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Author's note: Are Tolkien's characters out of character? I suppose so. People change with time and Gandalf and the elves have been alive a long time. That's one reason. The other concerns the fellowship. They are more relaxed. I'm putting it on account of different circumstances, not so much responsibilities and grief and so on.

Chapter Two: Awakening

He was floating in a world of peace and safety.

But that sensation felt wrong somehow. What was happening? Oh yes. He was unconscious. But beyond that? He gave a mental snort. At present, he remembered exactly why he hated so much being unconscious. He didn't know what was going on, where he was and, worse yet, he didn't know who was around him. Fantastic way to get oneself killed. He made an effort to wake up.

The first sense to come back was taste. Heurk. He hadn't brushed his teeth since some time. Very useful information. He very firmly told his mental voice to shut up. The mental voice just snickered back.

The second sense to come back was smell. He didn't smell anything particular at first. Just clean bed sheets. No. They were more than clean. Sterilised. Actually, even the air smelled of disinfectants.

The third sense was touch. He was lying on a bed and could feel the sun on his face. He could also feel another sensation but couldn't put his finger on it. Oh. Pounding headache. How could I have missed this? A doubt entered his mind. Something about the last time he had woken up this way. Was he wearing…? Yes, he was still wearing his own clothes. No repeat performance of the kilt 'accident', then. Thank the Valar.

So, still clothed, sanitised environment and headache. He was in a hospital of some sort. Hearing decided to make its entrance.

"…last to wake up. His companions refuse to answer the Aurors' questions until they have seen him." It was a woman's voice, very professional. A nurse?

"These Muggles were lucky." Another voice. A male one with more authority. The doctor? "The Death Eaters could have killed them easily if the Aurors had not arrived when they did."

Easily killed? Them?

"I'd love to see your Death Eaters try." And pay for their presumption. He finally managed to open his eyes. He blinked at once. He could see the sun through the window facing the bed. It wasn't very high yet but already bright. What kind of person put beds in front of the sun?

"Finally awake, I see. How do you feel?" the man asked.

There was only one woman with him in the room. They were wearing white robes with a red cross in the front and in the back. Strange. So the man who was wearing a skirt last week said. He did the only thing to do in these cases and ignored his inner voice. He sat up on the edge of the only bed in the room. It was a hospital bed, as he had already guessed but he couldn't see any charts. The empty room was large and two decorative pillars cut the room in two. He recognised the Gothic style of the ornamentations. The only furniture of the room was a table on which were set strange looking bottles.

"Mister Muggle?" The man was trying to draw back his attention. He sounded annoyed. "How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"

"Fine. Have a headache. Got," skewered by arrows by a band of Uruk-Hai and died in Aragorn's arms. Stop. Rewind. Play again. Same scene. Crap. Fast forward, "into an abandoned house. Met a weirdo who did something to us. Passed out. That's all," I'm going to tell you, he added mentally.

"Do you remember your name?"

"Bruce Ward." But I am also Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor.

"Well, you seem in good health. We'll tell your friends you're awake and that they can come in." For a doctor, that man sure did not seem overly concerned for his patient. Neither did the nurse. What did I do to them? Drool on their robes while sleeping? But the couple had already closed the door behind them. He hadn't even had the time to ask the smallest question.

All he had to do now was to wait for the others to arrive and try to sort out his memories. He remembered his life as Boromir. His death. Then, there was a feeling of peace, warmth and companionship. Wherever he had been, he hadn't been alone. A feeling of wait too. Bruce's life. His friends. They looked as they did in their previous life, except of course the little fact that the hobbits and the dwarf were humans now. They also had modern hair-cuts. Adam and Aragorn, Gregory and Gimli, Sean and Sam, Matthew and Merry, Philip and Pippin and Frank. Frodo. Boromir groaned then. He had tried to take the Ring from Frodo and then had failed Merry and Pippin. How are the little ones going to forgive me? More importantly, did the quest fail because of my weakness?

The door banged open. "Bruce!"

He did not have to wonder long. Two blurs were coming right at him. He braced himself for the punches.

They never came.

Instead, he had two young former hobbits trying to choke him to death by means of hugs.

"We thought you were dead," Philip, no, Pippin's voice came from his left.

"Try to do that again and we'll make sure you will wish to be dead," threatened Merry on his right.

Boromir did the only thing he could. He hugged them back.

"Three grown men fooling around on a bed. No wonder the nurses look at us strangely." Gimli. Despite his gruff tone, he was smiling fondly and so was Aragorn beside him. Boromir did a double take. Gimli was as tall if not taller as Aragorn. Highly disturbing. This time, Boromir let the inner voice get away with its wry comment. His eyes were going back and forth between the former dwarf – definitely former dwarf- and Aragorn. The latter shrugged helplessly. He too had a slightly troubled look in his eyes when he was looking at Gimli. The Ranger was also making discreet hand signals. Oh. Someone could be listening to their conversation. No use of former– true? – names, then.

Movements behind Gimli caught Boromir's eye. Frodo and Sam, his mind supplied. They hadn't said anything, hiding from him. A flash of hurt went through him. I deserve that. Something must have shown on his face because Sam rolled his eyes. "Bigger men are so stupid."

At this, Frodo laughed and together, they moved to join the other hobbits. Sam walked around the bed and jumped on his back, effectively trapping the man between three human-sized walls but Frodo had stopped in front of him. He was looking seriously at Boromir.

"Bruce."

"Frank." I'm sorry.

"I am happy to see you too." You're forgiven. Frodo smiled and took the place Merry and Pippin had left free between them. At his turn, he undertook the task the others had started: smothering Boromir. Hardy and strong man of Gondor, indeed! I am murdered by people happy to see me.

Despite his wry inner comments, relief was flooding through Boromir. They had all forgiven him. But what had happened after his death? Where were Legolas and Gandalf? If he could come back from the dead, so should Gandalf. But he had a more urgent problem on his hands.

"Can't… br..breathe," he tried to say. Fortunately, one of the hobbits must have understood his plight and warned the others.

"Oh, sorry." The little imps sounded totally unrepentant but they released him. He ran back that sentence in his head. The Little People weren't so little anymore. Pippin was almost as tall as him. He shook his head. He would have to stick to Bruce's 'kids' if he wanted to give them a nickname.

When he looked back at Aragorn, the other man had come closer and was extending a hand to help him up. He stared first at the hand then followed the arm up to Aragorn's face. The former Ranger raised a quizzical eyebrow but the rest of his face was impassive. Deciding two could play this silent game, Boromir nodded –let him translate that as he wishes- and took the hand.

