A/N: I make no money off of this fanfic, nor do I in way claim ownership over any aspect of Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter.

As has probably been realized I am following the book more so than the movie concerning the events in the 'Fellowship of the Ring'. I do plan on meshing in the occasional movie quote and moment if only because it helps mesh the two stories together. I apologize if this causes confusion. It is not necessary to experience both the movie and the books to read this fanfic.


Chapter 4

The only noise in the air was sound of rushing water below. Even the birds had stop twerping as if realizing the gravity of the decision being made.

Harry didn't think debate should be held about the fate of the Ring. He eyed one of the nice axes on the back of the younger dwarf, Gimli, the one that couldn't hold his liquor. He bet one of those could at least damage the ring with the right spells or poison. The wizard probably knew of some magical weapon that could destroy it, if he didn't have one already.

He briefly wondered what would happen if he walked into the council then and there with wands blazing and aiming to destroy the ring. He would probably be shot by an elf, the surly looking one may even take a swing at him, thinking that he was trying to steal it. The ring would probably panic and use its powers to cause someone to die for it. Harry didn't know if he could take three elves and whoever else was susceptible to the Horcrux's power, so hiding in the bushes seemed to be the best course of action, for now.


Aragorn mentally groaned as Glorfindel bit out that they should throw it into the Sea and be done with it. After a warning glance from Elrond, Gandalf explained in a more jovial manner that the Ring would appear again, and in the meantime Sauron and Saruman could destroy the free lands of Middle-Earth. Glorfindel just gritted his teeth and muttered something about 'exploring all options'.

Aragorn thought the elf was probably thinking about throwing someone rather than something into the Great Sea. Glorfindel was apparently still sore in multiple senses because of the fight with the stranger last night.

Elrond stood before the Council and stated that the Ring should be unmade, despite that none here possess the power to unmake it. Only in the East is the power to unmake the Ring of Power.


Finally.

Harry looked at the slowly paling faces of the Council. Harry wanted to knock some heads together, they should be thrilled that they at least have a means of destroying it. Harry knew all too well the despair that came from having a taunting piece of soul and no means of destroying it. Harry remembered the months it took to even find the book that hinted at the magic needed to destroy the locket. Finding and learning the magic took two months with the locket antagonizing Hermione and him every step of the way. Ron had left after a few months after they had the locket, until one day in early September when he left them.

He never saw Ron again after the argument that tore the trio apart. Harry often wondered when Ron would have come back if he lived, for it was never a question of 'if'. He knew the journey would have been easier on their hearts if Ron had been with them. Hermione cried every night for the following weeks after he left them in the woods. The months that followed were filled with mourning, bickering, and then spiteful provocation to make the other leave. They knew that the locket was trying to separate them to make it easier to claim one of them for its own, but that knowledge was only a small condolence. The suffering they heaped on each other was only prolonged by Voldemort burning down bookshops and his Deatheaters hording the largest collection of dark grimoires around. With no knowledge of how to destroy the Horcrux and the books holding that knowledge rapidly disappearing, Harry and Hermione had almost-

Harry was shaken out of his thoughts with the proclamation of the man from Minas Tirith, "The Great Ring has come to us in our very hour of need. We should wield it against him, use his strength against him".

Glorfindel groaned as Aragorn put his head in his hands. Harry thought that was unfair of them, few know the power of a Horcrux. Many think that because they have a whole soul they can overcome a fractured one. In a way, yes, however, whole souls do not know the unending torment of a divided soul. Harry remembered the battered piece of the soul that Voldemort killed in battle, huddled in a corner of Kings Cross Station. Beaten and rejected by its very self in an act of violence, the shred of soul becomes ravenous in its search for a living vessel, a way for it to express itself outside of its inanimate prison. That hunger, which whole souls know not, is what drives the Horcrux to antagonize all around it.

