Disclaimer: I own the plot, though I apologize if it's been done before. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling; Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.

There and Back Again

Chapter 14: Mestas

By Jess S

"Are you ready, Elerossë?"

"Uma," Harry nodded, meeting his foster-mother's eyes in a confirmation that was only slightly diffident.  They were down in the grove now, and his nervousness only grew as he watched the Lady of the Golden Wood pour the obligatory water onto her mirror.  It was through this element that Nenya's power gave its bearer, and those its bearer chose to include, the power of Sight.

He couldn't help but be nervous now.  The last time he'd looked into the Mirror, which was also the only time prior to now, had been when they were searching for a way to send him back to Earth.  They hadn't known then about the terribly powerful barrier that kept all the worlds separate, and that barrier didn't take too kindly to being assaulted.  Upon realizing that he was in pain, Galadriel had, of course, pushed him away from the Mirror, and then fought to regain control of it, which had been rather difficult, as the element that empowered had been evaporating at a stunningly rapid rate, due to the high temperature of the barrier's attack.

The encounter had forced both of them into a semi-comatose state for a number of weeks, and it was only Lord Elrond's remarkable healing skills, combined with the power of his own Ring that brought them back after so short a time.

Since then, he'd never wanted to look into the pristine depths of the Sight again, but they had little choice at the moment.  Galadriel had been trying for several days to find a focus in what she'd Seen, in order to un-fog the images into sensible apparitions.  But nothing seemed to penetrate the heavy haze of confusion that now surrounded them.

That was why he was looking now.  They had to know what was happening, and the only focus they had at hand was his link to Voldemort, which he had yet to test, for the chance had simply never arisen when he was on Earth…

"Uma…I'm ready…" the wizard nodded, stepping closer to the Mirror.  He glanced at the Lady of Light again, his stunning green eyes still tentative and to some extent fearful as they looked for support.

She was more than willing to give that encouragement, even if it was rather grim, but the kind smile she offered with her firm nod served to ease some of his qualms, though certainly not all…

Finally, he took one calming breath, before lowering his emerald gaze to the shimmering, crystalline pool that offered his reflection on a dark, unforgiving milieu.  But that wasn't even there for an entire moment, as a ripple of raw power broke it, only to settle for replacing it with a hazy fog, which slowly cleared.

Voldemort sat upon a dark throne, apparently listening to some of his supporters, all of whom were robed and masked in the Death Eater fashion.

Harry' quick gaze quickly noted that the Death Eater ranks were significantly greater then they'd been during the attack and Hogsmeade, and it didn't take long to figure out where the new recruits had come from.  Many of them were younger then the other Death Eaters.  This was made clear both by their size, and the fact that they didn't seem to know what they were doing at all, so were simply following the orders of their elders…

Then the image changed again, to a group of nine sitting around a campfire; two men, one wizard, one elf, one dwarf, and four hobbits…

A strange set up indeed, the wizard's mind was quick to note.  The first five weren't all that surprising.  All of them were warriors who could certainly own their own in a fight.  But hobbits were generally farmers, and, if he recalled correctly, firm pacifists who frowned on becoming involved in the affairs of the other races at all…

But the reason for at least one of them quickly became clear.

He was around the same age as the others, with the same short stature, hairy feet and curly hair…  But his eyes were filled with far more pain, and the wisdom one often sees with such pain.  He carried an object of great, evil power, which could only mean that he was the Bearer of the Ring of Power…

And then the likeness rippled, to change yet another time…

The sight of a great, all-seeing eye replaced it.  It had no lid, and was wreathed in the very same flames it appeared to be comprised of, flames that only highlighted the jealousy and malice it was a slave to.

Once again, the waters, which were now releasing alarming amounts of steam, rippled…

The Eye was joined by the presence of a great skull, which seemed to be comprised of dark magic and cold, green stars.  A snake slithered out of its mouth to complete the picture Harry knew as that Dark Mark, but he was surprised to see that it wasn't done forming yet.

Whereas before the skull had always been just that…the image of a skull, now it changed.  Great, flames encircled it invidiously, while the same type of flames bloomed in the eye sockets, soon to be replaced by two flaming eyes very much like the One Eye he'd Seen only moments before.

This mark took its place in the sky, rising from the top of a Dark Tower -- Barad-dûr, if he recalled correctly -- turning its gaze to the West…towards Imladris.  And then the Death Eaters were leaving the Tower, following the path the Mark watched for them…

The new image was certainly far more frightening then the Dark Mark that Harry remembered.  That mark had been cold, cruel, yet boastful.  It had done what it intended for the most part, and had no mind of its own.

Yet this…

Sauron's spirit was achieving form…

Harry quickly stumbled back from the Mirror as another spout of steam erupted from the boiling surface.  His foster mother didn't seem any less shocked then him.  Her eyes were as wide as his, and breathing no less difficult.

"Nai Vala…" she breathed, shaking her head as she made her way over to him, to offer him a helping hand.

Harry sighed, "I'd say we have a problem…"

The Lady of Light nodded, her lips settling into a grim line.  "Indeed we do…" she was still and quiet for more than a few moments, before she shook her head. "  I must send word to Elrond…He may be able to help us…But you--"

"Must have words with my friends," Harry nodded, "I know…"

Galadriel sighed softly, shaking her head as she leaned down slightly to press a gentle kiss on his brow.  "They will understand…"  As she pulled back she shook her head again, "Although you must make sure they know that they don't have to fight.  Though we would welcome their aid, certainly…"

"Uma…"  Harry nodded once again.  "With the addition of Wizarding warfare, the situation has definitely become much more problematical…"

"Combined with Sauron's armies and the armies Saruman has been breeding…  This army will be a formidable foe…"

The wizard sighed, shaking his head.  "If we don't do something they'll crush any fighting force they come across….  Lothlórien, Imladris, and Eryn Lasgalen are better protected then most.  Lothlórien most of all, as I practiced with so many warding spells here, it's practically impenetrable…And I did take care to ensure Imladris and Thranduil's realm had similar protection…"

"The White City is protected by some Istari and Elven magicks, but not anything that might stand against these…Qualme Rauko."

Harry nodded again, easily accepting the term she'd half-jokingly given to the Death Eaters a long time before their coming to this world.  "We need an army…  An armed force, to march against the collective forces of Darkness…"

"The soldiers of the Galadhrim will gladly follow you, I am sure," Galadriel told him, her voice somewhat distant as she continued to struggle with some of the images, while undoubtedly trying to find her son-in-law's mental signature at the same time.  She was a Lady of great patience when that virtue was called for, but she did not like wasting time at all.  "And Haldir will undoubtedly find no reservations in guiding you once more…"

This time, Harry Potter hesitated only a few spare moments before nodding in acceptance of the influence that being known as Elerossë Tinehtelë, fostered lord of the Galadhrim, granted him.

