gleam and make them susceptible to suggestions, even those that might endanger one's life. Pulling his gaze from it he slipped the chain around his neck and tucked it inside of his shirt, away from prying eyes. Then he left the Room of Requirement.
Harry awoke with a start and jolted upright. As he had suspected, he'd had a dream about Voldemort. This time the man had been gathering an army of goblinoids and giants. Harry shivered at the thought. He, like everyone else in the entire world, hated goblins with a passion. He had heard tales of dwarves from Adbar going to war with the vile creatures for no more reason than one of their scouts had been spotted on Adbar territory. Yet, that thought didn't lighten his mood at all. Beside Voldemort he had seen what he had feared he would. He had seen a drow elf standing next to Voldemort as an equal. Harry hadn't been able to see the drow's face in detail, but he knew it was a drow beyond any doubts that ay have surfaced in his mind. He knew that he would never be able to sleep now, so he scrambled out of bed, down the stairs to the common room and plopped into a chair before the smoldering remains of what had previously been a roaring blaze.
On the side table next to him, he found a sheet of paper, and a quill and ink bottle. He hadn't gotten the chance to write Sirius for a long time and so turned the chair to face the table. Quickly he wrote a letter to Sirius using the quill and ink bottle next to he parchment. When he had finished he read over the letter quickly to make sure he had included everything he wanted to say.
Dear Snuffles,
We had a bit of excitement toady. First day back and not only is Malfoy already starting in on my friends and I, but something weird happened. We were eating dinner when the caretaker came in to speak with Dumbledore. Shortly after Dumbledore told us that a drow had been found in a third floor corridor unconscious. What do you make of this?
Sincerely,
Harry
Satisfied that the letter was sufficient, Harry rolled up the parchment and tied it quickly with a piece of string he found in the table's drawer. He then dashed up to his dorm, grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map and zoomed back down to the common room and out through the portrait hole. He looked at the Marauder's Map and found that only Snape was standing between himself and the owlery, yet Snape was enough trouble to keep him on his toes. Had he been looking closely, he would have noticed another dot in the vicinity of the owlery. A dot that was labeled with a name he did not know.
Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and sprinted through the castle. He managed to make it through the halls and up to the owlery with little incident, seeing Snape only once and getting by him before the Potions Master suspected even the slightest thing to be out of the ordinary. Several minutes later he was climbing into the owlery with his letter in hand. Once there, he took off his Invisibility Cloak and called out to Hedwig, his snow owl. He scanned the rafters briefly with his eyes and then looked to the perches all about him at about chest level. When he found no signs of his beloved owl, he called out again, a little louder this time. "Hed…" he whispered into the darkness. There was a flutter of wings and feathers and suddenly Hedwig was lighting on a perch next to Harry's head. Hurriedly he tied the letter to her leg and carried her to the window.
He instructed the owl as to where the letter was to be delivered and released her. After she had gone, Harry stood at the window, feeling the cool night breeze on his face. He loved that feeling. He didn't know how long he had been standing there, but when he turned to leave, he noticed a movement out on the roof of the owlery. He leaned further out to get a better look at whatever it was, thinking it to be an owl or some other large bird, and found himself mere inches from a drow elf. He gave a startled yelp, pulling the drow's attention to him, and scrambled away from the window. H had turned to run away, but Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, blocked his path and he tripped over her. When he had regained enough composure to roll onto his back, the drow had already come through the window and was now advancing on Harry wearing a huge smile that Harry took to be delight that he had found easy prey. Harry began to crawl backwards, never taking his eyes off of the drow, but soon found his back to a wall. As the drow neared, Harry shut his eyes tight, muttering a prayer to Mielikki23, the goddess of the ranger, and his personal favorite deity. What's the matter? Ron's voice taunted in the back of his mind. I thought the thing wasn't going to hurt anyone. Harry held his eyes shut tight for what seemed an eternity, waiting some blade or another to pierce through his heart, but the pain never came.
When Harry opened his eyes, he found the drow standing over him, his lavender eyes glinting eerily in the waning moonlight. He had a black-skinned hand outstretched to Harry as if to help him to his feet. Harry took the hand tensely and pulled himself off of the ground with the other's help. Despite his slight frame, Harry could feel the drow's strength in his hand. He brushed himself off quickly and then looked up at the figure before him. The drow was rather short and wore a black cloak with the hood back, and commoner's clothes. At his waist were two sheathed weapons and a belt pouch.
"Thank you," Harry offered meekly.
"Think nothing of it," the drow replied, completely surprising him in his ability to speak the common tongue. "I am Drizzt Do'Urden." Harry saw his eyes flit quickly, barely noticeable, to the scar on his forehead. "You must be Harry. The Headmaster told me all about you." Harry nodded with a sigh.
Great, he thought sourly, another adoring fan. Drizzt must have been able to read his thoughts, or at least his expression, because he smiled warmly and patted him on the shoulder.