He realised at Aragorn's roguish grin he had made a mistake. Boromir was suddenly yanked to his feet and crushed in the other man embrace's. When did they decide today would be a good day to asphyxiate me? But his own free arm was squeezing the Ranger with all his strength.  "By the way," Aragorn's breath was right beside his ear. "Welcome back." After these words, Boromir was released and held back at arm's length. "But Matt is right. Try to do that again and you'll live to regret it."

The son of Gondor snorted, amused. "Who am I to contest your say?"

Gimli was the only one who had yet to greet him. Boromir turned questioning eyes towards him. He was rewarded by an indignant look and a huff. "If you expect me to hug you, Mister Ward, you are either more foolish than I ever imagined or you took a bigger hit falling on your head than the nurses anticipated." Expectantly, all looked at the rust-bearded man. "Still, I am glad to see you well."

That drew chuckles from everyone. The dwarf's manners were still gruff and he still could not bear fools but his heart was in the right place. That hadn't changed despite his appearance. By the gods, the Dwarf is tall!

"Where are…" Boromir interrupted himself. What could he call Legolas and Gandalf without using the nowadays strange names?

"Our other friends?" Thankfully, Aragorn seemed to understand. "They didn't come to England with us, remember? We'll probably meet up later."

That made sense. Bruce wasn't born knowing all the others. Adam and he had only met up with the hobbits and Gimli last year. They would find the two missing companions later. Although… Aren't elves supposed to be immortal? Never mind for now. He had other questions. He opened his mouth but Aragorn didn't let him the time to ask.

"We are currently at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Apparently, we've been attacked by dark wizards who are wanted by the law. They want to interrogate us on what we saw."

"Magical?"

Aragorn's only reaction was to lift an eyebrow and to direct his gaze towards the wall at the head of the bed. The former son of Gondor followed his stare. The painting of a woman hung on the wall. A moving woman who waved at him and winked. Bemused, Boromir bowed his head as salute. Magic, then. Why not? After all, he had seen elves, orcs, a Ring of Power and a Balrog; he was in presence of a former dwarf and four former hobbits and he was here because a wizard had attacked him. Was the existence of magic harder to believe in than in these? He turned back towards Aragorn.

"The nurses have been going on and on about the fact we would have been killed had the Aurors arrived later because us, Muggles, are not very high on the list of favourite peoples of the Death Eaters. Apparently, Death Eaters are the name the wizards who tried to kill us give themselves and Muggles are people who aren't wizards. Personally, I think we did well."

"Did we?" The Son of Gondor glanced meaningfully at Frodo who was arguing about something with the other hobbits and rubbed his finger before looking back at Aragorn. The Ranger looked puzzled for a while then smiled.

"Well, considering the odds, we performed remarkably well."

Boromir closed his eyes in relief. They had saved Middle-Earth from Sauron. They had done it. They had really done it. He opened his eyes in a flash. What of my home? What of the White City? But Aragorn had already changed subjects. He would have to ask later.

"Anyway, the charming nurses here do not seem to like Muggles either but they have not tried to kill us. Yet."

The last word was addressed to Merry and Pippin, who were examining the bottles on the table. At Aragorn's stress, they looked up and smiled unapologetically. The Ranger shook his head but let it pass.

"They have also informed us that there isn't anything wrong with us and they do not think the Death Eaters cursed us. Apparently," the amusement in Aragorn's voice was unmistakable and he waited until he had Boromir's undivided attention, "we fainted."

Boromir blinked then narrowed his eyes. "You. Are. Shitting. Me."

"I wish," Pippin replied. "Bruce, tell Adam that we have the right to play pranks on this kind of people. Even Greg agreed with us."

"Do I want to know?"

Aragorn took a faraway look, shuddered then closed his eyes in distaste.

"You may want to be able to plead ignorance."

Boromir thought back to what he knew of the Hobbits' pranks and of the Dwarf's retaliations to Legolas for his offended pride.

"I'll plead ignorance."

"A wise decision." The Ranger's voice was wistful. He rather looked as if he wanted to drink Morn Nen water, should what Boromir had heard about it prove true.

Someone knocked at the door. "Showtime."

####

Two men in their early thirties wearing black robes entered the room. The Aurors? They were followed by a third man who strongly reminded Boromir of Gandalf. He certainly had enough beard to pass for him and behind half-moon glasses, he had the same twinkle, the same benevolent look in his blue eyes. Unlike the two other men, he was wearing richly decorated green robes. Judging by the curious looks from the members of the Fellowship, he hadn't been here earlier.

"Are you ready to answer our questions, this time?" One of the men in black said impatiently. The other one rolled his eyes and the old man shook his head. Boromir shared a look with his own companions.

"Jerk," Merry mouthed, confirming Boromir's impression. Out loud, he said, "Not yet. We haven't been introduced to everyone. "

"True," the second man is black said.  Turning to Boromir, he started the introductions, "I am Wallace Derek and this is Jared Conrad. We are Aurors. You could say we are the wizard equivalent of the Muggle police." He turned to towards the old man, "This is Professor Albus Dumbledore, an eminent member of our society. He has expressed an interest in learning your story. Do you mind his presence?" Despite his professional tone, Derek sounded confused by Dumbledore's presence.

Looks passed between the members of the Fellowship. The old man's appearance was obviously not usual. Why then would he be here in particular? Nobody but the Fellowship and the aggressors knew what had happened and the Fellowship hadn't talked yet. But the company had learned to discern evil and the old man didn't look or feel evil. Finally, Frodo sighed. They did not have enough information to play the guessing game. "He can stay but I want to know why he is so interested."

Conrad took an offended look but Dumbledore only chuckled.

"Let's say I have my sources of information, my boy. What you know could be of use for me."

A cryptic answer. That man was reminding Boromir more and more of Gandalf. Too bad he isn't him. He blinked. How could he be so sure of that?

"Well, you remind me a lot of an old friend of ours. We would be honoured to be able to aid you though I do not know how," Frodo had chosen to let him stay, then. He leaned back on the edge of the bed beside Boromir. The others hobbits joined them.

"Don't worry about it. I may just ask you to repeat something that might interest me."