They'd crossed many hills, streams, rivers, forests and lesser mountains to come to where they where now they were now.  The last bridge to aid them was a distant memory.  Though what Gandalf the Grey had told them then was not, as it had been repeated a number of times since then; "We must hold this course, west of the Misty Mountains, for forty days.  If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us.  From there, our road turns east, to Mordor…"

Frodo shook his head, smiling slightly as Sam handed him a dish of the sausages he'd spent the last while cooking.  Boromir was instructing Merry and Pippin in the 'art of swordplay', as he called it.  He'd offered to teach the other two hobbits as well, but neither had been overly interested.  Frodo himself was content to simply watch them, as it appeared Sam was too, shaking his head slightly as Boromir counted off the strikes while he parried with Merry.

"Two, one, five.  Good!  Very good."  Boromir nodded, smiling slightly as he turned to Pippin, picking up the same pace and maneuvers.

"Move your feet," Aragorn advised them from the sidelines, where he was smoking his pipe.

"You look good, Pippin," Merry nodded with a smile as the other finished the same move he'd been drilled in a moment before.

Pippin returned both the nod and the smile as he replied.  "Thanks."

"Faster!"  Boromir ordered, sounding amused.

Gimli looked away from the activity with an amused shake of his head, glancing up at Gandalf as he sighed.  "If anyone were to ask my opinion, which I note they're not, I'd say we were taking the long way 'round!  Gandalf," he waited until the wizard met his gaze before continuing.  "We could pass through the Mines of Maria.  My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome!"

"No, Gimli," Gandalf shook his head, a worried expression crossing his face.  "I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice…"

Legolas, who'd been keeping an eye on their surroundings, as was his habit, frowned as he crossed the camp quickly, leaping up onto one of the larger boulders with the grace that was inherent to his kind.  Gandalf turned as well, frowning as he watched the horizon the Elf was eyeing, trying to make out something in the distance.  Neither noticed, or more likely; both chose to ignore the sudden yelp of one of their companions.

"Sorry!"  Boromir offered hurriedly, a worried expression crossing his face as he bent down to try and have a look at the hand Pippin was clutching.

He didn't get a chance, however, as the hobbit chose that chance to kick the taller being in the shin, sending him back with a grunt, that was quickly followed by a surprised shout as both Merry and Pippin ran into him, knocking him over.

"Hold him.  Hold him down, Merry!"  Pippin yelled, as he struggled to help while Boromir simply laughed, smiling widely as he sat up, ruffling their hair.  It was then that he noticed the attention some of the party was paying to the distant horizon, and his uneasy face made the Halflings release him, as they turned to look at what Sam was referring to.

"What is that?"

"Nothing."  Gimli replied, albeit uncertainly.  "It's just a wisp of cloud."

"It's moving fast," Boromir shook his head as he rose, "and against the wind…"

Legolas's eyes widened as he finally recognized the approaching oddity.  "Crebain from Dunland!"

"Hide!"  Aragorn shouts as he turned, running in Frodo's direction.

"Hurry!"  Boromir agreed with a shout, hastening Merry and Pippin along, albeit needlessly.  He seemed to look upon all four of the Hobbit's as children, most of the time.  This wasn't too hard to understand, most Men didn't know of the existence of the Hobbits -- for they rarely left their lands -- and if they happened to come across them, they often mistook them for children; because of their height.  Still, it was something that could easily become annoying with the passage of time…

But that wasn't something that anyone really noticed as they hurried to hide from the coming threat.  Aragorn certainly didn't as he made his way towards Frodo and Sam, who were scrambling down from the rocks.  "Take cover!"

Everyone was hurrying to do so, grabbing they're belongings and putting out the fire before hurrying into the bushes and rock crevices they'd made they're camp amongst.  They managed to make it into hiding just as the huge flock of bat-like-birds reached the area, swarming overhead.

Something gave them reason to turn back there; perhaps they didn't wish to stray far from the area they'd been sent to guard.  But whatever the case, the swarming mass that so disturbingly seemed to be an embodiment of darkness did eventually leave, heading back in the direction it'd come from.

Only then did the Fellowship move out from their hiding places, turning to Gandalf for guidance even as he shook his head with a sigh.  "Spies of Saruman…  The passage south is being watched…"  He looked up at a cold, inhospitable mountain that hovered in the distance.  "We must take the Pass of Caradhas…"

Harry sighed as he finished accepting the sorrowful farewells his foster-kin offered so freely, many of them barely restraining tears.  It wasn't hard to see why.  He'd only just returned to them, and had not yet had ample time to mourn the supposed passing of his soul mate…  Many of them clearly believed her gone for good, but he couldn't afford to do that…He could never afford to do that…

"Ready to go?"

The wizard turned and nodded to the Rúmil's inquiry, returning the soft smile both twins were offering him.  It was to be just the three of them now.  The Fellowship needed to be found, and amply protected, that task fell to them.  The rest of the Galadhrim, or at least those who had not all ready left for the West, were preparing for the coming battle.  Some of said preparation was, of course, helping the other witches and wizards from his home world become acquainted with this one, while they in turn offered advice on Wizarding defense and war tactics, most of which wasn't all that hard to follow.

He would have liked to stay, and see what his 'elders' had to offer Middle Earth, what he'd picked up from Hermione's book had been very interesting, but he knew there was plenty more to learn in all fields.  He'd already made the mistake, on a number of occasions, of thinking of the other witches and wizards as 'children', well some of them were, but they were very responsible children.  And, though even Dumbledore and Harry himself were terribly young, in comparison to the Elves, various experiences led them to accept this world, and live.

They had reacted rather well to the news that they were trapped in this world, which Voldemort was planning on taking over.  Harry hadn't been surprised when most volunteered immediately to help, even before he'd asked.  Most of them were Gryffindors, and those that weren't were still members of the DA, or the Order of the Phoenix.  He did have the sneaking suspicion that many of them were relieved to hear that Voldemort was attacking this world (instead of Earth), but that was neither here nor there…

Flashback

"Why did you ever tell us that your foster parents were royalty?"  Hermione broke the silence rather suddenly, her inquiry earning her odd gazes from everyone with the exception of the one her gaze was focused on.

Harry shrugged, closing his eyes to the world as he leaned back into a very relaxed position.  "You never asked?"

"Why on earth would we ever think to ask?!"

"Uh…excuse me?"  Ron shifted uncomfortably as Hermione's glare snapped over to him, making Harry's one-eyed look appear all the more relaxed.  "What are you talking about?"

"Apparently," Harry offered with another small shrug, "Hermione finds the identities of my foster parents rather unsettling."

"They're royalty!  And you never said anything about being a prince!"

"Royalty?"  Fred and George cut in at the same time, "A prince?  Him?"

"Yes!"  Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes at their antics.  "Don't you remember?  He--" here she pointed at Harry, who was watching her in an obviously amused fashion, -- "said that his foster parents were called Galadriel and Celeborn!  If you care to remember the names of our hosts, they're the same people!"

"Couldn't they just have the same name?"  Neville asked uncertainly, flinching back only slightly when the bushy haired brunette glared at him.

"If he'd only told us the name of one of them, perhaps, but both of them?"

"Alright all ready, Granger, you've made your point."  Draco drawled out, smirking when she glared at him.  "Potter's a prince in this world.  So what.  Big deal.  Move on."