Harry knew the hunger well; it was something he came to appreciate after being a living Horcrux for two years. He did not hold ignorance of it against the over-confident soldier. A Horcrux will promise anything to be free. Even if the man boasted about the deeds of his city, the truth lay in what he didn't say. His city probably needed help and was undermanned. By bragging about the numerous things they protected it left the question of how one city, which had fallen a little in the past few centuries according to Elrond, could protect so many.

It couldn't, at least, not without leaving itself open to attack. The poor man is probably everything the poor Horcrux wanted: strong, deeply involved with its enemy, and desperate.


Aragorn groaned as Boromir refused to listen to reason concerning the Ring. Aragorn listened to Elrond explain the dangers of the ring and after a while, Boromir relented, thankfully.

Gandalf rose and spoke with a gentle tone, "Boromir, it is not that we wish to deny aid to Gondor. Our fear is that even the Wise would not be able to command the Ring without crowning themselves as Dark Lords that would claim dominion of Middle Earth."

Boromir flinched slightly at the words but did not retort. Aragorn narrowed his eyes at the young Gondorian, he would need to be watched in his interactions with Frodo. The peril the Ring presented should be obvious, it was even referred to as Isildur's Bane. If the descendants of Numenor could not restrain themselves from the Ring, what hope would Boromir have?

What hope did he, Aragorn, have?


Harry knew that look, it was the same as the one he had given to Snape after an unfair detention was assigned. No, Boromir had not given up his futile hope in the Ring, but he was smart enough to back down.

Elrond spoke after a while from his seat, "The doom of the Ring has been decided. Now, who will accompany it into the shadows of Mordor?"

Silence fell upon the Council a second time. Harry had to wonder what was so terrible in this Mordor that none would tread upon it in conversation, let alone on foot. It was similar to the trepidation he had seen amongst Deatheaters who were deciding who should be the bearer of bad news to the Dark Lord. Mordor, the land the Enemy had once ruled in Elrond's story was apparently the dwelling of the same terror now. Harry tried to envision Lord Voldemort as ruler of a country.

For some reason the words desolate and curse-marked sprung to mind.

If Dark Lords who split their souls on a whim had similar tastes in interior decoration, Harry could almost understand why no one would want to go within a hundred leagues of Mordor.

The old hobbit, Bilbo, who had been oddly silent in comparison to last night's revelry, stood up slowly. The poor halfling must have had a headache larger than him after that, unless, of course, his 'Host of Honor' gave him a healing hand. Harry thought that to be the truth considering the story that Bilbo had told before concerning the Ring about how he had liberated it from a pitiful little creep was told with greater flair than Harry had heard when the hobbit was drinking.

"I see who you are all pointing to! Well, well, well, I suppose I have started a good mess, and it would be silly of me not to think of cleaning it up. I had just finished my book too. 'And he lived happily ever after to the end of his days', I thought it was a proper ending, but how foolish of me. I suppose that I will have to go back and change it. Do not worry! It will not be too bothersome!" Bilbo said as he slowly made his speech and then sat down and waited for the response of the Council.

Harry couldn't help but think the old hobbit had a bit of something before the meeting if he deluded himself into thinking he was fit for travel. Even Boromir looked ready to burst out laughing, however, every other face on the porch looked completely serious.

Elrond told the old hobbit to stand down from the quest and explained how multiple people were required to take upon the task and that no one expected Bilbo to be one of them. The old hobbit actually looked slightly put out at the prospect of missing the venture. Bilbo then thought for a moment turned back to Elrond, and asked, "And just who are these emissaries that will take the Ring into the East?"


Aragorn groaned as Boromir opened his mouth. The man was strong and a good warrior, but he needed to learn when to stay his opinion.

"The Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust" He leaned further into the circle and continued in a low voice, "The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you complete this task. It is folly"

Aragorn saw the pale faces of the hobbits and the fear build behind the eyes of the elves. With that simple statement, hope had been snuffed from the terrace.

Legolas showed his merit by standing up to the remark, "You heard what has been said." Drawing himself to full height he continued, "The Ring must be destroyed!"