Boromir frowned and looked at the others. Gimli had moved to stand beside a pillar. All the better to duck behind, my dear. Aragorn was opposite him, leaning back on a wall almost out of sight from the newcomers, but from his position, he could see everyone in the room and he was currently studying Dumbledore. The old man sounded so sure of himself he had to know something. Still, the Ranger shook his head slightly. He wanted to wait and see for now.

Frodo took the lead. "My name is Frank Peterson and these are Sean Davis and the cousins Matt and Phil Carter. We are college students. Gregory Morrison is a doctor of geology and Bruce Ward and Adam Dawson are cops. We are Americans and we are on a road trip. When we passed by Little Hangleton, the villagers told us the story of a nearby house, the Riddle Manor. We went inside to take a look and eventually, we all ended up in the kitchen. By the way, do you know what happened to the owners of that house?"

Smooth, thought Boromir. The man with the red eyes had told them he had killed them. The small cowering man had said that the Aurors had wards on this house. Thus, the Aurors must know something. Frodo was sharp enough to pick up that little fact. Would the supposed good guys answer him?

"Does it matter?" answered Conrad. But his brow was twitching. "It's done. Continue your tale," he ordered. Fear. Fear was lurking in his voice and in his eyes. What's going on? Boromir's mind wondered.

"May I suggest later explanations?" Dumbledore intervened. He seemed to have noted the company's interest. Aragorn redressed himself slightly, tilted his head and re-examined the old man. Dumbledore must have sensed his gaze for he turned to face the Ranger. But before that, he gave an amused gaze to Boromir. The warrior snorted internally. The old man had recognised their casually defensive stance and was willingly and consciously turning his back to him. Either he is a fool or he is very powerful. How very Gandalf-like.

"Phil opened the back door and there was this freak with red eyes," Frodo resumed their story before pausing again slightly. "You know, I don't think he was wearing contact lenses," he added conversationally.

"What happened then?" Derek's voice was strained to stay polite. Boromir could have sympathised if he wasn't on Frodo's side. The former hobbit was stalling for time. He still didn't know how truthful he would have to be. Beside Derek, Conrad looked down at Frodo with contempt. That guy is getting on my nerves. Conrad acted as if he was superior to the men of the Fellowship. Fortunately, Dumbledore and Aragorn broke their staring contest at this moment. When the son of Arathorn turned back his eyes towards Frodo, his gaze was thoughtful and he nodded towards the Professor. When he looked at the two Aurors, he shook his head. What?

"He was followed by another man," Frodo continued, "this one sounded terrorised. The first man babbled about Muggles and about souls, cast a spell and I passed out."

"Did everyone pass out?" Derek asked.

Boromir saw Aragorn open his mouth reluctantly but Gimli was faster.

"No. Adam, Bruce and I were still conscious. He tried to cast another spell, Avada something and Adam threw a knife at him. People were coming then and the little man and he disappeared."

"You wounded a Death Eater?" Conrad was astonished. Boromir wasn't sure if it was because a Muggle had wounded a wizard or because Aragorn could throw a kitchen knife straight. Actually, it was remarkable that he could hit a target at all with a kitchen knife.

"In the shoulder," Aragorn replied neutrally.

"Lucky shot," scoffed Conrad. He believed in the superiority of wizards, then. A surge of fury coursed through Boromir but he didn't have the time to do anything about it.

"Actually, I missed," What? Aragorn had a dangerous glint in his eyes. He deadpanned, "I was aiming for his throat."

Before Conrad could react, Dumbledore asked another question, "Did they give their names?"

Flippantly, Merry answered. "Voldie and Wormie."

The three wizards blinked. The Aurors looked puzzled but, slowly, a broad grin was making its way on Dumbledore's face.

"Voldie, indeed," he chuckled. "What a delicious nickname. I have no doubt Lord Voldemort would hate it."

Conrad and Derek gasped then. Derek recovered first and confronted Dumbledore, "Is that why you've asked me to put wards on this house?"

"Impossible."

"My source has told me the same tale than them," Dumbledore explained patiently. "The Ministry of Magic may want to revise their opinion. Harry Potter is not the only one to have seen Voldemort since his return anymore."

"You-Know-Who is dead!" Conrad said adamant. "And the Potter boy is crazy. It was in the Daily Prophet."

Gimli intervened, "I know who?"

The tension between the three wizards could be cut with a knife but Dumbledore remained calm. He turned to answer Gimli's question.

"Lord Voldemort is a Dark Lord who killed hundreds of Muggles and of wizards during his first rise to power, until fourteen years ago. I have all the reasons to believe the Riddles were his first victims. Most wizards are afraid to call him by his name. They prefer to say You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or simply the Dark Lord. His followers are called the Death Eaters."

"Wouldn't not using his true name scare people even more?" Sam asked. "I mean, if you don't know what you're facing, wouldn't you be more scared?"

"Yeah," Pippin added. "You're giving him even more power. It's not like the darkness is so great that it hurts to say his name. And what's up with dark lords and changing names?"

The darkness is so great that it hurts?, Boromir repeated mentally. Oh, Little Ones, what has happened after my passing? You never should have had to know these things. Meanwhile, silence had fallen in the room as realisation dawned on Pippin. What he and Sam had said was right but Phil had no reason to know of these things. He tried to cover up for his mistake.

"It's like Darth Vader in Star Wars, the movie, you know? He changed names when he turned to the dark side."

The wizards didn't seem to be falling for it. Pippin needed another diversion. Boromir searched his mind despairingly for another appropriate subject.

"Who is Harry Potter?" Gimli blurted out. Thank the Valar. Arguing with the elf had apparently given Gimli a quick wit. Perhaps I should get into a pissing contest with Legolas, too. Never know when these skills could come at hand.

For a time, nobody answered. Finally, Conrad and Derek turned towards Gimli but Dumbledore was still eying Pippin.

"Harry Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived," Derek said. "Nearly fourteen years ago, You-Know-Who killed his parents. But when he tried to kill the baby, he was vanquished. Nobody quite knows how. From this encounter, the boy only kept a scar on his forehead. He is very famous for that even if he is still in school. The school where Albus is Headmaster, to be exact. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Speaking of him, Dumbledore had shifted his focus from Pippin to Aragorn. Aragorn was staring back at him with steely eyes. Thankfully, the old man was slightly behind the two Aurors and they hadn't noticed any of his little games until now.

"The newspapers say he is nuts," added Conrad. "He is trying to be interesting, becoming the fourth champion at the Tri-Wizard tournament, befriending half-giants and complaining from phantom pains from his scar." Beside Boromir, Frodo flinched. The other hobbits glowered at Conrad and closed ranks around their friends. Sam looked fit to kill. Once again, Boromir wondered what had happened after his death.