"But--"

"What, Hermione?"  Harry stopped her, his voice still calm, but a bit tenser than before.  "Why does it matter, really?  It's not like I lied.  Far too much happened to me here for me to tell you everything, so I left a lot out.  As Draco so aptly put it, so what?  Why does it bother you so much?"

"I…Well, I…  I don't know…"  Hermione trailed off for a minute, then shook her head, "You should've told us, that's all."

"Alright," the wizard nodded, "Perhaps I should have.  I apologize….  Now, perhaps we can get back to the purpose for this meeting?"  He waited until everybody seemed to be waiting attentively, their curiosity fairly plain to see.  "At present, there is no way to return to Earth."

He probably should have picked a more gentle way of stating that fact; he was after all acquainted with how painful and worrisome it was to hear.  It was exactly the same thing Galadriel had told him many centuries before.

To say that it panicked the other witches and wizards was a severe understatement.  Many of them were put beside themselves almost instantly, as was shown by the shouts and bangs of chairs that followed his proclamation of that small fact.

Fortunately, though, it did not panic everybody.  Some of the Order of the Phoenix and even some DA members followed their respective leader's examples and remained composed, thus allowing Dumbledore to quiet the others with a question bound for Harry.

"Is there any particular reason for this?"

Harry nodded, "At present, Middle Earth is being dragged deeper and deeper into a world war…  The Lord of Mordor, Sauron, had allied himself with Saruman, the head Istari of Isengard, and together they are preparing vast armies to destroy the kingdoms that surround them….  It should have been a fairly balanced fight, the forces of Light in this world have held the Darkness as bay for numerous ages, but the balance has been broken…"

"By us?"  Hermione asked, frowning.  "That wouldn't make any sense…  It wouldn't be a problem, because we're of the Light, so we would tip the balance in favor of the Light automatically, wouldn't we?"

"We were not the only ones brought here."

"Then Voldemort is here as well?"  Dumbledore summarized his voice a bit heavier than usual, and the twinkle that seemed so innate a part of his gaze was absent.

Again, the foster-son of the Rulers of the Galadhrim sighed, before nodding his head.  "From what the Lady can decipher, most of the witches and wizards in Hogsmeade with definite standings in the war were brought here.  Those of the Light are all those around you, brought to Lothlórien.  Those of the Dark landed in Mordor, the hellish kingdom of Sauron.  Voldemort has chosen to ally himself and the Death Eaters with him, those who were attacking Hogsmeade, to Sauron, in his quest for dominion over all life on this earth."  Harry paused for a moment, before continuing in a decidedly wearied tone.  "As I said, before our arrival the sides were more or less even.  But now…  Sauron already has armies comprising of millions of Orcs, trolls, goblins, dark men and other monsters.  Added to that, he has ensnared the Istari Wizard, Saruman, in his game for power, and another army is being built their, undoubtedly to be unleashed some time in the near future….  Saruman was the only being of true power and cunning that Sauron commanded a few days back… with our arrival, though, that changed.  He now has Voldemort and the Death Eaters, wizards with a taste for dark power and a capacity for warfare, at his call."

"So the balance favors the Dark Forces."  Everyone turned to see Harry's foster parents standing in the entryway, watching them as Galadriel continued.  "And we must ask if you are disposed to change that."

End of Flashback

The Light wizards had barely hesitated.  The more cautious members of the group had raised several points of concern, but at the heart of the matter was the fact that if they didn't help, the Forces of Darkness would win, and they would have no where to go, and certainly no way to get back to Earth.  Besides, most of them were Gryffindors, so that was that.

Harry shook his head, a soft smile gracing his face, which even now bore the signs of disillusionment and sorrow.  With a sigh he gracefully mounted the regal white stallion his foster-father had presented to him a short time before.  It was truly a fine steed, a descendent of Wile his second horse, which had been sired by his first, Wilin, the horse Celeborn had given to him many centuries before.  He remembered both mounts acutely, and missed them dearly, but it had been their time.  But this mount, Hwesta, would surely be quite capable of carrying him through many perils, just as both his ancestors had.  Hwesta was much more like Wilin in personality, his free-spirited, bold and exuberant incredible when compared to Wile's placid, easy-going nature.  Harry knew that that was probably good though.  Wile had never ridden into battle, and indeed had been more like his dam than his sire, and as Ránëwén had felt no trouble pointing out, certainly not a warhorse…

The wizard shook his head again to clear it, before sharply focusing his attention on the other two mounted beings; the twins.  All three of them were dressed alike, in the manner of Galadrim guards, cool grays blended with gentle greens beneath a gray cloak that was made for camouflage.

"Shall we head west, to the Caradhras Pass?"  He offered, his voice quiet, betraying none of the pains that continued to plague him.

"Winter is approaching," Camthalion pointed out.  "It may be too rough."

Harry shrugged, "Then we can Apparate, or rather, I can Apparate the three of us."

The twins nodded in silent agreement before nudging their mounts into motion alongside his.

The Guardians of the Golden Wood watched the trio as it departed at a justly fast pace, headed to the West, where Imladris lay.

"But is it really our place, Albus?"  Professor Sprout inquired worriedly as she and the other witches and wizards from Earth poured over the maps that the Lord and Lady of this fairytale-like realm had offered them.

"What choice do we have, Pomona?"  Minerva McGonagall broke in with a sigh, shaking her head.  "If we don't help, we don't have any chance of going home.  In which case we'd be stuck with this world anyhow…  And I'd rather not live in a world ruled by Darkness, thank you very much."

"I agree," Professor Dumbledore offered with a nod, sighing afterward.  "What's more, I'd like to see more of this world.  Harry is quite attached to it, and I believe seeing it in peaceful times might show us why."

"And it's not as though we're getting any older," the Head of Slytherin offered darkly, while he scowled at some of the Elvish writing on the map he was trying to read.

"There is that," Dumbledore agreed, an amused twinkle in his eye as he surveyed those around him.

Almost the entire Order had been brought here, just as the Lady Galadriel said most of Voldemort's Death Eaters had been.

So they were meant to balance each other out.  It only made sense.

But what of the students?  Yes, the fact that they'd rallied around Harry to form a 'Defense Group' named in the headmaster's own honor, set them apart from the students somewhat, but did that mean that other students were here as well?  Students that were loyal to Voldemort, perhaps?

Common sense would dictate so.

The children were currently abed; exhausted by the rigorous training Sirius, Remus, and Alastor had put them through that afternoon.  That left the teachers and the other adults room to work.  Only a dozen members of the order had been pulled into this world.  The order was much larger than that, but they were the only ones close enough to Harry, it seemed, to be pulled along.  Fortunately though, they were among the hardest working people the British Wizarding World knew, extremely dedicated and loyal.

Minerva McGonagall; Head of Gryffindor House and his ever faithful second-in-command, both as the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts, and in the day to day running of the Order.  A few locks of her graying black hair had managed to slip out of the tight bun she had on the back of her head, but she'd made no effort to fix it, she was far too busy concentrating to bother, and she probably wouldn't even bother with fixing her glassed each time they slipped, if she didn't need them to see the map that held her undivided attention.

