Scars of the Future

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, both Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. Theywere created by the amazing minds of J.K. Rowling and J.R.R. Tolkien.

A/N: This fic was not created by myself alone. It was done inscript format over Instant Messenger by myself and Animagus-Spirit. This fic and most of the events in it are her brilliant ideas, I have just taken the task to write it. Therefore, this fic is dedicated to her. I would also like to thank my beta, Inwe Telemnar. You guys are the greatest!

To my reviewers:

Animagus-Spirit-Thanks for the review, but I still think you give me way too much credit than you give yourself. Here's the next chapter, even though you've already read it…

Arwentheelf-Constructive criticism is always welcome. You won't have to wait too long for some action, but I agree that this fic does start out rather slowly. Stay with me!

Estel-rules- Sorry if I disappoint you, but this fic will be shipless. It was originally going to be some sort of romance, but it didn't fit the storyline so it was cut….here's the next bit!

Infallallthingsaremadesplended-Glad you like it, keep reading!

Almadynis-Here's the next chapter. I'll try to keep the intervals between chapters relatively short, but no promises here…lol.

Inwe Telemnar-Hannon Le! Thanks as always for beta-ing!

Chapter 2: Preceding Departure

Sam kissed his wife lovingly. "We'll be back before you know we've left," he said, trying to make the situation seem as natural as if they were only going to Buckland.

Rose smiled through her tears. "Try to, at least, and be careful, Sam. Don't do anything too stout."

He chuckled slightly. "Aye, dear, but that's not me job anyway." He looked at Frodo meaningfully.

Frodo rolled his eyes, and pecked Rosie on the cheek. "I will look after him, Rose, you needn't worry."

She laughed. "Somethin' tells me it'll be the other way around, Mr. Frodo."

They stood outside the gate at Bag End in the early morning, five days after Gandalf had come, ready to depart. Presently, Sam kissed each of his children, telling them all to mind their mother and help her look after things. He kissed Rose again, then mounted his pony (Bill the 3rd) alongside Frodo and rode off down the lane, both hobbits turning to wave when they crested a small hill.

Sam sighed; to Frodo, it held a note of sadness.

"I did not ask you to come with me, Sam. You could go back and stay with your family."

Sam shook his head quickly. "No, sir," he said firmly. "There's nothin' that's going to keep me from bein' with you when you might need me. I don't like the ring of this 'future', and this talk of a new Dark Lord." He glanced quickly at Frodo. "No, Mr. Frodo, beggin' your pardon, but it doesn't sound quite right to me."

Frodo nodded. "I know, Sam, I feel somewhat the same way. I am glad you're with me, though…"

"What?"

"Nothing, Sam." He looked away, and they continued in silence.

"So, what do you suppose the Shire looks like in this future?"

"How do we even know there will still be a Shire, Pip?"

"Why shouldn't there be, Merry? I mean, maybe it will be much different, but it'll still be here, right?"

"I suppose so."

"I mean, if there's no - Frodo!"

Merry and Pippin both stood up from their positions on the garden bench outside of Brandy Hall, and hurriedly went to greet their cousin and his gardener.

"Hello, Frodo! Sam! Good to see both of you!" Merry said.

"And you both as well!" said Frodo, dismounting from his pony and embracing his cousins.

Sam took the reins of both ponies. "Hullo, Mr. Merry, Mr. Pippin."

"Here, Sam, let me take care of the ponies, you and Frodo go inside with Pippin and have some breakfast." Merry offered, and Sam complied.

Breakfast was delicious; the table was laden with everything from toast to sausages to eggs, and there was plenty to go around. They had been joined by Estella and Diamond, whom they had the pleasure to thank for the glorious meal.

The four hobbits sat in the large parlor afterwards, smoking and discussing Gandalf's strange news.

"I think it will be rather interesting, really," Pippin was saying, "to see what changes will have happened long after we're gone."

"Of course it will be interesting," Merry put in, "but that doesn't mean it won't be dangerous."

Frodo nodded. "Another war…I truly do not like to think that again we shall be involved in this, but I also do not think Gandalf would ask us to do something if it were to be anything like before. However, I too think it would be quite exciting to travel through time, to see what the world has become."

"Aye," Sam added, "I trust Mr. Gandalf, but it still doesn't fit right with me. I'm willin' to go though."

"So, when should we leave?" Merry questioned.

"Gandalf said to leave as soon as possible. If we do not leave tomorrow, then we should leave the day after." Frodo said.

"Day after tomorrow sounds good, that gives us a day to prepare and alert the family." Merry said.

"Right," Pippin said, "that's it then."

They spent the next few days packing and readying to leave on another long journey. They hoped to reach Gondor by the end of June to the beginning of July at the latest, if nothing hindered them, that is.

The night before they were to leave, Frodo tossed and turned in a troubled sleep. Confusing dreams plagued him; dreams he could not remember whenever they caused him to awaken. They were like nothing he had dreamt before; no memories of the Quest, or anything similar. They disturbed and frightened him, and the next morning the dark circles under his eyes made it obvious that he had not slept well, something that was not lost on Sam, though he did not address it.

After a hearty breakfast and several farewells, they set off again. The journey went smoothly, and except for a near run-in with a pack of hungry wolves, they made it to Minas Tirith at a late hour but nonetheless on schedule and nearly unscathed.