"Never mind Harry Potter for now," Dumbledore said softly. But the twinkle in his eyes had been replaced by ire. "No matter what the papers say, the poor boy never asked for this attention. He never asked for any of the attention he has." Damn! The old man was angry on behalf of the boy and now Boromir could feel the power he wielded. He had to stop himself from taking a step back. Unassuming at first sight and then he drops a bombshell at your doorstep. Really reminiscent of Gandalf. Conrad looked as if he wished for a chasm to open beneath his feet. After a moment, Dumbledore calmed down and turned back towards the Fellowship. A couple of minutes passed in silence. At least this little outburst of power had allowed time for the hobbits to cool their anger towards Conrad.

"Voldemort spoke of souls. What did he say precisely?"

This time, Aragorn answered.

"Voldemort..."

"Do not use this name," Conrad growled. He was still shaking slightly but did not seem to know when to quit. That was very annoying. Fear and denial had never helped anyone resolve a situation. Aragorn too would probably snap at him and …smile sweetly at him? That's going to be good. The last time the son of Denethor had seen that particular sugar coated smile, the elf had been wearing it and five minutes later, the dwarf had found his smoking weed stash spoiled by pointed-eared squirrels.

"As you wish. Does Voldie suit you better?" Aragorn asked innocently. Conrad could only stand gaping at him. "No objections? Voldie first said he didn't have a soul anymore then he asked us if we knew where souls were coming from. He spoke of a new curse he had created and he cast it on us. I believe he said 'Priori spiriti reversio'."

Conrad opened his mouth again but Derek sent him a "keep quiet" look. A little late, but it was still a good decision.

"I felt as if I was pulled out of my body and I think I screamed. We all did. Suddenly, we were back into our bodies. And then you know the rest." Well, technically, Aragorn hadn't lied. They had just recovered some memories along the way, fact he could have covered by forgetting to specify the meaning of 'we' as reincarnated souls from ages past.

"Thank Merlin it didn't work," said Derek. "As if the Death Eaters needed another killing curse. Well, I believe this is all. Thank you for your collaboration." He took out his wand.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Merry shouted. Automatically, Boromir put himself in front of the hobbits and Gimli and Aragorn dropped into fighting stances. For the first time, the Aurors seemed to notice their surrounded position and paled. Green, these men are green. I never had the luxury of making these mistakes. At least they realise they don't have the time to take all of us down.

"I believe there is a misunderstanding somewhere," Derek finally said. He was making efforts to appear calm and collected. Green but he has good nerves. He could have been good if he had some experience to back him. As to Conrad, he wasn't making any effort to control himself. If he had had the time to take his wand and curse them all, he would have. Dumbledore was merely looking …amused? Boromir mentally shook his head. That's not courage under fire but pure madness. "It is standard procedure to cast a memory charm on the Muggles who learn the truth about wizards. It's for security, you see. We were not about to attack you. Surely you do not want to preserve these memories?"

"Why not?" Gimli asked.

"Well," Derek seemed to be really thinking about this. "Muggles who learn the existence of magic by accident tend to panic and they all want to provoke a witch hunt. True wizards have ways to defend themselves but innocent Muggles who are suspected of being wizards do not. During past witch- hunts, those were the ones who were burned alive. This policy seeks to avoid this kind of slaughter."

"We are not panicking," said Aragorn. Strangely, he was looking at Dumbledore, not at Derek.

"I can see that," the old man answered. "Wallace, I think for this time, these Muggles can keep their memories. They will give us their word not to talk about this to anyone. After all, Muggle-born students talk about Hogwarts to their parents and close friends and they do not provoke a witch hunt, do they?"

Derek considered the question and lowered slowly his wand. "Well, gentlemen, do we have your word of honour not to talk about what you've discovered to other Muggles?"

"Mister Derek? I don't think we're Muggles," Pippin noted.

"We are not?" Aragorn, surprised, had tensed at these words.

"Well, we four aren't, anyway," Merry said, pointing towards the four hobbits. What are they talking about? "You see, when we were eleven, we've received a letter from a school of magic in the States by owl. We just chose not to go. It went out of our minds but the point is we already knew about the wizarding world. And if we had gone, we would have told our friends."

Jaws dropped in astonishment throughout the room. They had been one inch away from a fight that didn't even have a point because the kids knew? Dumbledore recovered first and chuckled slightly. A mischievous glint was in his eyes when he turned towards the hobbits.

"I have this project that might interest you. I always found it was a shame that wizard schools only send their enrolment letter once. Those who refuse to go the first time do not have the choice anymore if they ever have a change of heart. I want to change that. Would you be willing to spend a year at Hogwarts to learn to use your powers?"

That was an unexpected development.

"Yes." Boromir blinked.

"Adam? That question was addressed to the kids. You can't reply for them."

"Sorry. But you really should take this opportunity. In my humble opinion, of course." Humble opinion?, Boromir thought, disbelieving. The blood of Numenor flowed in Aragorn's veins and he had been raised by Elrond, the Loremaster of Rivendell. He did not do humble opinion.

He did foresight. Wait a minute. Since when do I trust him so much?

"Oh."

Pause.

"We are accepting your offer, then, Professor Dumbledore." The hobbits, as well as Boromir, might not understand the reasoning behind Aragorn's suggestion but they trusted him. In the end, that's all that mattered to make the decision.

Derek seemed to be satisfied by this turn of the events and tucked back his wand into his belt. With a look, he urged Conrad not to take his out while Gimli and Aragorn took place besides their friends near the bed. Gimli had a slightly sardonic look in his eyes when he passed beside Conrad. The Auror flushed red but didn't say anything. Good. He's learning.

"Good. I have a last question then. This is a really important matter for … some people I know and for myself." Dumbledore looked at each of them to make them understand the seriousness of his request. The twinkle was gone from the light blue eyes. Instead, they had taken a hard glint. "Could you identify the man who was accompanying Voldemort? Wormtail?"

"I think so," answered Pippin. The others nodded or grunted their agreement.

"Here are some wizard pictures. Will you please point the man you saw to the Aurors?"

He took out some photos from his robe. Shrugging, the Fellowship shared the pictures and started looking. They had two pictures each. Stunned, Boromir saw the man on his first picture move and give him the bird. Interesting character. He looked at the second photo. As on the first, the man was blond but neither were Wormtail.