Severus Snape; a white sheep from a black family, much like Sirius.  Dumbledore knew without a doubt that Severus's position as spy was lost, for Voldemort would surely be suspicious of the fact that only one of his Death Eaters had landed among the Light Forces.  Nonetheless, the Potions Master was a powerful ally, and a good friend, as much as Sirius would scoff at the idea.  He was a loyal as any Hufflepuff, and just a brave as any of the Gryffindors, if a bit more reserved.  Combined with the cunning that had made him a part of the House he was now Head to, and the last of the Snapes was not someone to be taken likely, and someone the Hogwarts Headmaster was immensely pleased to have with him.

The Weasleys were as constructive and devoted as ever, each giving the task they'd accepted their very best.  Arthur was looking over another map with Kingsley and Nymphadora, while Molly conferred with the Elf, Orophin; another one of Harry's in-laws, about supplies for food, healing, and whatnot, along with the means to transport them.  Charlie was looking over some of the diagrams the Galadhrim had provided, scrutinizing the various monsters they might find themselves coming against for weaknesses.  Judging by the list he was accumulating, he was having quite a bit of success; a heartening thought, to be sure.  Bill was struggling with some of the Elven documents, with the help of the Elf-maid Tári, carefully configuring them in the Arithmatic equations that so few understood.

Sirius and Remus didn't appear to be paying the map they were supposed to be looking over much mind.  That wasn't really surprising.  They more then any body had reason to be pained by the recent events.  Harry was most definitely no longer a child…they'd missed his life.  A stinging thought for the two men who'd sworn to always look out for the son of their best friend.

Elphias and Dedalus were apparently having at least some success with the ingenious tome Ms. Granger had constructed at the end of her forth year.  Both had lists that were several feet long and were writing at a speed that made his own wrist ache slightly in sympathy.

Mundungus had fallen asleep, and surprisingly Alastor hadn't seen fit to yell at him yet for it, instead choosing to continue working with the map they were supposed to be working on together on his own.  Though maybe that really wasn't really all too surprising, as the pair had had quite a bit of difficulty working together when they'd been awake anyhow.  Dumbledore sighed at that memory of only a few short hours before.  He really had hoped they'd be able to overcome their difference for the sake of their mutual cause.

Strurgis had moved away from the map he'd been studying for the last few hours, obviously to stretch his long legs.  He was now conferring with another elf on the landing just outside the doorway.  After a few moments, he came back in, and was making his way back to his map when Dumbledore decided to interrupt his comrades.

"Perhaps we should compare notes now, my friends?"  He offered in a kindly tone, setting the parchment he'd been studying down.  It was scroll that Harry had been kind enough to provide him with before his departure.  And it contained many of the ideas the boy had cooked up for combat.  Dumbledore shook his head bemusedly as he caught himself.  Harry was no longer a 'boy'…  He'd do well to remember that.  With a sigh, he looked around the room's occupants, all of whom were watching him intently.  "Any volunteers to open?" 

"Elerossë," Rúmil waited until he had Harry's attention, before nodding to an area off to the side of the trail they were riding down.  "Those tracks…"

"Look a great deal like the kind a group such as the one we seek might leave," Harry nodded in agreement, while gently stroking his mount's neck, to sooth its obvious impatience.  "Then they are already farther along then we'd thought."

"Mithrandir is guiding them," Camthalion offered with a shrug.  "And the Heir of Isilduir has lived for a long while as a Ranger."

"This would offer them a considerable advantage, in normal circumstances."  Harry nodded again, before dismounting to kneel down to take a closer look at the trail, while his companions watched.  After a few moments he nodded again, "Yes…These tracks fit the description of the Fellowship heri'amilnin offered of the Fellowship."  He thought for a few moments before nodding once more.  "If they follow this same course for another few weeks, they should reach the Gap of Rohan before true winter hits…  They'd probably camp somewhere that offered them a clear few of the Mountains."

"Any ideas?"

"A few," the wizard sighed, before mounting again.  He then held out his hands, easily accepting their mounts reins before reaching inside himself and Apparating all three of them once again, this time back in the direction they'd come from, to one of the areas they'd skipped.

Upon reaching the eastern side of the Pass of Caradhras, it'd been easy to see that the mountain would not welcome them, so he'd Apparated them from there to the other side, and from there to one of the places he'd frequented while en-route to Imladris in the past.

Now they arrived with a pop, looking out at an area that offered the western view of Caradhras.

"Well, it seems you and Gandalf have similar tastes, mellon nin," Rúmil offered with a gentle grin, a spark of humor in his eyes as he nodded to the remains of a campfire a short distance away.  "That can't be more than two days old."

His twin nodded, "I agree."

But Harry didn't bother replying right away, his sharp emerald eyes scanning their surrounding, while a frown quickly marked his misleadingly youthful features.

"Man ta?"  Camthalion inquired as he noted the other's unease.

Harry jerked his head towards the side of the 'mountain' that offered a view of Caradhras.  "The trail goes in the direction of the Red Horn, not the Southern Pass."

The twins were frowning now too, as they followed his exampled in dismounting, not bother to tie their mounts to anything, for they weren't staying long, and despite Hwesta's restless spirit, he was just as well trained as any Elven stallion, as were the twin's mounts.

"Something must have happened," Rúmil recapitulated unnecessarily, looking around, his azure eyes probing.

"There," Camthalion pointed to one of the boulders, "Is that wilin limba?"

"And there to the south," Harry nodded in the direction of the southern pass, his gaze focused on the distant break in the mountains.  "Crebain."

"They couldn't risk the passage, for it would leave them pray to Saruman's spies, and his spells."  Camthalion nodded, then his frown deepened, "So they…"

"Are going to climb Caradhras," Harry finished when his companion stopped, his tone firm.

"So late in the autumn?  With the strongest Istari in the land against them?"  Rúmil demanded incredulously, shaking his head.  "They're fools!"

"Nevertheless, that is there path, and therefore ours," Harry said, while remounting.  He waited until the twins had also done so, before Apparating them to the foot of the Red Horn.

"Are you enjoying your stay in Caras Galadhon?"  Lady Galadriel inquired politely, breaking the tense silence that hung around the majestic dining room, with a voice that belied no insecurities.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded respectfully, offering a pleasant smile as he looked up from the goblet that his dessert had been served in, which he'd been examining with outright fascination for some time.  All of the goblets had different scenes depicted artistically on their pristine surfaces; scenes that he presumed were from either Elven history, or legend…or perhaps both?  "Quite enjoyable, thank you."

"And you have all the tools you need?"  Lord Celeborn queried pleasantly, his wise gaze searching.  "You do not need anything more?"

"Not at the moment, thank you."  The Hogwarts Headmaster replied, bowing his head slightly, before rising with a pleasant smile.  "I think it might be best if we tucked in at the moment…and perhaps made more plans in the morning?"  He offered, well aware of how utterly exhausted his comrades were after hours of research both the night before and the whole of the day that led up to this excellent and enlightening meal.

Apparently, the Lord and Lady had also noticed their guests' fatigue, for they wasted no time in offering their leave, before departing themselves.