The life that had escaped the porch seemed to rush back with that statement. Aragorn looked at Gandalf who was smiling, if the small twitches of his beard were anything to go by. The smile, however, was replaced by a frown as an agitated dwarf, Gimli son of Gloin, stood up and looked furiously at the elf.

"And I suppose you think that you're the one to do it!" The dwarf shouted across the porch to the elvish delegation across from him.

Aragorn placed his head in his hand as the porch dissolved into chaos.


Well, at least the porch didn't dissolve into silence again.

Harry glanced down at the squirming legs of the halfling beside him. It was almost mid day and the hobbit was probably anxious about the gravity of the situation. Or hungry, Harry thought as he remembered that he normally saw the short statured guests around a table holding food, speaking about food, or in fact eating.

Most likely hungry then.

"I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor." Harry looked up see which warrior had finally offered their services, only to find that the porch had fallen into that thrice-damned silence again. In the middle of the porch stood Frodo, hands slightly shaking with all of the Council staring at him, and Harry couldn't help but be slightly impressed and more than a little scared.

"Although, I do not know the way…" The young Hobbit continued with dwindling confidence.

Harry put his head in his hand and wondered why the foolishly brave had the fated misfortune to speak the loudest.


Aragorn looked over in shock as the young halfling stood up and proclaimed his intention to take the road East with the ring. True, Frodo had withstood the powers of the Ring, quite remarkably in fact. The wise would not touch the Ring, Gandalf would never bear the Ring two feet, let alone the entire journey. The elves would not touch it for they loathed its existence as much as they feared it. The dwarves' ability to ward off the powers of the Ring had never been tested, however, they do not trust easily and are very protective of their belongings, and would probably kill to protect the Ring and take it back to the mountains if history was any judge. Boromir and history had proven that the Ring could not be borne to the Fiery Mountain by men without tempting and eventually corrupting the bearer. Which left Frodo Baggins of the Shire, the most unlikely and unexpected of all the races in Middle-Earth.

Elrond stood and addressed the Council, "This task has been appointed to you, Frodo Baggins, and that if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great."

Appropriate words, Aragorn could help but think as Frodo flushed at the praise and enormity of the task he had just taken.

"But do not fret, young master, for though it is a heavy burden, I cannot lay it upon you. Only you may take it freely, and if that should be your will, you go with the goodwill of elves."

Aragorn looked sharply over his shoulder as a bush to his right began to rustle violently.


Harry found there was very little he liked about the people on the porch at this moment. First they fight about the existence of the Ring. Next, they fight about what to do with it. Then, they go and argue about whether or not it should be destroyed.

Harry could live with that. Debate is good, in moderation. Harry himself had to let go of his 'Leap, then look' attitude after the consequences it brought.

However, this was unacceptable. No one should ever need to feel they have to do the right thing, they should do it because they damn well feel like it.

That hobbit, Frodo, he was scared, completely out of his depth and instead of waiting for the debate to come to a conclusion, he just jumped in and said he'd do it. Harry knew the little guy had seen some action, he had been knifed over a week ago, but the carefree attitude he had witnessed from him and his fellows belayed the fact they were woefully naïve about the horrors of battle. Frodo had no idea what he was walking into and therefore had no right to take up the task. He should have been stopped before his bravery got him killed.

Harry looked down at the struggling halfling caught in the bush he had previously used as camouflage. One these halflings was going to walk into the main fortress of the enemy, stroll up to his backyard volcano bearing the one thing that the enemy is hell bent on searching, and then they will destroy it? It was genuinely laughable.

They couldn't fight off a bit of shrubbery, let alone one of those horse-riding wraiths.


Aragorn smiled fondly as Samwise broke through the bush on the edge of the porch.

He ran to stand to Frodo and looked at Lord Elrond, "Well you surely can't be sending him alone!"

Elrond raised a dignified eyebrow, "No indeed, you at least shall go with him," he then added with a tone of admonishment, "For it is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Sam had the good grace to blush at the subtle rebuke, "Isn't this a nice pickle that we've landed in, Mr. Frodo?"