"I think I've got him," Frodo said quietly. He was looking at a wedding picture. The groom and the bride – pretty redhead – were lost in each other's eyes. Besides them, three young men of the same age were laughing, wolf-whistling and making gagging faces. The smallest one was Wormtail.

"He didn't have a silver hand, then," Gimli noted.

"You have identified a Death Eater? Which one is it?" Derek asked.

Frodo gave him the photo. The reaction was immediate. Derek sucked in a breath and turned angrily towards Dumbledore.

"Sirius Black!" he hissed. "Professor Dumbledore, I understand your attachment for the Potter boy but we are doing all we can to capture again You-Know-Who's right hand. There is no need to remind us of that situation. This time, we will not lock him up but immediately put him down like the … the monster he is," Interesting. The little blond hadn't seemed to be able to do as much damage as Derek's enraged tone implied. Well, looks could be deceiving.

"Wallace." Dumbledore's voice sounded patient but there was a command in his eyes. "If you would let our guests indicate the man they saw, the situation will become clearer."

"Very well, Professor. For the sake of our friendship, I will do this. But you will stop pushing the Ministry's limits." He turned towards Boromir and snapped "Which one?"

The son of Denethor called upon the reserves of patience he had managed to acquire in both his lives to try to answer civilly. It still wasn't much but he didn't bite Derek's head off. "The blond," he answered curtly.

Derek's anger turned to confusion.

"Pettigrew? But Black killed him."

"Sirius always claimed his innocence, Wallace. It could have been proven if there had been a trial." Just how high were the tensions to imprison an innocent man? Boromir wondered. Prior his departure for Rivendell, his father had executed a man for treason. The man had tried to help the Easterlings to reap the benefits of Gondor's fall but that wasn't the true reason of his death. The people were afraid and had needed a scapegoat so the Steward had given them one. Had this man not been caught, Denethor would have found another scapegoat to ease the tensions. Would he have condemned an innocent?

"He was the Potters' Secret Keeper and they died. Explain to me how he can be innocent," Derek demanded.

"The Potters changed Secret Keeper at the last minute. But I am not asking you to clear his name without further proofs. I am asking you to tell the Ministry that Pettigrew is alive, working for Voldemort and thus that Sirius cannot have killed him. Sirius Black should not be killed on sight," Dumbledore insisted.

"Albus! I do not have the authority to change these orders and you need more proof than a few Muggles' word. How can we be so sure the wizard they met was not only impersonating You-Know-Who? Considering the Death Eaters' resurgence of activity this summer, I wouldn't put it past them to do this to scare us," Derek argued.

"You also have Mr Potter, Weasley and Lupin's word as well as Miss Granger's and mine."

"Most people think that you're crazy and your other witnesses are three children and a werewolf!"

"I will accompany you to the Ministry to speak of this." Dumbledore proposed. "The Minister will not be able to hide for much longer. Voldemort is going to strike soon and we need to be ready for him."

"Fudge will not believe you. And I'm not sure if I do."

Dumbledore did not present another argument. Exasperated, Derek threw up his arms in defeat and turned away from him. The old wizard let the Auror throw his temper tantrum and resumed speaking.

"Anyway, I will have to go there to tell them I have new students. But, as for you," he was addressing Aragorn, Bruce and Gimli, "I don't know yet what I am going to do with you."

"Do you have a self-defence class?" Gimli asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore seemed surprised. So were Aragorn and Boromir. Well, it is a good idea, Boromir conceded. And it will allow us to stay with the kids.

"A self-defence class. How to duck, to fall without hurting oneself, to fight bare-handed or even how to cut one's losses and run like hell. We could teach that. Your people sound like they are going to need it."

"An intriguing and generous idea."

"A selfish idea, Professor. They are staying with us no matter what. Say yes. It'll spare you trouble. You don't want to know at what lengths they could go to track us down, magic or no magic," Merry broke in cheerfully.

"And they are really good in a fight. Greg is former military and Adam and Bruce are cops." Pippin added. "If you want the best to teach your students how to defend themselves, you should say yes. From what I've seen, you wizards need wands to do magic. If one of your students lose theirs or do not have time to take it out, they still wouldn't be defenceless." Derek and Conrad tensed at these words but Pippin ignored them and kept talking. "And we really would like to stay together, so if you say no, Frank, Sean, Matt and me will just… Yes?" At Frodo's nudge, Pippin had stopped talking.

"Phil, I believe the Professor is trying to answer." Frodo warned, grinning. He then raised an amused eyebrow at Sam who addressed Dumbledore. "If you say no, we'll give you hell. You were saying?"

"Yes."

"We can cause a lot of trouble, just ask Bruce. Are you sure about this yes?" Pippin paused. "Yes?"

"I believe that is what I said." Dumbledore replied, chuckling.

"YES!" The hobbits were grinning like fools and they danced around the three older men. The latter merely shook their heads at these antics but they were grinning too.

"This is settled then, I will bring you all to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "I wonder how Severus will react. Muggles teaching at a wizarding school." He chuckled.

"I can think of half a dozen points to argue it's a bad idea but you are not going to listen, are you?" Derek remarked. When Dumbledore opened his mouth to answer, the younger man simply shook his head. The Headmaster had made up his mind. For the Auror, it meant that trying to influence his decision would be an exercise in futility. Boromir found himself pitying him. He was trying to do his job and the old man was not making it any easier for him.

"Well, the Aurors and I should be going. But I think it would be wiser if you waited for me in the gardens, far from the nurses. I never imagined a mix of potions could have had this particular effect. What did you use?" The old man asked the hobbits.

Merry waved the question away, "Not much, you know. A little of this, a little of that."

"The young Weasley twins would have loved to see this. Anyway, do you need anything before we leave?"

Gimli grunted and shook his head and the two cops shrugged. That left the hobbits with a speculative look in their eyes. Finally, Pippin turned to answer.

"Food?"

####

The gardens behind St Mungo's Hospital could not have been called gardens by any modern Muggle's standards, had one even been able to contemplate them. These grounds would rather have been called a park. A massive park full of shimmering flowers, statues, fountains and covered in places by copses of trees. Several alleys lined by Japanese cherry trees crossed the so-called gardens, meandered and intersected with each other before going their own way again. But sooner or later, by a longer or a shorter path, they all led to the top of a mound in the centre of the gardens to encircle a large fountain ornamented by the statue of a giant hippocampus. It was there, away from the personal from the hospital, that Dumbledore left the reborn mortals of the Fellowship to announce to the Ministry of Magic their admission among the teaching Staff and the students of Hogwarts. The Headmaster didn't think this decision would be contested. Apparently, he had free rein at the school.