Supper had indeed been an informative affair.  Most of the talk had focused around plans for the upcoming conflicts, along with comparisons of histories, those of Sauron and Voldemort.  Though they had focused on more pleasant matters later on, such as Harry's upbringing in this lovely city.

He found it more then a little reassuring to hear the Lord and Lady speak of Harry so affectionately.  At least the young orphan had eventually managed to find a true home.  The Weasley had treated Harry as an adoptive member of their family, true, but not to the extent the Elven rulers had.  To the Weasleys, Harry was certainly a beloved friend, but that was the most he could really be, in that tightly knit family.  Something more had been achieved with Galadriel and through her Celeborn.  He didn't know what it was that gave them the feel of true kin, but he was thankful for it.

The others had reacted in various ways.  Severus hadn't shown much emotion at all, while Minerva had clearly been just as pleased as he.  Sirius and Remus were put to ease slightly by the memoirs, though they clearly wished they'd been a part of them.  Molly and Arthur's reactions were much the same, to a somewhat lesser degree.

"Master Lupin?"

The wizards stopped on their way out the door, turning back as one at the Lady's call.

Galadriel herself offered a kind smile as she focused on Remus, "Might I have a few words with you?  It wouldn't take long."

Remus blinked, before nodding in compliance, watching with only slight trepidation as his fellow wizards departed.

There were few times in his life when Remus Lupin had felt quite as nervous as he did now.  This evening had been both wonderful and terrible, all rolled into one sitting.  The war talks had obviously been a success, which was undoubtedly why conversation had turned to the one other common ground they shared: Harry.

Though, come to think of it, Harry had lived here with Elves a lot longer then he'd lived on Earth.  The affectionate accounts the Lord and Lady offered were proof of that…  Could he really feel any tie to his own world, by comparison?

"You are troubled…"

Remus looked up with a start, suddenly realizing how withdrawn he'd been acting.  He bowed apologetically to his hosts before offering his regret.  "Forgive me, milord, milady, I meant no disrespect."

A soft, musical laughter made him look up hesitantly, to be met by the wondrous sight of the Lady of Light's radiant smile.  "It is hardly something to be repentant for, young Arminas.  You and young Aikanáro have every right to disappointment at not seeing Elerossë reach adulthood."

The wizard nodded slowly, before blinking.  "Arminas?  Aikanáro?"

"They are the names Harry chose for you, during his time here."  Lord Celeborn told him, the gentle smile on his face matching his spouse's.  "It was very early in his stay, while he was still learning our language, so he may not remember doing so, but we remember.  Anyone that has earned his affection merits acquaintance."

"Elu Arminas Táralóm, the mentor, and Aikanáro Nénharma, the scarred protector; both loyal to their past and promises, with hidden forms that many fear…  Though yours only appears when Tilion brings the Telperion in close proximity to yourself."

It took the werewolf no more than a few short moments to realize what she meant, and the inference made him stiffen.  That was the other reason he'd been restless he suddenly realized, the full moon must be near in this world.  "Lady…" he stopped when his hostess raised a pale, graceful hand.

"There is a demon inside of you, we know.  But that does not mean you are evil, nor dangerous."  The gaze that was focused on him was the only feature that truly showed how old she was.  Set in a beautiful, eternally youthful face were two sapphire eyes that bore the weight of many centuries of experience, and the wisdom prolonged existence was bound to fashion.  "You control it, the malevolent spirit within.  You have controlled it all of your life, only loosing control when it was strengthened by that which its kinfolk pay high tribute to…  It is a very noble task, which you should be commended for, not shunned."

Remus remained silent, his eyes wider than usual as he stared at them in utter shock.

"We may be able to help you, young Elu," the Lady continued, her melodic voice gentle and considerate.  "If you will let us."

"I…H-How?"  Remus asked, fighting to reign in his emotions.  "How could you help me?  I admit that I hadn't thought to see if the moon in these skies matched my home world's, but other than locking me up for the duration of the moon's fullest hours…I really don't see what could be done."

"The Healers of your world have made many remarkable advances, that is true," the Lord of the Galadhrim offered after a moments pause.  "But where spirit and magic is concerned, their methods are far behind those of Elven making.  You must make peace with the demon inside you, you must triumph over it; or you will never know true peace."

"Triumph…but how?"

"That," Galadriel offered another kind smile, "is where you need my help.  The full moon is still many days off, so we have time.  I will send for you tomorrow, after midday.  Until then, you must go to your well-deserved and quite necessary rest."

Realizing that he was being dismissed, Remus had just enough sense to bow before hurriedly leaving the room, to make his way to the telain that served as a home to both Sirius and himself, a short distance away, his confused mind only just registering the Lady's send-off, "Sleep well, young Elu."

"Many of the youths that are here with us now claim to have been as far off as the Slytherin dormitories before being pulled here, Lucius.  Why your son is not among them demands investigation.  Is he not loyal to my cause?"

"I have had no reason to think so, my lord."  Lucius Malfoy replied, bowing deeply to his leader, who stood looking out one of Barad-dûr's windows, at the hellish landscape below.  "He was born to follow you."

"Born, yes," the Dark Lord nodded, "but how was he raised?"

"He never showed any hesitations towards our cause, my lord."

"Of course not," the heir of Slytherin shook his head, "you would not have allowed that."

"No, my lord, I would not.  Never."  The blonde's verification lacked any diffidence whatsoever.  When the older wizard didn't speak again, he hesitantly added, "Perhaps it was something to do with the wards, my lord.  He may have been with Severus, my lord.  He was not pulled here."

"No, he was not."  Voldemort replied softly, his strangely calm, yet nonetheless demonic gaze still on the land below, where the natives of this depraved land were gathering.  "We shall see, I suppose.  But for now, we mustn't keep our new subordinates waiting."

Malfoy bowed again as his lord swept past, carefully ignoring the sweat that graced his brow.

Draco Malfoy sighed as he made his way through the glittering city, not quite sure what had made him get out of bed for this midnight stroll, but he really didn't feel like heading back to bed.

This city was a strange one, to be sure.  But that didn't make it any less amazing.  It was a magical city, to be sure.  He could feel it in the very air.  Magic far older and greater than even that which Hogwarts boasted.  It hummed through the air, the earth, everything, a constant, reassuring presence to a perplexed mind that was accustomed to being alone.  It was undoubtedly this power, at least in part, that made the trees grow to towering heights of gold and silver, while offering protection to its inhabitants.

"You are awake rather late, my young friend."

He started, turning sharply towards the voice, and paling slightly when his eyes were graced with the sight of the city's fair ruler.  "Lady…" he bowed uncertainly.

"There's no need for that," the Elf waived him up with an amused smile, before gesturing for him to walk with her, which he did, with only a little hesitation.

"I…I apologize if I woke you, lady…" the teenager offered uncertainly after a few moments of silence.

To his surprise, she laughed.  "Oh certainly not, young one."  The she offered him another kind smile.  "My people need little sleep, and I don't feel the need to take it.  Though your concern is appreciated."  This time, she didn't leave him waiting for long, so he wasn't forced to make sense of his even more bewildered brain just yet.  "You are unsure of yourself, and your place here."