Secret council? Oh that was a laugh.

Harry wondered if there was something in the water that made these people so trusting, and that wasn't Mad Eye's training talking. The inhabitants of this land let prisoners run free, trust those that can't fight to take on dangerous enemies, and hold secret meetings that anyone could walk in.

Harry needed to leave this place, soon. It was bad for his paranoia.


Aragorn watched as the three halflings left the porch with the eldest talking of adventures and dragons. The council's discussion was surprisingly smooth, despite the surprises that threatened the composure of the attendees.

Glancing at the chair beside him that had been unoccupied the whole time, Aragorn wondered what devilry the stranger got into with all of his minders at the Council. He knew Gandalf told him to trust the stranger, he just didn't know how. Everything that man did upset the perfect balance of Rivendell, his home. The balance that had given him peace after the death of his mother was now being toyed with at the whim of oft too inebriated man. Even the elves…

"You make it sound like there is no point being born human!"

The words now echoed back and Aragorn wondered what the man meant by his accusation. It wasn't as if the elves were bad at raising horses or making weapons. Everyone in Middle Earth looked to the elves, they were the Firstborn and had lived the longest, so their experience made them superior in many ways. Aragorn watched the agitated form of Boromir as he paced amongst the hedges and sighed.

Making his way past the hedges, Aragorn could have sworn he heard something whispering of 'fiends' and 'flames' over his right shoulder. Whirling around, Aragorn stared at the empty space behind him. No one.

"Expecting your own shadow to come towards you wielding its own sword?"

Aragorn spun around and looked at the Gondorian captain who stared back at him as if trying to put together a puzzle without touching the pieces. Aragorn sighed, "If the path of shadow reaches here, one day it just might. You seem troubled as well, did your shadow find you before me?"

Boromir quirked a small smile, "Aye, it may have. My heart is troubled with the new discoveries made on this day. Fell whispers drew me to this corner of the garden, but it may have been a lingering phantom of my imagination."

Aragorn glanced surreptitiously around the garden, after seeing nothing out of place, minus the spot next to him where a mussed shrubbery dangled a few broken branches that tried to hold Samwise to the ground, Aragorn prodded the conversation onwards, "Perhaps we are all feeling the effects of the Ring. Its presence may have addled us all in some way."Aragorn stated gently, knowing the younger Gondorian was troubled.

Looking off into the pine forest, Boromir looked ashamed, as if guessing that Aragorn was hinting to Council instead of the current conversation. "I suppose we are affected in some ways by the danger and guised hope that it offers."

Aragorn smiled, the effect of the One Ring was ebbing while it was absent. The danger had passed. Looking at Boromir, Aragorn decided to take a risk, "I plan to travel alongside Frodo for at least part of his journey into the East. I do not how long I will stay by his side, however once I have finished my duty to the Ring bearer, I will go with you to the White City if you believe I can aid you."

"Yay," Boromir said softly and the turned to Aragorn, "It would aid the White City to see her King again" And with a broad grin, Boromir clapped the shoulder of Aragorn and walked off into the eastern side of Rivendell.

Aragorn couldn't help but wonder if he made a huge mistake.


Harry couldn't help but wonder if he made a huge mistake.

Night had fallen over Rivendell and the house, for the most part, was asleep. Harry tried to compare this scheme with past cracked-pot schemes he had in the past, and while this one didn't take the cake, it definitely stood out in the lack of knowledge concerning the consequences. Still, the worst they could do is kill him, or hold him prisoner in a tree…

As he crept past the first hobbit that lay peacefully on a fluffy pillow, Harry glanced at the second across the room that lay basking in the moonbeams. Both were completely asleep and unawares that there was someone else in the room. Harry crept further in and carefully pried the door open after casting a quick silencing spell at the door frame in case it creaked.

