Another chapter, another attempt at an Elden Ring crossover, this one with a different angle. Those following my challenges may know which one this is based off. If not...well, I was inspired by the title Sir Gideon Ofnir has, the All-Knowing. Now, which Potterverse character does that sound like?
This one, as always, has no guarantee of becoming a full fic, but this still seems promising. Character interactions are my strength, and I want to avoid turning it into a glorified playthrough of the game. Plus, it'll be at least some chapters before Harry and company venture forth beyond the Roundtable Hold to the Lands Between proper...and I have a very amusing scene to introduce Ranni to Harry. If this becomes a full fic, you'll see it in action.
VIRTUS ET SCIENTIA
CHAPTER 1:
DEPARTURE
Where stories begin is a tricky thing to determine. Life is not filled with neat and discrete beginnings and endings. Lives and history flow together, in a vast torrent of cause and effect.
Where did it begin, then? On a world where all life sprang forth from a massive tree? When that tree was usurped by a golden parasite that supplanted it? On the fogbound night where two siblings willingly died, sparking a war that would rage over much of the lands on that world? On a night when the child of an archer and a scholar was hit by a well-intentioned spell, sending her to another world?
Or did it begin one night, when a would-be immortal warlock murdered the loving parents of a baby boy, and would have killed him, had it not been for the sacrifice of said baby's mother? Did it begin when that boy learned he was a wizard, and was famous due to his mother's sacrifice protecting him? Did it begin when his nemesis brought himself back from the grave? Or when the boy, now nearly a man, put him back in there? Or perhaps when the boy discovered his foes' legacy? Or when one of his best friends learned of her own heritage?
Every story has a myriad of beginnings, and so, one must find the point to begin. We need not retell the story of the boy's life in any great detail, as it has been told in considerable detail elsewhere. Instead, we will begin at a point some years after this boy, now having reached manhood, had saved his world. And begin the story about how he, along with others, saved another…
"Do you think it's going to work?"
Andromeda Tonks sighed quietly from where she sat in the armchair. "If there's anyone who could make it work, it'd be her. I'll give her this much, I've seen Ravenclaws with less diligence and focus than she does. When she sets her mind to something, nothing can stop her, short of someone using an Unforgivable on her. Honestly, I'm more worried about what the Minister and the Wizengamot will try next."
Harry Potter groaned at the reminder. "Try? They're trying to execute my daughter because of who her parents were, and they're trying to find ways to shove me into Azkaban or have me Kissed or something. I honestly can't blame the Weasleys for heading to Romania. Percy made life for them too difficult ever since he brownnosed his way to the top. I would've thought things would be a little better if Kingsley got in. But Pisspot Pedantic Percy managed to get in because he's even more of a cockroach than Umbridge! And I can't believe I just said that!"
"I know. I've been trying every trick I can to stall them, but public sentiment is fickle, and given that you're defending the daughter of the man who nearly took over Magical Britain…"
"Yeah, well, I should've known better. I should have left this country to rot. Instead, here I am, making plans to leave. If Hermione's ritual doesn't work, then we'll try Australia. At least the Goblins converted enough of our money into stuff we can take around." Harry looked around at the dreary living room. "I honestly can say I won't miss this place."
"Neither will I, and I grew up here," Andromeda said quietly.
Harry nodded. 12 Grimmauld Place had been his residence in the eight years since the fall of Voldemort, but it had never truly felt like a home. Nothing ever did. Hell, lately, Magical Britain in general felt less like a home. Which was why he was going along with this gamble one of his oldest friends was banking on.
The problems began during his brief career in the DMLE. An anonymous tipoff during his rookie years led him to Euphemia Rowle…and the toddler she was looking after. A toddler, he learned, was Delphini Riddle…the child of Tom Riddle, and Bellatrix Lestrange.
He had to admit, at the time, he had mixed feelings about her. Given that she was the daughter of his lifelong nemesis and said nemesis' sadistic lover, who could blame him? But he also knew that this toddler was not evil, not by dint of her birth, anyway.