The Malfoy heir stopped abruptly, raising his perplexed, silvery eyes to meet hers.  Was she a Legilimens, then?  That was the only thing that could explain how she knew what he was thinking…but he hadn't met her gaze!  That was one reason he made a point of not looking adults in the eye more than necessary.  That was how Legilimens' examined your thoughts, how they saw into your mind.  His father had made sure to drive that point home at a very young age, which was why he never looked into his eyes either.

'That may be so, in your world, young one, but there are many other forms of magic.'

Draco suppressed the urge to gulp, while nervously replying, "You…You can read my thoughts?"

'If I wish to yet, though your pain is rather difficult to ignore in any case.'  She replied with a nod, before continuing down the path they'd been walking on, while still conversing with him, her voice; terrible in its power and beauty, echoing within his mind.  'My kin are naturally empathetic, though, so your pain was rather difficult to ignore.  I would like to offer you my aid.'

"Aid…Lady?"  Draco asked hesitantly, stopping when he realized they'd reached the top of a set of stairs that went down into strangely empty area.  After a moment he followed the Elven Lady down into the clearing, his thoughts still confused as they fell on a pedestal in the center of the clearing, upon which rested a strange mirror.

The Lady of the Golden Wood left him in silence for several moments, as she filled a pitcher of crystalline water at a fountain along the other side of the grove, before coming back towards him, and stopping at the mirror.  The soft smile that had been almost as ever-present on her fair face as the annoying twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was gone, replaced by a somber façade.  "Will you look into my Mirror?"

Draco blinked, his eyes automatically snapping back down towards said mirror, before looking up at her once again.  "Is it a magic mirror?"

The small smile she offered was disquietingly analogous to the smirk his family was both famous and infamous for, but instead of replying right away, she took another step towards the mirror, moving the water pitcher our of the protective circle of her arms and holding is a good distance above the mirror before tipping it slightly, to let a crystalline cascade flow out of it.  She then chose to reply, while most of his attention was focused on the soothing and yet oddly enrapturing sight the waters journey made.  "It offers many answers, many possibilities.  And can do just as much harm as good.  It is a chance."  That said, she brought the pitcher upright once again, before walking over to the fountain again, and placing it along the edge, which seemed to be built for it.  "But is it a chance you are willing to take?"

Not sure of what to say to that, the young wizard remained silent, waiting for her to continue, which she did.

"You are not a Gryffindor, not prone to taking risks, no matter what the cause; you are cautious.  You are not a Hufflepuff; not inclined to trust, and indeed, you've had little reason to.  You are not a Ravenclaw; so this water does not inspire an unquenchable thirst for knowledge; just curiosity.  You are a Slytherin; clever and ambitious; used to watching and waiting until the opportune moment for profitable action.  Is now such a moment, young one?  Or is it not?"

"I…"  Draco stopped, his former anxiety returning full force.

She'd just pointed out one of the things that made him different.  Whereas most of his housemates, and even his own father were on the other side, he was here, with the Head of his school House the only Slytherin nearby.

Was that why he felt so out of place?  Was it a good enough reason to take the other side?

He didn't know…  All he had was questions…He didn't have any answers…

Answers…  Perhaps he should look into this mirror.  If that was what it offered, he really didn't have anything to loose, now did he?

That decided, he drew in a deep breath of the crisp autumnal air, before taking the remaining few steps to the center of the clearing, where he stood looking down into the pool that offered a view of his own reflection backed by darkness.

Maybe that was what made him take it seriously.  If there had been an atrocious sum of spoke and glitter it'd look far too much like Divination for him to consider it authentic, but this didn't look fake…  It looked… powerful.

And that thought wasn't challenged when it began to change, starting with a single ripple at the center of the dish, which broke his watching reflection, before pulling his psyche inward.

"You are a Malfoy, Draco," he heard his father's voice again, the forbidding image his father had made to his six-year-old mind snapping into focus on the aquatic surface.  "It's past time you started acting like one!"

"He is very young, Lucius, dear," he remembered his mother intervening, as she'd done from time to time, "you can't really expect him to--"

The impact of the open handed blow that had echoed around the room back then was no less alarming now, followed by the cry his six-year-old self offered as he fan over to his mother, where she'd fallen on the floor, "Mother!"

"If I ever want your opinion, I will ask for it, Narcissa, darling."  The Head of the Malfoy family snapped, glaring down at her where she was sitting on the soft green carpeting, one hand to her reddening cheek, and the other gently rubbing her son's back as he clung to her.  The sounds of his sobs drew the older Malfoy's disgusted glare with ease, "And stop that infernal racket!" he added sharply.  "Malfoys do not cry!"

Draco swallowed in order to rewet his throat as he watched his six-year-old self turn his tear-stained face slightly, to watch from within his mother's embrace as his father swept away regally.  He didn't have time to think about that, the last time he'd ever cried, as the image changed to another, slightly more recent image.

"Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Malfoy," Ollivander offered an amiable nod as the then eleven-year-old Draco followed his father into the wand shop.  "Hogwarts bound, I presume?"

"Of course," His father replied coolly, gazing down at the other wizard with cold eyes.  "Draco."

He remembered how nervous he'd felt when he'd walked into that store, and he really did look it, as he stepped out from behind his father to raise an uncertain stare up to the older wizard.

"Your wand arm, if you please, Mr. Malfoy," Ollivander directed firmly as he drew a roll of magical measuring tape out of a drawer.

His younger self held out his right arm, and didn't even blink when the tape leapt at him and immediately began measuring.

"Your wand, I trust, has kept well, Mr. Malfoy?" the wand maker threw the inquiry over his shoulder as he began taking some boxes off of the shelves.

"It has," the older Malfoy replied, while watching Draco.

Draco remembered then quite vividly too, how amusing he'd found the measuring tape.  It really didn't need to measure the distance between his nostrils, but he'd made a humorous sight, staring at it cross-eyed as his eleven-year-old self was now doing.  He also remembered suddenly becoming aware of the weight of his father's stare, which was why he'd slapped the tape away when it began measuring the space between his eyes.

"That'll do," the wand-maker had called abruptly, so much so that Draco now got the sense that he'd been waiting for something like that.  But at the time he'd been more concerned with the boxes on the counter, one of which Mr. Ollivander was opening as he approached him.  "Right then, Mr. Malfoy.  Try this one.  Maple and phoenix feather.  Seven inches, quite whippy."

He hadn't felt anything when he'd waived the peculiar wand around.  This was presumably why the wand maker had snatched it back so quickly.

"No, no, that won't do.  Try this one," he instructed, handing him another wand.  "Beachwood and dragon heartstring.  Nine inches.  Nice and flexible."  But he'd snatched that one back before he'd even had a chance to try a wave.  "No, no -- here, ebony and dragon heartstring, ten inches, quite strict.  Go on, go on, try it out."

He'd only gotten halfway though a wave before the wand was snatched back.

"Hmm, close, but not quite…perhaps yew?"  He'd moved back to the shelves, climbing the ladder until he reached the top shelf, and pulled one of those boxes down.  "Here we go; Yew with dragon's heartstring, ten and a half inches, exacting but constrained.  Give it a wave."

