HP/LOTR crossover
Note: All notes, important or otherwise are posted at the top of the prologue. I will add more notes when I feel it is necessary.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT, AND WILL NEVER CLAIM OWNERSHIP OVER HARRY POTTER AND ITS CHARACTERS OR LORD OF THE RINGS AND ITS CHARACTERS.
Six: A Test of Sorts.
As the laughter subsided, Harry turned back around to face them all, and, of course, to await the verdict on his fate. He stood his ground against the stares he was receiving but that did nothing to quell the anxious feeling that was bubbling deep inside of him.
Before long, Lord Elrond held out the knife he had been given to study. Unconsciously, Harry stepped forward and took the knife at the joint of the handle and the blade; his first free fingers and thumb sitting comfortably on the jade and silver hand piece. He did not seem to notice when his little finger automatically found the singular place on the sharp edge of the blade where no more than a little-fingers width was blunt.
After re-sheathing the knife that had just been returned to him, Harry moved to take the knife that Celebrian was currently holding. Grasping it in the same fashion he did the other (again, never realising he was doing it but doing so like it was second nature), he proceeded to re-sheath it. No one noticed the curious look on the face of the elf that currently had Harry's sword in hand.
"So, what is the verdict?" Harry asked them, wanting desperately to speak with Celebrian. Despite earlier merriment, Harry was deeply upset. He'd been taught that letting your emotions out is healthy, but Harry didn't grow up in such a manner. He hid himself well, which used to infuriate the hell out of his friends back home.
"I, for the first time in a long time, am at a complete loss." Elrond begins. "The weapon is ornately beautiful. Finely crafted by extremely talented elvish weaponry makers. Although that may very well be the case, I cannot tell whether the item is a duplicate or if it is genuine." He turned to his wife and raised an eyebrow in silent question. He wanted to know her thoughts on the knife she had studied.
"I would say much the same as my husband. It bore the mark of Lóthlorien. Among its other markings, the mark of my sister, Anéthiel, star of Siryái, and the mark of my father." She took a deep breath and continued. "Its design seems unmistakably Lorien and yet, I cannot be sure. My hands can wield a blade for defensive purpose true enough, but I cannot tell if the balance of a blade is off, or if the handle is shorter than another handle might be… In essence, I truly do not know."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the dark haired elf he'd handed his sword to make a quick – too quick for these Elves to notice, but not for Harry – movement. Said elf grasped the blade of the sword at the tip loosely with his right hand, and held the handle with two fingers and one thumb on his left. He then, using his right hand as the pushing force, propelled it into the air in Harry's direction.
Without thinking, Harry held out his right hand while his left hand travelled quickly to his left thigh to retrieve one of his daggers. He caught the sword expertly; apparated from where he stood and reappeared directly in front of the dark haired elf. His sword went as fast as lightning to rest at the elf's throat and the dagger in his left hand was prodding comfortably, or not, as it were, at the elf's cheek.
"And what is your judgment o' tall, dark and handsome?" the half-elf asked, trying to suppress the grin that was fighting to the surface. He knew that from the first moment he caught the elf's movement, what would follow would be a test of sorts. He did not see the harm in having a little fun along the way.
The dark haired elf did not bother to suppress his grin. "You move like you are made for that weapon." He said for the first time since Harry's arrival. Harry definitely couldn't shake off the feeling that he should know this elf from somewhere.
"And if I say I am?" Harry cocked an eyebrow.
"Any other elf would call you as arrogant as the Marchwarden of Lorien seems." Harry could 'feel' the scowl on Haldir's face.
"You are not any other elf." The former Gryffindor commented. "An Elder of sorts, older than any that dwell here, as old as my Grandmother… Whether you are older, I am not certain. So I ask again, what is your judgment?" The elf before him mock-scowled at him and Harry smirked. "O' tall, dark and handsome." He added.
"The blade is genuine, as is your blood. Son of Anéthiel, star of Siryái you indeed are." Harry smiled his thanks, but did not rest his stance.
"Harry you have proven your point, release Erestor please." The half-elf heard the Marchwarden plead but did not release his hold.
"Erestor can get out of my hold if he so wishes." Harry called over his shoulder as he ran his dagger over the elf's cheek. "You intrigue me." He spoke now to Erestor himself. "Not many people intrigue me." He admitted, a wistful look about his features. "Not even Galadriel intrigued me, of course, my blatant lack of interest in her after she attempted to delve into my thoughts aided in my lack of attention but you… You are smart, cunning," He cracked a smile. "Brave." Erestor smiled too at this. "You are loyal; not an overly angry elf but you have your moments."
The dagger continued to roam over Erestor's right cheek but the elf was not bothered but that. Not even by the knife at his throat. He too was intrigued by this newcomer.