After sneaking through the door, Harry found the other two halflings, sleeping in mirroring beds and both sound asleep. Harry crept towards the halfling with darker hair and saw the velvet waistcoat that was neatly folded over the back of the chair next to the bed. Harry recalled this is where the halfling had stored the ring after the meeting. He confirmed this fact by feeling the ring through the pocket of the waist coat. After pausing to find a twig in the hearth pile, he approached the left breast pocket of the waistcoat.

Sticking the twig hesitantly into the pocket, Harry then fished around for his prize. The end of the twig snapped, bringing an anticlimactic pause to the fishing excursion. Removing the twig and resuming without the broken bit, Harry eventually looped his prey around the small branch. Gingerly pulling it out, Harry paused for a moment to marvel at how the little golden ring shone in the moonlight.

The twig seemed a bit of a paranoid measure, after all, it was only a ring. Harry considered the statement and held his hand out to drop the ring from the twig into his waiting palm.

Suddenly, for an instant Harry's right hand became black and malformed, he recognized it immediately as Dumbledore's shriveled arm after handling the ring that Harry now wore on his left forefinger.

Harry shook his head and sharply withdrew his hand from the ring. No matter how harmless the ring appeared, it was still a horcrux. Mentally berating himself for almost falling into the trap, Harry softly strode out of the room and retraced his steps to the porch. Setting the ring down on a stone plinth that sat near the edge of the garden, Harry took four deliberate steps back and raised his wand.

Harry mentally gathered himself for the spell, as he felt the acidic heat course through his body. With a resolute exhale, Harry held his wand aloft and whispered, "Phyrago!"

Deep red sparks burst forth from the end of the wand, and a ball of fire formed at the tip. Harry watched the beads of sweat on his arm glow in the orange light. Resisting the urge to brush the sweat from his brow, Harry focused on the ball as it began to take shape. The ball spasmed and wriggled under the force of Harry's concentration, the shape became serpentine but didn't take a defined form even as the size of the flame grew to the length of his forearm.

Harry growled in frustration, he was out of practice, this was taking too long and he didn't have much time to complete this task. With a deep breath, he focused on the shape of the flame, and Hermione's words came back to him…


A shrill voice broke his concentration, "Not that way!"

Harry barely had time to shield himself as the flames exploded in front of him and began to form a menagerie of animals that began to fly towards him. The animals soon consumed the shield in seconds and Harry apparated across the scorched room in an effort to escape the flames.

"PHYRAGO!" Hermione's voice was barely heard above the roar of the flames.

A lengthy serpent filled the chamber and surrounded Harry. Yelping as his exit was cut off, Harry winced and covered his eyes as the flames roared around him and the heat buffeted his face. He smelled the hair on his forearm burning and knew that if he made it out of this alive he would need Hermione's mercy and Burn Salve.

Feeling the temperature suddenly decrease, Harry risked peeking out from behind the crossed arms that shielded his face. The serpent was coiled around the animals of flame that Harry had set loose. The coiled flame opened its great maw and began consuming the flames inside its bright orange coils. Once the snake finished feasting it turned to Harry and stared at him with unseeing eyes that burned a bright yellow.

Harry thought for a moment that he would need to finish off the great snake in front of him, but his fears were allayed as the serpent disintegrated in wisps of flame that were drawn into Hermione's wand. With the danger gone Harry realized how tired he was and sat down on the still scorched tiled floor.

With a tsk sound Hermione walked towards him wiping the sweat from her brow, "That was stupid of you. You could have gotten us both killed, or worse, damaged the book doing that"

Harry smiled, "Fortunately for us and the book, you are too clever for that to happen." He lay down on the cooling tiles, "How did you do that anyway, I thought I needed to will the flames away to stop the fire."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Fiendfyre is not a Bluebell Flame, Harry, and you never had any control over the flames. You couldn't have willed the flames to burn faster if you wanted them to."She sat down next to Harry's singed form, "You do realize that this means you have ruined another outfit beyond the reach of repairing charms, don't you? I am not helping you steal clothes again, you can go starkers for all I care."