He remembered the sudden warmth that had seeped into his hand and through his body, the thrill that this was the one even before he'd waived it threw the air, causing it to shoot off a stream of silver and gold sparks.

"Oh, well done, Mr. Malfoy!  Well done indeed.  It seems we have a match."

Draco hadn't wanted to part with his wand, but it was what was expected of him, so it wasn't surprising that he did so readily.

"That will be fourteen Galleons, Mr. Malfoy.  Thank you," The wand maker bowed as they departed, "A good day to you!"

He remembered the relief, and the complete and utter feeling of contentment he'd felt in that moment, when he and his wand had first become acquainted.  The reason for the relief was obvious.  Somewhere, buried down deep inside him had been that terrible fear that maybe; just maybe, he wouldn't measure up.  He knew he wasn't a Squib, but his father had always talked about people who barely had any grasp of their powers, or only just enough to use their wand.

Most of them were labeled as Squibs and sent away before the end of their first year at school, no use in wasting anything on them, after all.  At least, that was what his father had always told him, when he was growing up.  But he had his doubts now; he'd seen far too many people who might fit that description to not reconsider the train of thought.  Longbottom had been the first was to offer insight into that.  Not intentionally, of course, but with all of the other's inadequacies, he'd made it through his first year.  Now he knew that beneath the nervous exterior was a good deal of strength, but before it had given him reason to doubt.  Perhaps he should thank Longbottom for that…maybe…  That had turned his attention to that there were people around him that really didn't measure up in his mind.  For starters; Crabbe and Goyle, seniors and juniors…

Draco shook his head to clear his thoughts, blinking slightly as he noticed another ripple crossing the mirrors surface, before it changed into another distant scene.  This one wasn't that far after the first, and it was one he still looked back on with at least a small amount of hurt, though he was fully aware of the fact that he had been a jerk…

"Is it true?" he remembered asking, and he could see in retrospect that the ascendancy façade he'd decided to act with at school, the way his father had taught him to behave in public; like a Malfoy: poised, wintry and beyond compare, had slipped a little to reveal.  In its place was a glimmer of the very real interest in the boy he was addressing, the boy he'd very nearly ignored when he'd first met him in Madam Malkins.  "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment.  So it's you, is it?"

The effect of the other boy's distinctive gaze was dimmed only slightly by the unsightly glasses he wore balanced precariously on his nose, and more so by the fact that he didn't focus on Draco himself for long, instead choosing to glance past him with a frown.  He noticed this after glancing up at the other boy's forehead, to make sure the scar was really there.  The dark-haired wizard didn't look like much, after all.  If not for his scar and his eyes, he'd easily be passed up as a scrawny little no body…

But there was something about him that made him doubt that.  He wasn't sure what it was.  Power, maybe?  The Boy-Who-Lived had been responsible for the downfall of the Dark Lord, when he was only a little over a year old, after all.

He'd like to think that he would've known even then that Harry Potter was more then he appeared to be, and even more then he was said to be…  But he was almost entirely sure the only reason he'd gone to that compartment to introduce himself was because of the other boy's unrivaled fame.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this Goyle," he'd commented carelessly, not letting any of his irritation at being ignored seep into his voice as he made the introduction, gesturing to each in turn.  His eleven-year-old had been very please when the soon-to-be Golden Boy's gaze had snapped back to him, and he'd stepped farther into the train compartment confidently as he continued.  "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

A slight cough, which was rather obviously to suppress laughter, came from the seat across from the other wizard.  It was the first time he'd noticed the redhead, but that didn't mean he couldn't figure out who it was.  Though he really could have been more intelligent about addressing his presence.  As it was, he'd still been sensitive about his name, which he'd been teased for a few times in his youth, before his father made it clear that such mockery wouldn't be tolerated.

"Think my name's funny, do you?"  He'd snapped, sneering, as he looked the other up and down.  "No need to ask who you are.  My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children they can afford."  And then he'd turned his attention away from the irate wizard, sneer still in place as he sought to enlighten the Boy-Who-Lived.  "You'll soon find out some Wizarding families are better than others, Potter.  You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort.  I can help you there."

To say he'd been shocked when the other wizard hardly glanced at his hand before meeting his eyes and refusing it, would be a severe understatement.  Most, his father had told him, would consider it a great honor, to be offered the friendship of a Malfoy, and as a very near equal, no less.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."  Potter had replied, rather coolly.

He knew that he didn't quite color at the affront, but his ears probably reddened slightly.  "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he'd told the other slowly, after a few moments of tense silence.  "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents.  They didn't know what was good for them, either.  You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

That, he certainly knew in retrospect, had been going much too far.  Though really all of it hadn't been quite near right.  And it had escalated to the point where only a two millennia reprieve could make one forgive the other enough to make amends…

Apparently the mirror thought that this time-frame had been important for him, because the next incident had be only a little while later.  The Sorting…something he'd been both anticipating and dreading ever since the relief at (finally) receiving his Hogwarts letter had faded a bit.

Professor McGonagall was no less intimidating in person then he'd always thought she'd be, from his father's descriptions.  Though he hadn't expected her to be…he didn't know…  But he'd expected her to be a bit like his father, but she wasn't.  She was obviously strict yes, but she didn't have the same feel to her that his father did.

She should be getting to his name soon…Granger, a worthless Mudblood…  Longbottom, a pureblood, but nonetheless a pansy…  Morag MacDougal and people laughed at his name…  And finally:

"Draco Malfoy!"

The swagger he'd put in his step as he went forward had been all for show.  Inside he was more nervous than he could ever remember feeling before.

This was it.

If he didn't make the cut…

What would happen to him?

Father would never take him back…

Would he go to an orphanage, then?  A Muggle orphanage?

NO!  He couldn't!  He simply couldn't!

'Slytherin!  Slytherin!  I have to be in Slytherin!"

Mercifully, the Hat apparently agreed, and shouted out his House only a short moment after being placed on his head.  "SLYTHERIN!"

That hadn't been the last time he'd doubted himself, but at least he was a Hogwarts student then.  And there really weren't words for how proud (and relieved) he'd been, to receive his father's letter of approval the following morning; a rare thing, from his cold, aloof sire.  He'd sworn to himself then that he'd make his father proud if it was the last thing he did.  This was undoubtedly part of the reason he'd learned to hate the Golden Trio so much.  Hermione Granger, the Mudblood that he could never thrash academically, was one of them.

"Granger is not a name I am acquainted with…"  His father had shaken his head, his voice dangerously quiet as he spoke to his son, while reading the morning paper the morning Draco had received his grades from his first year studies.

He'd been at or near the top of all his classes, and when his grades were averaged, he was the second highest in the whole year.  But 'second best' is not really good enough for a Malfoy…

The soon-to-be twelve-year-old Draco shifted uncomfortably, keeping his eyes on his breakfast as he meticulously cut a piece of sausage in half before spearing it with his fork and bringing up to his mouth.  After he'd chewed and swallowed the animal protein, he risked a quiet reply.  "That's probably because it's a Muggle name…"

"Muggle?"  The elder blonde murmured after a moment's silence, the word rolling off his tongue in a way that made it seem all the more disgusting…and intolerable.  "A Mudblood," he continued in the same dark tone.  "You allowed yourself to be topped, by a Mudblood."