But the gardens were not only a place where the Fellowship would be safe from the nurses' revenge. It was also a place where they could talk freely.

So, talk they did. Well, they tried at first.

"Aragorn, what were you playing at with Dumble…"

"How dangerous do you think getting involv…"

"Does anyone know how we can be here in the flesh?"

"Where do you think Gandalf and Legol…"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

At Gimli's impressive bellow, all fell silent. Aragorn and Boromir shared a look and eyed Gimli suspiciously. Eventually, the former King of the Reunified Kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor expressed the thought that had been plaguing them since this morning.

"You're tall."

"And they dare to say dwarves have a way with the obvious. Aragorn, you and Boromir have been staring at me like I've grown a second head. I'm taller. So are the hobbits. Yet, I don't see you looking at them like that."

"I suppose we don't. But…" Boromir paused. He couldn't find the words to express his discomfort. Instead he shook his head.

"But?" Gimli growled impatiently. "I have spent 36 years in this body. I am used to it. So should you be."

"Gimli," Aragorn began to say, "These hobbits are among the bravest and most valorous people I've ever met. I know they can do well in any situation because they are who they are. Their current height does not change that. But you, my friend, you were a dwarf. You looked like a dwarf, you talked like a dwarf and you acted like a dwarf. And dwarves are just… not tall," he finished lamely.

Gimli stared disbelievingly at him.

"In other words, Men perceived Dwarves like immovable objects," Pippin explained, amused and smug. "They are about this tall, they have a beard, an axe, and they like good ale, earth and stone. They are not tall. On the other hand, Hobbits are irresistible forces."

"Irresistible forces?" Boromir snorted. "Do not flatter yourself, Master Peregrin Took. Personally, I would use the terms 'highly adaptable little critters'."

"Well, Master Boromir, I will have you know you are insulting a guard of the White Tower."

"And as such, you owe respect and obedience to the son of one Steward and the brother of another." Aragorn interjected.

"You become a guard? And Faramir was steward?" These were news to Boromir. He turned to Aragorn. "What happened after my death?"

"We won."

Boromir waited expectantly for further explanations. When none came, he sighed, crossed his arms and growled sarcastically, "Aragorn. You were a man. You still are a man. Will you please stop acting like an elf?"

"I was raised by elves, Boromir." The Ranger defended himself. "I am bound to speak like one from time to time."

"You did not only speak like an elf. You deliberately gave me an answer that would infuriate me. That's acting like an elf."

"He has a point," Merry pointed out to his other companions. "It's just like old times, don't you think?"

"What old times? Adam and Bruce still bicker like that," Pippin snickered slightly. It was true. Yesterday, none of them might have remembered their past lives but they still owned the same souls and the same personalities. And Aragorn and Boromir's personalities had … clashed, especially at the beginning of their association. Eventually, they had become good friends but Boromir had died not long afterwards. Bruce and Adam had had more time to be friends. They had learned to resolve their disputes and to obtain what they wanted from the other.

Thus, Boromir managed to hear what had happened during the War of the Ring and afterwards, the joyful or sad events of his friend's lives. But at first, the most important for him was to learn that Gondor had been saved. It didn't matter that he would never see the White Tower of Ecthelion again. More than his home or his duty, more than his whole life, Minas Tirith had been the symbol of the strength of Men. And the strength of Men had not failed before darkness.

Aragorn's story finished at his death after 120 years of rule as the High King of the Reunified Lands of Arnor and Gondor and Boromir turned to Frodo and Sam. The two ringbearers had sailed to Valinor so he had not heard what had become of them.

"I went to the Undying Lands, healed and I waited for Sam and Legolas to arrive," Frodo answered, smiling. "Sam and I led a calm life. The only exciting event was Gimli's arrival with Legolas. Actually, he is the most long-lived of us all."

Everyone beside Sam, Frodo and Gimli were surprised. "Gimli?"

As if the idea of one dwarf in Valinor was not preposterous enough, the same dwarf had an explanation about the state of their souls. He put it rather succinctly.

"It's the elf's fault."

In fact, Gandalf too had his share of responsibility. It would seem the Valar and Ilúvatar himself had granted that 'their fellowship, forged in darkness to defeat it and true to each other even in death' stay together for eternity. Both Gandalf and Legolas were immortal and bound to Arda. As long as Arda existed, they would remain there. After its end, the elf and the Istari would be allowed to follow their friends beyond the circles of this world. Meanwhile, the mortals would stay on Earth, in the same circles, to stay close to their friends. Blaming Legolas was then strangely accurate. Because of him and Gandalf, their fellowship still belonged to this world.

And if they still belonged to this world, no matter how changed it was since the Third Age of Middle-Earth, it meant that Legolas and Gandalf were still alive. The fellowship only had to find them.

"That's easier said than done," Frodo commented.

None of them had noticed the existence of the magical world before this day. If wizards could pass unnoticed in the Muggle world, so could the elves in the magical world. But that thought already supposed the elves had left Valinor. The fellowship would rather not linger on the possibility they hadn't.

"They could run into us some day and recognize us," Sam wondered wishfully.

"Or we could give them a hand," Aragorn said. "I have the impression this is not the first time we are reborn. The current history makes no mention of Middle Earth. It could have been dozens of thousand years since the Third Age. Somehow, I don't think we spent all that time bodiless. This time, we have our memories so we could make them look for us."

"And how do you suggest this, master Aragorn?" Gimli asked dubiously. "Publish an ad in the newspapers? Reborn souls from the end of Third Age looking for wood-elves and Istari?"

"It's a start but I imagined a message more discreet. After all, we do not want Voldemort to know his curse worked," Aragorn answered.

Boromir bit back his next comment. From what he had heard about the situation among the wizards, Voldemort was a problem. The authorities of this world refused to believe in his return, which left him plenty of openings to gather his forces and to make his first move. He did not know a lot about wizards and their abilities yet, but he knew that kind of man was dangerous. If he had killed hundreds of people the last time before being stopped, he would do so again and maybe do even more damages. The only other Dark Lords Boromir had ever heard about were Morgoth and Sauron and they had … killed more than a few hundred people given enough time. The official authorities did seem to deny this threat, which made Dumbledore the only known opponent to Voldmort, the only one trying to stop him.