"You have traits of Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor." Harry went on, earning a few gasps from the crowd around him. "Once upon a time, it is my belief that you befriended each of them. You came to my realm and had relationships, platonic or otherwise," his eyes danced merrily at this. Though Erestor was not scowling openly, Harry could see it in his eyes. "You knew them all. I could even go as far as to say you were the fifth, silent founder of Hogwarts." He paused, dagger still dancing across pale yet, dark skin. "But I won't."
"Was there anything else about me you know that I do not?" Erestor asked, eyes alight with a mixture of amusement and understanding. Harry grinned.
"No." He said. "You are well aware of all the traits I have mentioned. As I am aware of more than I have stated, though not all." He smirked slightly. "The Princeling Legolas has captured my eye, you have caught my interest. Again I say you intrigue me more than any other has ever done. I look forward to finding out more about you, Erestor." Harry lowered the knife from Erestor's throat but did not at first move the dagger.
"And I you, Harry, son of Anéthiel."
"I find it strange." The half-elf began after a moments contemplative thought. At Erestor's inquisitive look, he continued. "When I turned 17, I gained access to the vault in which my parents stored their belongings – and after they died, all other belongings they did not store went there until I was old enough to claim them. Anyway, what is strange is that in these belongings was a case. I opened the case and found inside two knives, similar to my own save their colouration. The knives were black; obsidian would be my first guess at the material.
"Anyway, the handles were obsidian with ruby etching. The actual design of the knives is not important, what my point is, what I'm trying to get at… is there was an inscription on the inside of the lid of the case. It was a short rhyme of sorts and I think it read:
For one with the traits of the Hogwarts fourFor the one whose silence the four adore
For one who long since left these lands
These knives will be held by your ageless hands.
Or something of similar rhyming patterns." He finished, still his dagger playing about Erestor's face.
"Why is it that you find this rhyme strange?" Erestor questioned, truly curious as to where Harry was leading with this.
"You hold the traits of the Hogwarts four, you had a friendship with each of them, you haven't been back to my realm in 2000 years and your hands are most definitely ageless." Harry explained happily.
"You think I am the one the inscription is referring to?" At the half-elf's nod the elder of the two merely raised an eyebrow.
"Should these knives indeed be made for myself, they are back in your realm, are they not? What has been the point of being this subject up at this time?" Harry tapped the dagger lightly on the pale cheek, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"You know, I don't have the faintest idea why I brought it up. I apologise." Erestor inclined his head in acceptance and Harry took a step back. "I have released your Elder. Put your bows away, he is safe." He exclaimed dramatically, hand gestures and all. "Because he was 'soo' in danger before." He drawled.
"You 'did' have your dagger on his face Harry." Haldir pointed out and Harry rolled his eyes.
"So 'not' helping Marchwarden." He turned to Celebrian. "Can we talk please?" He asked quietly and noticed Elrond stepping closer to his wife.
"Could you speak with us both together?" He asked, not bothering to disguise his distrust.
"No." Was Harry's only reply, causing Elrond to frown. Before the elf-lord could pass further comment Erestor stepped up beside Harry.
"Respectfully, I trust Harry fully. He is no danger to the Lady. I would even go as far to say he would do almost anything to protect her." The half-elf acknowledged Erestor's help with a short but meaningful nod.
10 minutes later saw Harry and Celebrian alone in a room she called the 'sun-room'. The Lady took an arm chair by one of the large windows, where as Harry chose to remain standing for a while.
"You know when I first saw you I thought I was seeing mom again… only, with blonde hair." Celebrian smiled at the confession but then frowned.
"Did your mother not have hair like mine?" She asked. "I dare say she was born with a head of hair that could rival atara's." Harry shrugged.
"I can't be one hundred percent-" he saw the confused look his aunt sent his way as his choice of phrasing. He shook his head, a smile on his lips. "I mean, I cannot be entirely certain that her hair wasn't charmed. I mean, for all I know, she could have had her hair charmed red when this Istar, who ever he is, gave her away." The Lady nodded and looked out the window, seemingly saddened by something. "Is anything the matter?" He asked, worried.
"Nay… well, yes actually. When speaking of the knives you thought were made for Erestor in the hall, you mentioned that you turned 17 and gained access to the vault you said your parents stored their belongings. A…" She faltered, tears filling her eyes and Harry's own eyes widened at his slip.
"Merlin, Celebrian I am so sorry. I never stopped to think!" He rushed to his aunt's side and pulled her into an awkwardly positioned embrace. "I truly am sorry Aunt Celebrian." He didn't notice his 'next' slip until after it had spilled from his mouth. He tensed immediately, fearing the rejection he'd received from his mother's adopted sister from her real sister.