Harry chuckled as Hermione pulled out the tub of Burn Salve that was used so often that the clear green goop had flecks of charcoal mixed inside of it. Harry obediently held his arms up perpendicular from his body, "I know Fiendfyre isn't a Bluebell Flame, but I did what you told me to, I focused my magic to become a flame-"

"Wrong." Hermione interrupted by slapping the burn salve none too gently on his pink left arm and showing no mercy to the bubbled skin near his wrists. Ignoring Harry's hiss of protest as the Burn Salve began creep into the open wounds, Hermione began to explain, "You made a flame, congratulations, but I bet even Crabbe could do that if he said the incantation and did the right wand movements. The reason Fiendfyre is banned is because of the disastrous effects of just doing that and nothing else, which is what you just did by the way. The only way to learn the spell with some modicum of safety is to have someone who knows how to create and control Fiendfyre-"

Harry found the inconsistency in this statement, "Then how did you learn it? If you- OW!" Hermione interrupted his statement by reaching across his body and slapping Burn Salve on his outstretched right arm.

"Honestly Harry, for seven years you said I was a brilliant witch, now I actually do something brilliant and you don't believe I could do it. I did the research and prepared myself and I did it because I had to do it." Hermione said while rubbing the cool salve up and down Harry's arm. "Fiendfyre is a magical flame that consumes the magic that surrounds it to continue burning. Now if the flame gets out of control, what is the first thing it will consume?"

Harry dutifully responded, "Me."

"The caster," Hermione corrected, "And that is only if you are the most potent source of magic in the room. That is why it is important to control the flame. Otherwise you'll get smoked before the flames get to the object you are trying to destroy." Hermione absently slapped Harry's arm upright as he let it fall slightly, "You need to keep your arms unbent for ten minutes, otherwise your arms will get stuck that way."

Harry groaned realizing Hermione was using his injuries to make him a captive student, "You know I wouldn't have lost control of the flames if you didn't scream at me."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "You were doing it wrong and I was stopping you before you could pump any more magic into the flame. You tried to control the flame by pouring more of your power into it, when I had explicitly told you that you control the flame through the shape and the details that give rise to the flame." She paused for a moment to slap Harry's right arm into an unbent position.

Harry winced and retorted, "There wasn't enough flame to make anything like what you made. I was just trying to make it larger so that I could I could put more details into it." Harry tried to defend himself, "I know that the shape is important, I just thought by putting more of myself into the flame it would be more willing to obey me."

Hermione cast him a baleful look, "Harry, where in your right mind did you ever figure that by making something more like you, it would be more obedient? For Merlin's sake, you were able to throw off the Imperius curse completely in Fourth Year. Subservience is not a characteristic you could imbue into anything with your magic. By making the flame your creation I meant you should control the shape, the dimensions, the animal, everything that makes that flame into Fiendfyre. If you know every aspect of that flame before you cast it, it belongs to you, and you can control it. As far as making it larger to see it better, your Elixir of Sight is almost done, and that is only if you are brave enough to try the modified version."

Harry sighed, "I thought my bravery was usually a problem?"

"It still usually is," Hermione answered briskly, "This is what happens when you say 'sod all' to reading and preparation. You end up on your back, in pain, and covered in Burn Salve." Hermione slapped Harry's elbows again, "Harry, this isn't like any of the magic they taught us in Hogwarts. We could get ourselves killed before we even find the rest of the Horcruxes. I don't want to waste everything we've done to get where we are. I need you to promise me that you will have a clear idea of what you are casting before you try again."