"So, what do you think of Dumbledore?" he asked eventually.

A thoughtful look crossed Aragorn's grey eyes and he stared behind him, towards the spot in which the old man had stood before disapparating. At long last, he answered.

"He is trying to protect his students but first and foremost, he is trying to stop Voldemort. By letting us teach self-defence at his school he expects to accomplish these two goals. He knows something is up with us and seeks to keep us away from the dark wizard."

"You can't be sure of that," Sam said.

"Can you be sure of the contrary?" Aragorn shot back. Sam opened his mouth to answer but thought better of it. He sighed and conceded the point.

"He knows," Frodo agreed. "He knew more than the Aurors about the situation when he entered the room and we may have confirmed his guesses."

"I think we can trust him," Aragorn resumed. "Up to a point, anyway. If he asks what happened, we shouldn't lie but there is no need to extend too much on our past lives. We helped defeat an evil and we do not want to see another take its place in this life. That's why we proposed our help. Objections?"

The others shook their head.

There was only one subject left. If they were going to Hogwarts for one year, they had arrangements to make. The hobbits wouldn't have any problems as they had taken a sabbatical year. They only needed to warn their family and relations about the change of plans. As to Gimli, he decided he too would take a sabbatical year. After all, a dwarf's loyalties lay first with his friends and family and Gregory Morrison had no family. These days, he was mostly working like a researcher and so wouldn't cause too much trouble leaving. Those who knew him were aware that Doctor Morrison was a wanderer at heart and wouldn't be worried by his abrupt departure.

Boromir and Aragorn's situation was more problematic. They were cops and by leaving so suddenly, they could very well lose their jobs. Still, they curiosity about the magical world and their sense of duty and honour would not let them leave innocent people unprotected when evil was afoot. Other cops could take their places in the States, they were needed here. This sense of right and duty was why Aragorn had become a Ranger and why Boromir had kept fighting battles he knew he would eventually lose if nothing changed.

But they weren't so keen on leaving their family and future family. Actually, former family. The people in question wouldn't take well to being left behind either.

"You know, when the Valar spoke of our 'fellowship, forged in darkness to defeat it and true to each other even in death', they could have said they weren't talking only about us," Gimli complained conversationally.

"It makes you wonder who else is out there," Merry added.

Once their thoughts had turned towards their friends, the fellowship had quickly realised that Arwen, Eowyn, Faramir and Eomer had accompanied them in their current life.

And as the seven Walkers had retained their personality, so had their friends. Indeed, Frodo was still interested in lore and history; Sam the gardener was studying botany; Merry and Pippin, the terrible mischief-makers, were studying chemistry, boldly experimenting with all they could get their hands onto. Gimli still loved the earth and the stones as his geology PhD proved. Adam had hesitated between becoming a doctor and a cop but in the end, the desire to protect innocents had won out and he entered the police academy. He and Boromir were cops, as was Eomer. His current identity was Eric Fieldsman, another vice cop. Boromir's brother, Faramir had been forced to become a warrior by the circumstances but this time, Forest Ward was a scholar. Still, for his security, Boromir had made sure that his history professor of a brother could defend himself bare handed and that he could use a gun. Apparently, Boromir had also kept his protective streak. Eomer's sister, alias Forest's current girl and Faramir's former wife Eowyn went by the name of Erin. She still enjoyed a good challenge and she was a surgeon, a profession where women were a minority. And as Matt/Merry had once commented, she could also 'kick ass'. A black belt in martial arts could do that to people. As to Arwen, she was Alice, Adam's lady doc who worked for the same hospital as Eowyn. She was Adam's fiancée.

At this thought, Aragorn couldn't help but let a smile light up his face. Although Arwen had renounced her elven heritage, Aragorn hadn't been sure they would be allowed to stay together after their death. After all, only one other she-elf had ever been lost for the Eldar and Lúthien had realised extraordinary accomplishments to be allowed a mortal's fate and follow her love. Aragorn had never spoken of this aloud but it had been his greatest fear. Now he could lay it to rest.

"I have not seen a grin that goofy since the first time he married the Evenstar," Pippin commented.

Immediately, Aragorn tried to protest, offended, "I do not grin goofily."

"Yes, you do. You're still doing it, furthermore," Boromir teased.

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No,…"

"If I have been absent so long that you need to resort to means of entertaining even my third years do not use anymore, I will have to apologise," an amused voice behind Aragorn said suddenly.

At once, the Ranger rolled forward and turned to face the newcomer in a crouch. Dumbledore gazed tranquilly back at him with his mischievous eyes.

Aragorn looked at his watch. It was nearly three o'clock. The old man had been gone a little more than three hours.

"You are not sorry and they can be even more immature than that," Frodo said, smiling. "There is no need to apologize."

"I won't then," Dumbledore replied with a smile.

"When can we learn to apparate?" Pippin asked with a hint of awe. "You have no idea how hard it is to take Adam by surprise."

"No, I don't have any idea, do I? And this is why I'm asking you if you're sure to want to come to Hogwarts. The Aurors are gone and your minibus is at the front of the hospital. If you want to leave now, you will do so with all your memories."

Thrown off guard, the fellowship did not reply immediately, allowing Dumbledore to finish meaningfully, "And your secrets, of course."

"And if we still want to come?" Boromir asked. The old man's body language was still conveying calm and benevolence but the look in his eyes was resolute.

"Then, I want the truth. Something happened when Voldemort cast that spell. My source was adamant about this."

"I see. Well, it's your show, partner." Boromir bowed mockingly to Aragorn.

The Ranger sighed and studied once again the old wizard, "Fine, I'll give you the truth. But tell me something first. Priori spiriti reversio. What does this exactly mean?"

Dumbledore looked puzzled by this question but considered it thoughtfully, "Words do not always reflect the effects of a spell, especially if it is new. At first, it's the intent that counts. Choosing more precise words simply reduce the cost in energy, making the spell easier to cast."

"Humour me, then," Aragorn insisted. "My Latin is a little rusty."

Dumbledore nodded, "Reversio means either restoration or return. Priori, previous and spiriti means spirit or soul. Together, these words could mean 'return to the previous state of your soul'. Lord Voldemort intended to send your souls back from whence they came and from there I suppose he would have sought a way to control souls."

"He failed then," Aragorn stated. He took a more formal expression and resumed, "But the spell worked in some way. It restored our memories from our previous lives. My name is Adam Dawson but ages past, I was Aragorn, son of Arathorn. I am in your debt, my Lord, for your discretion in front of the Aurors and the opportunity you're offering us at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with wonder, "Reborn souls?"