However, when Harry retrieved her and began making plans to adopt her, that's when the cracks began showing in the victory Harry and his allies had won. He should have realised, given how fickle Magical Britain had been towards him, even before Voldemort usurped the Ministry of Magic. Harry's star began to wane, and after one too many political moves in the DMLE, he quit. He had more than enough money to live off while he raised Delphi.
Someone caught wind of Delphi's heritage, and rumours began to spread, culminating in an exposé run by that bug bitch Rita Skeeter last year. That was a mess to clean up, and it took considerable time and effort to repair his relationship with Delphi. It said a lot when she would rather talk to that weird doll she seemed so fond of than him at the time. And while he managed that, the damage had been done to his reputation with Magical Britain. At least most of his friends and allies stood by him…but those in power were another matter entirely.
The Malfoys surprised nobody by turning on Harry, gratitude being utterly alien to them. The fact that Percy Weasley, now Minister of Magic, turned on them was a little more of a surprise. Not by much, the pompous arse who was a Slytherin in Gryffindor colours had shown himself to be a self-interested bastard, but to turn on his family and those he knew in this particular way was a new low for him.
Harry had been fighting a losing battle, staving off the people trying to bring Delphi into their custody, as well as the edicts being issued to penalise Harry for defying the 'wisdom' of the Ministry of Magic. God, even Dumbledore was wiser than that lot, and the old man basically shaped Harry into a child soldier. With the best of intentions, true, but you know what the road to Hell was paved with.
Thankfully, it made what Hermione was doing a welcome distraction.
Soon after the dust had settled at the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione had admitted something she only learned shortly after the Tri-Wizard Tournament debacle. Her parents had told her she had been adopted. They had found her, abandoned as a baby, and took her in. It wasn't until after the Battle of Hogwarts that she decided to find out who her parents were, via a Heritage Test. It took a lot of negotiating with the Goblins, especially after the break-in (the only thing that mollified the ornery little shits, aside from a fine, was that they were holding a Horcrux in their vaults without their knowledge, and the Lestranges weren't paying the appropriate fees), before she got it done.
She learned her birth name, and her biological parents. But she couldn't find them anywhere in any records. Only Luna's rather off-handed suggestion that they might be from another world gave her any hope. And through a ritual similar to that Hogwarts used to send mail to prospective students, Hermione learned of the where.
Of course, getting there was another matter.
What was originally a side-project became an obsession when her parents died. Hermione's relationship had become strained ever since she Obliviated them and sent them to Australia under new names, but they were then killed by unknown assailants. Officially unknown, anyway. In truth, it was an open secret that someone known to the Malfoys did the deed, proving once and for all that no good deed goes unpunished.
These incidents and more placed a strain on their existing friendships, and while they still remained friends with the Weasleys, Harry and Ginny were no longer seeing each other, and neither were Ron and Hermione. At least as boyfriend and girlfriend in either case. Harry and Hermione had considered giving a stronger relationship a go, but it didn't work out. They felt more like close friends and pseudo-siblings.
It was why he was helping her, giving her free rein with the Black family library, albeit with Andromeda's supervision. It was why he allowed her to begin working on a ritual in the basement. A ritual that she was nearing completion.
They had only told a select few of their friends. The less people who knew, the better. Of course, the Ministry knew something was up, as despite Harry asking the Goblins to be discreet in converting much of his fortune into something more portable, people had noticed Harry's frequent journeys into Gringotts lately. And given his vocal opposition to the Ministry and his defence of Delphi, there was already speculation that Harry Potter was on the verge of leaving Britain, just as the Weasleys did.
"This…place Hermione came from," Andromeda said. "We don't know what it is like. And if we go, we're taking Delphi and Teddy with us. How can we be sure it will be safe for them?"
"We can't. We can only hope we're not dropped into the middle of a warzone or something," Harry said. "But honestly, we can potentially go back. We have Australia as a back-up plan. But going between worlds…it's difficult magic, and hopefully, the Ministry can't follow us. We'll see if we can find ways of communicating. We have the mirrors. Don't get me wrong, I'm as worried as you are, but…"
Whatever Harry was going to say was chased from his mind when a familiar bushy-haired witch barged in. "Harry, Andromeda…it's ready," she said breathlessly.