Sensing the gravity of the promise, Harry looked Hermione in the eye, "I promise." A thought occurred to him, he could have smacked himself for not realizing it sooner, "I have an idea." He tried to stand up but Hermione pinned him and looked pointedly at his arms. Sighing Harry, voiced his plan as Hermione straightened his arms, "If I use the Elder Wand I can get a feel for the flames-"

"Absolutely not." Hermione said with a severity Harry hadn't heard it a while. "The Elder Wand only amplifies your magic, it can't teach you anything. It is a wand Harry, not a book. If you lose control of the flames, I don't think I could create a flame large enough to overpower. The only way to stop the flame is to create another that will consume the magic of the first flame and then willing it away. A whole new meaning to 'Fighting fire with fire'"

Harry realized the effort Hermione was putting into teaching him, "Hermione, you know how to use Fiendfyre"

With a huff, she replied to the statement, "Yes, Harry that is what I have been telling you." Pulling his arms straight, "Four more minutes." She said as she examined the gel that was becoming opaque.

"No, I mean If you know how to use it, why do we need to risk me learning it?" Harry explained.

Hermione paused for a minute and was perfectly still as she held Harry's arm's aloft. Harry thought she didn't hear him and was about to repeat his question when Hermione interrupted his thoughts.

"I thought the answer to that question would be obvious." Hermione said as she let go of his wrists to tentatively poke at the gel that was rapidly hardening into a white crust, "Harry this may leave a scar around the edges, so you know, I think this batch of salve is starting to go on us."

"Hermione," Harry said sensing Hermione ignoring his question, "spell it out for me, why do I need to learn this?"

Experimentally tapping at the salve, Hermione paused and considered the question, "I think this almost done, be careful not to bend your arms for the five minutes after this comes of, the skin is still regenerating." Griping the hard white crust at the top of Harry's left wrist she pryed it off his arms. The slab peeled away taking a translucent slab of bubbled and burnt skin with it. Brushing away the remaining white flecks off his arm, Hermione analyzed the new skin that formed under the salve. "Your hair hasn't grown back yet, so let's try to avoid burns next time, hmm?" After repeating the process with his right arm, Hermione vanished the white crusted, dead skin from the floor next to her.

"Hermione! Answer the question." Harry pleaded, "Please."

With a sigh, Hermione looked sadly at Harry as she lay his arms down next to him, "Because I might not live to see the next Horcrux. We can try again tomorrow morning. Try not to move, your arms are still healing"


Harry focused on the ball of flame as it grew wings and limbs. Fiery ridges formed along the spine of the little dragon. A smaller flame was better for this task. Large flames were good in battle because of the large areas they lay waste to, but Harry had grown morbidly fond of the small Ridgeback that was waiting at the tip of his Phoenix wand.

"Okay Norbert, its lunchtime." Harry whispered as he willed the flame to bounce onto the plinth next to the ring. The dragon stood only a half a meter high as it reared back and exhaled flames that slowly consumed the top of the stone. The flames broke loose as they coiled around the ring. Harry tried to keep the flames concentrated to the top of the short column but the flames began to take a new shape. A giant fiery eye rose from the flames and starred unblinking at Harry. With a grunt, Harry tried to bend the flames back into the shape of a Norwegian Ridgeback, hwever the flames refused to conform.

"Oh Hell." Harry muttered as the eye focused on him. Suddenly the makeshift Occlumency barrier he had constructed was bowed in by the force of the mental assault the eye unleashed. Harry felt his memories being grasped at and knew he needed to stop it before the attack was complete. Focusing himself he felt the tendril of the eye and envisioned a blade that cut the tendrils. The blade swung forward without a wielder and cut the tendrils that came from the eye. Harry focused on another wall and slammed the eye out of his mind with effort.

Opening his eyes Harry saw that the flames before him and grown twice their size and had completely consumed the stone the ring sat upon. The original dragon shaped flame had grown wilder and stared at him as if he were a tantalizing sheep.

Muttering, "Wow Norbert, you've grown up" Harry took at step back and raised his wand to the flame. This was the hard part, willing the flames and magic to cease existence. Focusing on everything in the dragon, the wings, the spikes, the way the tail swished, and the claws, Harry forced the flame back into his wand. As the flames slowly shriveled wisp by reluctant wisp, Harry felt the twinges in the muscles of his arms. He was out of practice; this was tiring him more than it should.