"Stranger things have happened, I'm sure." Following Aragorn's lead, Boromir introduced himself, "Boromir, son of Denethor. I too offer my gratitude for your assistance."

"Gimli, son of Gloin," he bowed. "At your service."

"Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo who was himself son of… I'll pass on the genealogy for now," he added quickly at Boromir's groan. "Thank you, anyway."

"Samwise Gamgee. My friends call me Sam. Pleased to meet you."

"Pergrin Took, Pippin and…", he was timely interrupted by Merry.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck, Merry and we're …charmed to meet you," he said with a smirk.

Dumbledore chuckled. "You knew each other and you are bound together. Of course. That would explain some things."

"Explain which things?" Frodo asked curiously.

"My source saw threads binding each of you to the others when Voldemort cast that spell."

"Well, actually, ours are not the only souls bound," Aragorn said. "We have some friends that we will have to contact about this, if it can be done."

"It will be done," the old man affirmed. "Allow an old man to indulge in his curiosity but how came you to be bound?"

The fellowship shared a look and decided to let Aragorn handle the question. "In our previous life, there was this great evil that threatened to destroy the world as we knew it; we somewhat helped to vanquish it. As a reward, it would seem the powers that ruled our world decided we should be allowed to stay together."

"I have heard many claims of reincarnation but this is the first time I hear about higher powers," Dumbledore commented.

"The Valar's will was leaving our lands even in our time. They had decided that this world belonged to its children. Most men didn't believe in them anymore. By now, I imagine they have been completely forgotten by mankind. They left us free to choose what we would make of this world and personally, I can not stand idly where there is evil afoot."

Dumbledore smiled," I believe you. But you are still not telling me everything. Never mind. If I need to know, I trust you will inform me. But how did you vanquish this evil?"

"This Dark Lord had great powers but had been forced to rely on an object to be anchored in this world. He lost his ring along some of his powers and it fell into our hands. In short, we went on aquest with two other friends to destroy the ring. Some people took objections and we were eventually separated," Aragorn paused.

"Sam and I continued the quest to destroy the ring while they… What did you do anyway?" Frodo understood Aragorn's need for secrecy and so could not say that his friend had reclaimed his kingdom.

"We met interesting people and made diversion," Aragorn replied.

"Diversion? Guys, one day, we are going to around a table and compare our definitions," Merry broke in, disgusted. "What we did was to take part in these huge battles with swords, spears and all sorts of weapons to…"

"Keep the Dark Lord from looking their way," Gimli interrupted with a remarkable sense of timing, pointing to Sam and Frodo. "Basically, we made diversion."

"I see," Dumbledore's eyes were laughing at their antics. He had formed the impression Aragorn was a master of understatements. "Well, I guess experienced warriors such as yourselves would be qualified to teach young people how to survive in dangerous situations, then."

"How can you be sure you can trust us?" Sam wondered, playing the devil's advocate.

The mischievous glint in the old man's eyes came back with revenge. "Have you ever met servants of evil that bickered like children and played practical jokes? I rest my case."

At these words, the seven companions stood gaping before bursting into laughter. No, they could not see Sauron, Saruman, Grima or any orc acting this way. Dumbledore was an excellent judge of characters even if his methods were somewhat unorthodox.

"So, how are we going to Hogwarts?" Boromir asked once he had his laughter under control.

"You do not know how to apparate. And anyway, nobody can apparate inside Hogwarts. I suppose we shall have to go to Hogsmeade through the Floo-Network and then arrange accommodations from there. But that's not our first destination."

Surprised, Pippin asked, "Where are we going, then?"

Dumbledore replied with a chuckle, "Do not tell me you expect to go to school without any furniture," he chided with humour. "We'll find books, robes, quills and wands at Diagon Alley. We are going shopping."

####

To be continued.

Next chapter is at Hogwarts and we catch up with Harry: Divination class, N.E.W.T.'s and is Dumbledore really bringing Muggles to Hogwarts?

####

A little A/N and a rec for another story. If you want to know which other definitions, the fellowship would have to discuss, there is the word shelter. Look up Thundera Tiger's While the Ring Went South. It's about the missing scenes, well, days of the book and Thundera Tiger is one of the best writers you can find.

Thanks to all the reviewers. I'm glad you like the plot because I'm still in the introductive part of the story. I know that part should have ended with the prologue but I started with the meeting of the Fellowship with Voldemort and now I'm explaining how they got here. Now, the pace will speed up. You can expect lots of other twists and turns before the end of this story.

About Legolas not being able to do magic, I only have one thing to say for myself (with an ominous voice): I have Plans. But rest assured that elf is more than able to take care of himself, even in the magical world.

The books never talked much about Arwen except in the Annexes. That's not enough for me to make an opinion on a character but the romantic in me is drawn to the fact she died for Aragorn. Expect to see her now and then but not that often. She is not on my list of main characters.

If I don't change my outline, the mortals of the Fellowship will meet Harry and co. before Legolas. But not by much. And they will all meet by chapter five if I don't have something new to add in between.

Cheysuli: about elves and house-elves. In my fic, the house-elves are not related to the elves of Tolkien. Still, they do seem a little hobbit-like don't you think? Small, can come and go unnoticed and easily kept happy. Furthermore, I do not know what became of the Shire. Thanks for the idea, I will dig into it. But not right now and not in this story.

What do the elves think of house-elves? Well I'll start by saying the man who gave the house-elves their name is lucky to be already dead. Elves are a touchy lot about pride and angry elves could do a lot of damage in the Silmarillion. Pride aside, I don't think elves support slavery. But that's the affairs of Men and the elves do not intervene – much – in these matters. But I'm sure some currently unnamed elves are digging into the origins of house-elves because they have these highly troubling sugar-coated smiles on their lips when house-elves are mentioned in front of them. You know, that kind of smile so sweet you find yourself wondering whether you're diabetic and need insulin. That kind of smile that makes me suspect they are planning something but they aren't telling what. Yet.

I will try to keep them away from Hermione and of S.P.E.W. but I fear it is a lost cause. Speaking of it; I've always wondered whether Rowling has ever heard about F.L.N.J. It's a French association, 'le Front de Libération des Nains de Jardin'. Literally, it means the Front of Liberation of Garden Dwarves. Some years back, they have 'freed' many dwarves. After reflection, Gimli would rather be the one interested.