Harry and Andromeda shared looks. It seemed that the time had come. Finally…
The two kids were fidgeting even as the adults shrunk the Expanded Trunks and pocketed them. They'd already voiced their own childish concerns, or at least Teddy did. Delphi seemed to act far too old for her age. Not like her parents, but after learning of them, she became too quiet, too solemn, less happy than she should be.
It wasn't to say she wasn't ever happy, even after she learned her parentage. But she was filled with dark emotions no child should feel, and not anything like malice or hatred. Just a sorrow, and a fear of those who wanted her dead just for being born.
Still, she seemed to be good enough friends with Teddy. Even if the pair of them bickered quite a bit. And there was the relationship she had with that strange doll she had fished out of the attic in 12 Grimmauld Place.
Harry and Hermione had sent of Patronuses off to those they cared about. They were off, to wherever Hermione's parents came from. And not a moment too soon.
Hermione was intoning the chant, with eldritch colours surrounding them in the ritual circle. Interestingly, there seemed to be a lot of golden light mixed in with the energies of the spell. And then, as things reached a crescendo, the light flared…
…And they were now somewhere else.
The first thing Harry noticed was the table. A large, circular table, with a small mountain of weapons piled up in the middle of it. And above those weapons was a strange shape made of golden light that seemed to be almost alive. It was beautiful, and yet, something about it set Harry on edge.
And then, a querulous voice broke his reverie. "…So, five newcomers to the Hold," the rasping voice, having a vaguely Scouse accent(1), spoke. "A rare occasion indeed. I cannot remember the last time a new Tarnished has come to the Hold, and five of you…well, it's unprecedented. Especially in such a spectacular manner. Though your clothes are more than a little queer, I daresay. Nonetheless, as your senior, I bid you welcome to the Roundtable Hold. 'Tis safe here, so there is no need to fight within these hallowed halls."
Harry turned to face the source of the voice. A man in armour, with a cape over it, was looking at them, his aged, aquiline features partly-hidden by his helmet, which seemed to have a weird beard to it. Despite his words, his expression and tone made it clear that he didn't consider them that welcome.
"Roundtable Hold?" Hermione asked. "I've never heard of that. We…do not come from this world. We're not these Tarnished you speak of."
"Another world? Truly?" The man scoffed. "Even if you are, there's no denying what you are, girl. Your eyes lack the tinge of Grace. There's no shame in it, as much as some would believe otherwise. But I'm not here to listen to your story. You are mere visitors to the Roundtable Hold, house guests yet to earn their keep, and nothing more. And if that thought aggrieves you, then remember the words that Grace gave unto you: Stand before the Elden Ring, and become Elden Lord."
"You're a real charmer," Harry said. The guy reminded him unpleasantly of Percy in some regards. "We've never even heard of the Elden Ring. Anyway, we're here because Hermione here is looking for her parents."
"And the ritual I formulated would have brought us to them…well, the surviving parent," Hermione said. "My mother, Dolores, is apparently…well, not quite dead, but my father is supposed to be alive, someone called Sir Gideon Ofnir. If you can tell me where to find him, then…"
"Wait…did you say your mother's name was…?" the man asked, looking at her with sudden interest. "…Gods…I didn't really notice it, if only because I thought you were more lollygaggers and laggards. That coloured my sight. You really favoured your mother, girl. You have something of her face."
"You knew my mother?"
"Of course I did, girl!" the man snapped. "She was my harshest critic…" His face fell. "…And the best friend I ever had. Dolores the Sleeping Arrow. My paramour, for a time. And you…I had given up hope of finding you ever again."
"…Me?"
"…I am Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing," the man declared. "And, assuming you are telling the truth, I am your father in blood…"
CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:
So, Hermione is the daughter of Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing Tosspot? Oh dear. But is this a good thing or a bad thing?
Gideon's appearance is based somewhat on how he looks under his helmet. Yes, he has a face, as Zullie the Witch demonstrated in one of her videos, as did Garden of Eyes in one of their own.
1. Sir Gideon Ofnir is played by Joe McGann, the older brother of Doctor Who actor Paul McGann. Both were born in Liverpool, and while I'm not sure what regional dialect Gideon is supposed to be speaking, I decided to go with it having a light Scouse touch to it, as a nod to McGann's origins.
