Harry Potter and the Heir to Gondor

A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings fusion by Andrew J. Talon

Disclaimer: This is a fanbased parody work of prose. Please support the official release.

Author's Note: I love Lord of the Rings because it has aged like fine wine. And Harry Potter I'm at best mixed on, as it has aged like milk. But it just keeps pulling me back in, just as I thought I was out. So here's something random I cooked up.

The Chamber of Secrets was a labyrinth of pipes and smaller chambers. All wet, all filthy. Yet Harry could think of no other way to evade the blinded, furious Basilisk right on his heels.

Apparently, neither could Fawkes. The Phoenix trilled in the darkness ahead, guiding Harry through the dark. The basilisk roared behind him, closing in.

Abruptly, Fawkes flew into view, and pointed his wing to a chamber to the left. Harry, always quick on the uptake, ran that way. Fawkes then sang loudly, and flew in the other direction. The basilisk slithered after, roaring in rage.

Harry slid to a stop inside the dimly lit chamber, eyes frantically searching for a reason for the Phoenix's suggestion. A good place to hide? To regroup?

All that sat in the chamber was a small chest of white and golden wood.

Despite its apparent age, it was not withered or decayed like its surroundings. Harry frowned and walked up to it. He reached out and touched the chest.

It opened easily, smoothly. Inside, nestled in red and blue cloth, was a sword in a black sheath. In the dim chamber, it seemed to glow with a pale light, like the full moon.

Harry hesitated a moment. He then heard the roar of the Basilisk from down the corridor. The Great snake was closing in.

Harry held up the sword in his hands. He could hear the whispers of song, and felt a comforting warmth. He felt the urge to gird the sword sheath on his belt, and did so. He then pulled the blade, and held it in front of himself.

The blade gleamed with its aetheral light, and he could hear a faint, beautiful note vibrate from it. The runes on the sword faintly glowed as well.

The maw of the Basilisk erupted into the chamber, the snake lunging with all its might!

Harry swung the blade... And with a flash of flame, the head of the Basilisk split in two. Harry tumbled out of the way, momentum carrying the Basilisk into the far wall.

It groaned in agony only a moment, before it went still. Harry stood up on shaky legs. He looked over the slain beast, and he felt a bit sad.

How much of its actions were directed by Voldemort, and how much was it's own doing? He would never know.

Fawkes trilled at him. Harry turned and nodded. They weren't done.

Harry walked back to the main chamber, sword still dripping with the blood of the Basilisk. The shade of Riddle gaped in shock and disbelief.

"That... That's impossible!" He gasped. "That sword-How can you wield it?! That line is gone-!"

Harry didn't care what the stupid shade believed. He didn't care to listen to his annoying voice any longer. The sword seemed to let him hear and feel more about the world, like music playing through his soul.

And the "sounds" from Riddle and his journal were hideous and wicked.

So Harry decided there was only one suitable answer to Riddle and his stupid yammering.

He picked up the diary from Ginny's cold hands, and set it down in front of him. He then turned the sword point down, and, while staring directly into Riddle's terrified face... Stabbed the book through with the blade.

A flash of white flame issued from the sword. The diary burned, becoming ashes in seconds. And Riddle's shade screamed as he exploded, the pieces vanishing into nothing.

It was then that Harry lost consciousness, falling face down onto the cold floor, the sword tucked protectively against him.

He came to a familiar ceiling-The Hospital Wing. He groaned as he slowly sat up, instinctguiding his hands to his glasses and putting them on. And at the edge of his bed sat Professor Dumbledore, eyes twinkling despite his serious expression.

"Professor?" Harry managed.

"Easy, Harry," the old wizard consoled, "you've been through a great deal."

"But the governors-"

"They called me back the moment you all went missing," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I had a feeling you might need some help though, so I asked Fawkes to lend you some aid."

"Is everyone-?"

"Miss and Mister Weasley are all right," Dumbledore said gently, and Harry felt his heart slow down, "as is Professor Lockhart. Though his memory is gone."

"Serves him right," Harry spat out, a bit more bitterly than he intended. He looked up at Dumbledore. "Sorry sir, but he tried to Memory Charm Ron and I. So he could get the glory. He did it before."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore hummed. "Then the punishment fits the crime. In any event, I must say that is not the only surprise I have had tonight."

He held up the sword, and Harry could hear the song again. Gentle and beautiful.

"It is very impressive what you did, pulling this out of the Sorting Hat."

Harry blinked.

"Er... But I didn't pull that out of the Hat, sir. Fawkes led me to it in the Chamber."

Dumbledore was silent. He looked to the nearby side table. Fawkes appeared in a flash of light and flame.

"Fawkes, why did you lead Harry to this blade? Is it the Sword of Gryffindor?"

Fawkes sang softly, a song that resonated with the sword. Dumbledore's eyes widened.

"No... That can't be," Dumbledore murmured.

"Sir?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore handed the sword to Harry.

"Please pull the blade free, Harry," Dumbledore said gently.

Harry did so. He looked upon the markings, and the song seemed louder.

"Can you read the runes?" Dumbledore asked. Harry blinked, and focused. The runes became words...

"Sun. I am Andúril who was once Narsil, sword of Elendil. The slaves of Mordor shall flee from me. Moon".

Which is when Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and legendary wizard of old... Fell back and fainted dead away.

"Sir?!"

Well, it's certainly not as bad as the Rings of Power will be.