AUTHOR'S NOTE So here you go, the beginning of the crossover part of the story! Again, hope you enjoy. And thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter one!

DISCLAIMER We don't own anything. JK Rowling owns most of the characters and those that she doesn't belong to the estate of JRR Tolkien. And we're borrowing Peter Jackson's visual interpretation of the White Hall of Minas Tirith.

After seconds of what Harry felt as whooshing through the air, he found himself standing on a tall ledge. He looked around in confusion, but he was alone. With a crack, Dumbledore apparated behind him. "Welcome, Harry, to Minas Tirith."

Harry blinked. "To where?"

"Minas Tirith, Harry. The Tower of the Guard."

"I'm sorry sir," Harry said. "But I have no idea where we are."

Dumbledore chuckled. "And you shouldn't. Minas Tirith has been carefully hidden from prying eyes for hundreds of generations." He turned Harry away from the edge of the high terrace and walked slowly in the opposite direction. Harry stared curiously at the elegant palace before him, watched over by what appeared to be a dead white tree. "Uh, Professor? Is that tree dead?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes Harry, it is indeed. We are in the Court of the Fountain and that is the White Tree of the King. It has been dead for many years. So has the House of Telcontar."

"The House of Telcontar?" Harry was very confused.

"Yes. Please follow me."

Harry followed, but hesitantly. "Professor, why did you bring me here? Is this another safe haven for me?"

Dumbledore stopped and turned toward Harry, his old eyes twinkling. "In a way," was all he said before continuing into the White Palace.

Harry sucked in his breath when Dumbledore led him into a vast hall that rivaled the Great Hall at Hogwarts in splendor. The walls and floor were white marble and a majestic white throne sat atop a dais high above the floor. At the foot of the stairs before it was another throne, this one jet black. Harry gazed at the dark statues surrounding the hall. "What is this place?" he asked.

"The White Hall, Harry. This was the Hall of the King."

"What King?"

Dumbledore stopped and turned around slowly. "Harry, the world has not always been as it is now. Minas Tirith is all that remains of the way the world once was. The Kings who reigned here are long gone. The line ended many years ago."

"Oh."

Harry continued following Dumbledore past the dais at the head of the room to a small doorway. Stairs led down. Harry followed Dumbledore down further and further below the White Hall as the staircase wound in tight circles lit by flickering torches. The stairs ended in a small room with six doors leading from it.

Dumbledore guided Harry toward the second door on their left bearing the same white hand that had adorned his parchment. Once inside, he opened a large wardrobe and pulled out two sets of elegant white robes. "Please put these on, Harry," he said, handing Harry one set. Harry looked around and headed to a small anti-chamber.

The robes consisted of a pair of trousers, a tunic, and a long white robe that closed over his chest. On his left breast was a crest that Harry was unfamiliar with. He fastened a silver belt around his waist and reemerged.

Dumbledore was waiting for him in an outfit identical to his own, save the crest on his chest. He held a pair of white boots. "Please, put these on as well."

Harry complied, although he was feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute. "Professor Dumbledore, please tell me what's going on?" he asked nervously.

Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "Harry, I assure you, you have nothing to fear here. The magic here is stronger than any in the outside world and has been unbroken for centuries. But we must move on, for time is growing short."

Harry sighed and gave up. Dumbledore again led him into the seven-doored room and stopped before the door two further on the left. It was a black door, the only one in the room unmarked. Dumbledore paused, his hand on the handle, and winked at Harry before allowing the door to sweep open.

Beyond lay a cavernous room, in the center of which was a rich black obsidian table. Men and women gazed at him, each adorned in similar robes of white, gray, brown, and light and dark blue. Dumbledore left Harry's side, moving to a chair marked with the same crest as his robes. Harry stood in the doorway awkwardly, wondering what to do next. He felt everyone's eyes upon him.

"Harry Potter, of the House of Potter, of the Line of Saruman." Harry looked across to the far side of the table in awe at the majestic old wizard who'd stood to greet him. "On this, your seventeenth birthday, you have hereby come of age," Merlin declared. "Welcome to the Istari Council."