Once the flames were completely extinguished, a panting Harry sat down on the cold flagstones and looked at what remained of the stone before him. A twisted smoking spire was all that remained after the flames had ravaged the small stone column. Between breathes, Harry squinted up through the smoke and steam at the top and groaned as he collapsed completely into ground. A small gold ring with red lettering about it shone through the smog mockingly.


Aragorn turned the corner towards the porch where the dooming decision to destroy the ring was made earlier that day. Or yesterday, Aragorn corrected himself as he saw the sky lightening in the east. Aragorn paused to inhale the air of the new day and then paused. Smoke.

Following the scent of smoke Aragorn found himself in the middle of the porch. Strange, no fires were lit on the porch for the night. As a cloud rolled back from the moon, the terrace was cast in silver light. Aragorn looked around for the source of the smoke and saw what looked like a burnt branch across from him. Approaching it Aragorn realized that the smoke was not rising from a branch, but the mangled and molten remains of stone.

Sighing, Aragorn knew he would not need to go far to find the source of this new devilry. Aragorn looked around and wondered why someone in their right mind would want to destroy a short stone plinth that only had the purpose to bear a vase of flowers in the summer months. In the late autumn month it had very little purpose, Elrond may have used it to set books upon on occasions when he did not gaze at the stars from his usual study.

The question of how still needled Aragorn as he tentatively touched the twisted and charred rock. It was still warm, meaning that the fire was extremely hot, beyond that which was used in the forges of the elven-smiths, if the stone could still hold heat in the late autumn night air. He knew the stranger held the power to throw attackers and the escape from bindings, but to melt stone was a power he would have pegged beyond that of the stranger. It seemed to be too much power for one who was not of the Istar to wield.

As Aragorn walked to Gandalf's chambers to inform him of his 'guest's' latest action he wondered what he would do concerning Arwen. He was to leave with the Ring bearer, Sam, Boromir, and no doubt Gandalf. Elrond was no doubt forming a list of warriors to accompany the Ring to Mordor: Legolas son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, had been recommended to represent Mirkwood and Gimli son of Gloin was recommended to represent the dwarves. Elrond had wanted to send a company of nine with the Ring to match the Nine Nazgul. Aragorn knew that if the Nine came upon the company he would likely sacrifice himself for the Ring bearer's escape. His heart was pained by the thought of leaving Arwen for what could be the last time.

He knew he had to at least try to convince her to go to the undying shores, she deserved the chance to be free of Ring and the disaster it wields. She wouldn't take kindly to the suggestion, but-

Aragorn's thought were interrupted as he passed the Hobbit's room. Normally Aragorn would dismiss the smell of smoke in the halls to the fact that it was the verge of winter and the room needed heat, however, it was not the smell of burnt wood, but the smell of the burnt stone on the porch. Poking his head into the room, Aragorn looked around and saw two hobbits blissfully asleep, creeping further, Aragorn glanced about for signs of tampering

Aragorn tenderly pulled the door open. A clear room greeted his sight. With the moonlight filled room Aragorn could not sense an intruder anywhere. Aragorn paused next to Frodo's waistcoat, it smelled of the same acrid smoke that lingered in the hall. Aragorn paused as his fingers made out the outline of the Ring in the left breast pocket.

He paused further when he realized there was something that felt like a twig inside the pocket with it. Looking about, Aragorn saw a branch on the windowsill with a broken end that appeared to be the same size as the piece in the pocket.

Someone was fishing for the Ring.

Someone who knew how dangerous it was.

The pieces didn't fit together. Did the stranger take possession of the Ring? If so, why was it still here? How did the man know it was dangerous to touch? Did the Ring have anything to do with the molten column?

Aragorn couldn't help but wonder how Gandalf was going to defend his guest after this.


A/N: Apologies for the long wait, wasn't near a computer for two weeks and needed to reimmerse myself into the story. Hope it was worth the wait.