Celebrian pulled softly from Harry's embrace and looked up at his face. She too had heard his slip but she felt none of the fear she could sense Harry feeling. She felt joy. Though saddened deeply by the news of the death of her sister whom she knew for a short while, not one week in fact, she felt her heart jump at being called 'Aunt' by Harry.
She was an Aunt. And she felt like dancing in the rain under a sea of twinkling stars.
"What is it you fear utinu en' seler' haba?" Harry cocked his head, confusion entwining with the fear in his eyes. Celebrian smiled warmly and translated. "It means 'son of sister mine'. Tell me, what is it you fear? Do you fear me?"
"No, no! Never!" The half-elf said quickly. "Never would I fear my blood." He sighed and moved to sit in the arm chair across from his Aunt. "I'll give you a shortened version of my life so far. I can go into more detail should you wish it." The Lady nodded. "When I was a year old, an evil wizard called Voldemort came to my home. He killed my father in the living room of the house we were living in." A ghost of a smile fluttered across his face at the thought of his father. "He was trying to buy my mother time to get herself and me out of the house alive from an upstairs window." Celebrian smiled.
"He must have been a very brave individual." She commented. Harry nodded.
"One of the bravest. He was struck with the killing curse soon after Voldemort had entered the house. So Voldemort came looking for my mother and me. And he found us in the nursery. He said to my mother, and I quote, 'Stand aside witch, the boy is the only one I'm after tonight.' Mom, of course, refused to stop protecting me, even if it killed her. And it did." A lone tear escaped Harry's defences and made its way down his right cheek. "Her last words before she was given the killing curse were a spell of her own. One Voldemort had never heard of… well, because she had made it herself. It went:
Extract this evil with my spellTake his life and show him hell
Let the magics freely roam
In this place, our hearts, our home
The wand he holds shall kill no more
Keep him from my Gryffindor.
There was no bright light to show the spell had worked, there were no rippling magics to even tell if it was working. There was nothing, and Voldemort laughed and commented on the pretty rhyming. He then sent her to join my dad at the fatal end of the killing curse.
"He then turned on me. I know I was only a year old, but I remember the sickening, sadistic smirk on his face. And the image will haunt me till the day I join my parents. I am not sure exactly what he said, but it went something along the lines of, 'The last of the mighty Gryffindor's. You shall perish as your father, Grandfather and Great-Grandfather did.' He then cast the killing curse at me.
"It went wrong though. The spell my mother cast 'had' worked. And that, on top of the complete and utter love she showed when sacrificing herself so I could live… well, it kept me alive and the curse Voldemort aimed at me, backfired, and hit him instead. So he was temporarily destroyed and for about 14 years, the people remained free and safe.
"During the years after my parents died and before I started at Hogwarts, I stayed with what everyone 'thought', was my aunt. Her name was Petunia. She was married to an oaf called Vernon and they had a son called Dudley. And they all detested magic. Petunia hated her sister because she was a witch therefore; naturally she hated me for being the son of her sister. I guess you could call it logic… in some twisted and sordid fable.
"Anyway, growing up I was an outcast. I never got gifts at Christmas, I never even knew when my birthday was until one day an owl came to me when I was on my own in the park. It had a letter attached to its leg so I took the letter and the owl left. The letter turned out to be from Remus, one of my dad's school friends. He just sent a pleasant happy birthday card with a small note saying "This is no joke; your birthday IS 31st of July." It was like he knew I didn't know. Which, I found out, was true.
"For ten years I spent every night in the cupboard under the stairs and depending on how well behaved I was, I was allowed a minute amount of food for supper." At Celebrian's more-than-a-little-shocked expression, he shrugged his shoulders. "It changed though. Everything changed when I started at Hogwarts.
"Firstly, I was only at the Dursley's for the summer holiday's, if that! I more often than not, was allowed to go to my friend's house for the last two weeks of summer, or… just before my fifth year, I went to stay with my Godfather." Another ghosted smile worked its way onto his face. "I think you would have liked Sirius. He was amazing. And I loved him dearly.
"At the end of my fifth year, Sirius died, protecting me and my friends from a band of evil-wizards. Though it was only 'after' he'd died, that he was officially pardoned of all charges. I'll explain about that later." Harry suddenly had a thought. "Do you want to see a photo of my parents?" He asked.
"What is, a 'photo', exactly?" Celebrian questioned, once more, confused. Harry rolled his eyed.
"A picture, an image of my parents." At the definition, the Lady's eyes lit up. She nodded eagerly and Harry reached for his bag. He brought the opening flap closer to his lips that it was and said clearly, "Photograph of James and Lily Potter, dancing in front of Hogwarts water fountain."
Written by Messrmarauder (aka Ithil hin).