"Do not worry," he grinned, "I won't worship the ground you walk on. I know what it is to be considered different than everyone else." Harry flinched at the hand on his shoulder and looked into Drizzt's face. He expected to see sadness, but instead he saw a wide smile greeting him. He suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for the other overriding his fear and apprehension. Yet, Drizzt was a drow, and he didn't seem too concerned. Rejection must be commonplace in his life, so he must be used to it by now. Harry stared at him for a moment then shrank back in fear after realizing just what was standing before him.
"Don't worry, Harry," Drizzt assured him hurriedly, "I won't hurt you. My people are passionless murderers, but I am not." Again, Harry nodded and swallowed difficultly, as his throat was parched.
"I, er…I," Harry stammered anxiously, wishing to be away from Drizzt, "I should get back to bed." Drizzt withdrew his hand from Harry's shoulder and smiled once again.
"Of course, you have a big day tomorrow." Harry merely shrugged nervously and with one more fearful glance into Drizzt's purple orbs, flew out the door, not bothering to cover himself with the Invisibility Cloak. Harry dared not sop running until he was back in Gryffindor Tower, lest Drizzt change his manner and treat Harry as prey. Once safely in the common room, Harry plopped heavily into his favorite chair near the fireplace and dozed off within seconds to dream of Voldemort and black elves.
FOOTNOTES
1. Hosttower of the Arcane—this is a tower of arcane magic in Faerun. Many aspiring mages come here to study the black arts.
2. Luskan—a large city whose main landmark is the Hosttower of the Arcane.
3. Menzoberranzan—a small drow city of the Underdark. Drizzt grew up in the eighth house of Menzoberranzan.
4. Underdark—the line of interconnecting tunnels below the surface of the planet. It is usually very hot there. It is also the homeland of the drow and many other races and monsters.
5. Silverymoon—one of the grandest cities in all the forgotten realms. It is the most diverse city to be found and very accepting of all.
6. Lady Alustriel—ruler and wizard of Silverymoon. She is one of Drizzt's greatest friends and often mistaken as his lover.
7. Citadel Adbar—until Bruenor reclaimed Mithril Hall, Adbar was the world's strongest dwarven stronghold.
8. King Harbromme—human ruler of Citadel Adbar. He is not very well like by the dwarves of the stronghold, but is popular among the humans.
9. passionless…like his people—Drizzt's kin, the drow, often kill with no passion. They kill just because they love to kill. Drizzt is not like that.
10. Harpells—a group of wizards that are very odd and more often than not hurt themselves when casting a spell.
11. Longsaddle—magical home of the Harpells. Few visit there because the eccentric wizards are not well liked.
12. mages—Snape's rage is founded well here. In this new world, magical people do not hide their identities. However, those that call themselves mages are evil and use their power only to gain for themselves and to rule over those with no magic. The wizarding folk are good and fight for justice and selflessness.
13. Guenhwyvar—a magical panther that is summoned via a figurine in form of a panther. She is Drizzt's most trusted friend and battle companion. She cannot be killed unless she is on the Astral Plane, her home.
14. Zaknafein—Drizzt's father from Menzoberranzan and the one who taught Drizzt to fight. He was one of only two who could match Drizzt's skill with blades and he died to save Drizzt's life.
15. Mooshie—a friend that Drizzt met upon first coming to the surface. Mooshie taught Drizzt the value of the ranger.
16. Drizzit—once Drizzt tried to communicate with a small boy from the surface, telling him his name. The boy heard the word "Drizzit" and screamed out in terror. Later the boy was found dead. The memory has haunted Drizzt since.
17. Akar Kessel—a man who gained unbelievable power and tried to kill the friends from Icewind Dale. He failed.
18. Artemis Entreri—an assassin from a city far distant to the place Drizzt now calls his home. However, the assassin is one of only two people to ever match Drizzt's ability with blades. He is obsessed with beating Drizzt in a fair fight to prove that he is the stronger.
19. gnolls—dog-like creatures that walk upright on two legs. They are usually very tall and very strong. They hunt in packs and are quite relentless.
20. Astral Plane—there are many planes of existence. The Astral Plane is one of them. Guenhwyvar resides there unless the possessor of the black figurine has summoned her, whence she comes to the Material Plane.
21. Mithril Hall—home and kingdom of Bruenor Battlehammer, one of Drizzt's most trusted friends. A dragon named Shimmergloom from a different plane had once taken Mithril Hall, but Drizzt and company killed the dragon and defeated the other inhabitants of the mines, taking the halls back.
22. Regis…pendant—Regis, the halfling, possesses a small ruby pendant that, when twirled about in front of one, captures the onlooker in its gleam with a magical entrancing power. The onlooker is then very susceptible to any suggestions made by the wielder of the pendant.
23. Mielikki—the goddess of the ranger. Drizzt personally follows Mielikki and in this plane, Harry prefers her to any of the other deities he has met.