Greetings were joyful, the food was delicious, and that night, each hobbit slept soundly. The next morning, they met the rest of the Fellowship on the Citadel, and gathered in a room off of the Hall. Gandalf spoke first.

"Now that we are all here," he began, "more can be explained." He paused, momentarily, then began again. "The Dark Lord, Voldemort, rose back to power in June of last year. The Ministry of Magic has only recently discovered his return to power, though others knew before them. The Order of the Phoenix is the secret society fighting against Voldemort in any way possible, and it is this that is headed by Albus Dumbledore himself. I am well acquainted with several of its other members. The headquarters of the Order is where we will be accommodated, and I ask you all to read this and commit it to memory."

From his cloak he pulled a small piece of paper, and handed it to Aragorn, who read it, and then proceeded to pass it to the others gathered there.

Pippin read it, then furrowed his brow, and read it again. Still puzzled, he read it out loud:

"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."

He looked up. "Couldn't you just tell us this?"

Gandalf shook his head. "No, Peregrin Took, I could not. To find the headquarters of the Order, one must be told the location by Dumbledore." He indicated the paper. "That is it, written in his own hand."

"Oh." Pippin nodded in understanding.

"Gandalf, you said Voldemort rose back to power?"

"Yes, Meriadoc, fifteen years ago he was defeated, but he survived. Since then he tried many ways to rise again, and finally, after failing many times, he succeeded."

"The one you wish me to offer guidance to, this all has something to do with him," Frodo knowingly stated.

"Yes, my dear hobbit, it does. Harry Potter was Voldemort's downfall fifteen years ago, and will be his downfall again. Voldemort killed both of Harry's parents when he was only a year old, but somehow failed to kill Harry, and instead, he himself was defeated, though his spirit lived on, until finally he returned to power," Gandalf explained.

"What do you mean," said Pippin, "his downfall again?"

The wizard nodded solemnly. "It is Harry's fate. There was a prophecy made concerning him and the Dark Lord, which is the reason he tried to kill Harry in the first place. The night Voldemort attempted this, he transferred part of himself to the boy, and since they have had a connection. From this attack Harry bears a scar shaped like a bolt of lightning on his forehead, and also his dark destiny. For, my friends, neither can live while the other survives. Harry himself has recently come to discover this, and it is a burden he now bears. That ," and here he paused and looked directly at Frodo, "and the death of his godfather, Sirius Black. Your guidance Frodo, is needed. In return, however, he will grant you some of his. Together, you can help each other escape from your own darkness."

Frodo looked away, and avoided making eye contact with any of the other Fellowship members.

"Gandalf," Aragorn spoke this time, "what are we to expect when we arrive? What changes will have occurred?"

"I have explained much of it already, to each of you separately as I have had the chance. What is most important though, is that only those with magical abilities know wizards exist anymore. Wizards have evolved, they are not in any way what you see before you. They have no staffs, only wands, small talismans made of wood that they used to cast spells. Their magic is different than my own, where mine is limited in ways that theirs is not. They wear robes and cloaks, though, not always, so as not to arouse suspicion to Muggles, or non-magic beings. There are much more of them than there are now, and some of their powers are fascinating. Here I will not elaborate further, for you will see plenty in time."

There was silence for a while, until Gimli's gruff voice was heard. "Well then," he said, "when are we leavin'?"

"Patience Gimli, we shall depart tonight. All of you must take a strong sleeping draught, and while you sleep you will be taken to our destination. Gather what you need now, you must wear or hold anything you wish to take with you during the process. Meet me here tonight three hours after sunset."

They departed to prepare for the journey, but Aragorn took the wizard aside.

"Gandalf," he said, "are you sure it is right to become involved in this?"

"They need our guidance, Aragorn."

"I did not mean us. I was referring to the hobbits, especially Frodo."

Gandalf looked at the king meaningfully. "Frodo was not forced to do this, I only asked and he agreed. I do not intend for him to become deeply engaged in the direct fate of the world. I asked him to assist indirectly by counseling Harry Potter."

"You have mentioned this boy many times, my friend, but I ask you, what can Frodo do to help him?"

"Frodo and Harry, though it will take them time to realize it, have many things in common."

He left it at that, leaving a perplexed king standing alone in the corridor.

Three hours after sunset, the former Fellowship was again gathered, and within the room had been placed five large beds and an armchair. Each of them carried a small pack filled with necessities, and a preferred weapon, just in case. Gandalf awaited them.

He went to the table a lifted a very long length of rope, one end of which he tied securely around himself. "Bind yourselves together," he said, "so we will not be separated. Then drink the draughts on the table, and lie down. The smaller glasses are for the hobbits."

They did as he told them, two hobbits sharing one bed, as there were not enough for each individual, and the beds were large by hobbit standards anyway. It was not long until sleep took them, which, to Frodo at least, was a good thing. He was beginning to feel a great since of fear, and had clasped Sam's hand tightly, and with his free hand clasped Arwen's jewel.

Gandalf sat in the large armchair, closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. He concentrated intensely, and was soon taken, in both body and mind, many centuries into the future, bringing his companions with him. Though it seemed a quick journey, it had really taken several hours, and by the time they reached the dark street, the sleeping draughts' effects had worn off, and the slumbering members had awoken, albeit drowsily.

TBC