"I didn't let her beat be!"  Draco remembered insisting neurotically, "She just did!"

"That simply is not possible," his father returned, choosing then raise his icy glare to his son's face.  "A witch of Muggle birth is simply not capable of being more magically gifted then a witch or wizard of magical birth and heritage.  That she was able to beat you, you obviously weren't showing anywhere near enough effort."  He rose then, to his towering height of foot , his chilling gaze not moving from his heir's wide eyes.  "I expect you to show the proper amount of effort in this coming school year.  One who does not consider losing to a Mudblood -- a Gryffindor Mudblood, especially -- the highest shame, is hardly worthy of this family's name!"

Then the elder had gracefully stalked off, to leave his young son in a state of incredible confusion, pain and fear…

That was the first, but certainly not the last time that his father had scolded him for his failings.  It was by far the kindest, gentlest of the experiences as well.  Though it certainly hadn't felt like it at the time…  To his nearing twelve-year-old mind, the experience had been sheer torture.  And it was that which had made him so bitter as the years drew on.  That memory, and following ones, was always there; tormenting him.

But there had come a point when that had changed, and that appeared to be around the time the mirror now decided to focus on.

"Well, I suppose now's as good a time as any…" the raven-haired wizard sighed, turning slightly to extend his hand to the open air behind him.  "Man merne le ilya an omenta sii, melda nin?"

Before he, or anyone else there could inquire -- or demand -- after the strange, beautiful language he'd spoken in, a feminine, musical voice spoke up in reply, while a delicate hand appeared out of thin air to accept the Gryffindors offered hand.  "Valinale…"

The hand was attached to a long, slender arm, and the rich indigo fabric of her silk robe concealed the unblemished skin that graced that arm from the wrist to the shoulder.  The robe was not the kind he was used to seeing, not at all.  It was a bit more…formal than that.  It was almost completely one piece, by it looked like a robe, for the upper part was mostly folded back, to reveal a form fitting, white silky blouse underneath.  The robe's coloring put a commendable emphasis on the purple highlights in her hair, highlights so dark that they were almost the same midnight shade as the rest of her silken mane.  The blouse was a little loose around her neck; so that it didn't really touch it at all, just fell to the side in the same stylish, striking poise.

It was easy to see that he was not the only one who was almost completely shocked by the lady's appearance.  Even Granger and Weasley looked stunned!

This was proved when Granger herself chose to break the silence, albeit uncertainly.  "Who…?  What…?"

"This is Ránëwén Galathil," Potter told her, almost nonchalantly, "or Violet -- if you prefer -- of the Elves."

That brought him out of his momentary stupor.  He scrutinized her closely as he spoke with her, eyeing her innate radiance and her peculiar ears with interest even as chatter began and continued around him.

This was certainly no house elf…She had to be one of the other kind…  The ones the servants always referred to as 'the Great Ones', or something along those lines…

He was drawn out of his thoughts rather quickly when the lady emitted a short, melodious laugh.  "I am no House Elf, Master Macmillion.  I am a True Elf, one of the First Born."

And it clicked. "The Eldar Race?" he inquired, as he remembered having read about them in one of the older sections of the Malfoy library. Then he frowned and shook his head as he remembered how all of the historical documents and legends had ended. "But they died out, centuries ago... There hasn't been any news of them since..." he shook his head again, his frown deepening as he continued, his eyes focused on the lady seated next to his…rival? "Well, before Merlin's day!"

"They were not 'wiped out,'" The wizard beside her told him, drawing his eyes, along with everyone else's away from their new companion, though the attention hadn't seemed to bother her at all. He shook his head. "They simply decided to separate themselves from our world, so that both worlds, Human and Elven alike, could live in peace."

"They didn't want to live in with humans?" Granger put in, her hazel eyes slightly narrowed.

Potter nodded, "Yes... The Elven Nobles did not believe that the Atan, or Humans, could live in peace with a race so different from itself, one that was its equal in many things, and superior in others." He shrugged, "It was undoubtedly a wise choice, if you look to our histories for proof."

Draco frowned as he realized what the other wizard was indicating, even as Granger vocalized the same apprehension a moment later.

"Humans have never withstood rivals well."

"But then..." the youngest of the Weasley brothers shook his head, visibly baffled."Why are you here now?"

"To aid you," the Elf replied simply, with what might have been a note of amusement in her sweet voice…he couldn't be sure.

"She is here as a representative of her people, who wish to help us with the second purpose for our meeting here." Potter cut in, quite plainly making an effort to forestall any questions.

As a sudden realization caught him, he stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he focused an icy glare on the wizard across from him, though most of his anger was really directed towards himself. He should have realized this sooner… "And what purpose is that, Potter?"

"Voldemort," the Gryffindor replied coolly.

Draco deliberately made the effort to show no visible reaction to the statement, though he was rather shaken by how nonchalantly the other offered it.

And indeed, Potter didn't seem even slightly bothered as he looked around at everyone present, ignoring the numerous gasps from around the table. "You are by no means required to help in this cause, but it would be rather foolish not to."

"It would be foolish to choose survival over certain death?" Draco forced himself to point out, knowing no one else would, but someone should, and why shouldn't he play the bad guy? It's what he'd been to all of them for the longest time, and probably still was. Though he wasn't sure what Potter thought of him anymore. He hadn't been able to read him at all this year…

"No. It would be foolish to hope that not becoming involved would guarantee your survival..." Potter looked around a second time, meeting all the eyes that were staring at him, waiting until he'd held each gaze for several moments before continuing. "A war is brewing. There will be casualties, as there are in all wars. There's no avoiding that. But, depending upon the victor, the outcome is two very different worlds...."

Very true… Everyone in Slytherin House knew that, even those that didn't want to support Voldemort, though they were few.

"Should everyone continue to believe for as long as is absolutely possible that their is no way that Voldemort could have returned, should the vast majority of our world choose that path, Voldemort will win, and our world will fall... He will probably annihilate all Muggles, and Muggle-borns. He might then either kill off, or enslave, everyone else... And he wouldn't stop, until he has it all. And by that time, it would be too late for anyone to stop him..."

"Even if that's true," a blonde Ravenclaw cut in, terror plain in her wide eyes. "How could we ever stop that? We're just kids!"

"And as I said before, Miss Snitch," Potter didn't miss a beat in reply as he shook his head in a manner that looked very Dumbledore-like, "as long as you believe that, you will be a child, and you will be looked down upon..." He held her gaze for several moments before looking around again. "Voldemort has no reason to spare anyone in this room."

Draco kept all of his inner turmoil firmly suppressed even as the Gryffindor then chose to meet his gaze.

"He says he stands for Pureblood... and yet the only reason he hasn't killed the same number of Purebloods as he has of everyone else is because they are a minority. He doesn't really care about his followers. When they fail him, he punishes them; sometimes he even takes their lives. He tortures them on a regular basis, probably to ensure that none ever think of trying to overthrow him. All his words of glory to those of Pureblood and whatnot are just that; words. He still needs his followers. He can't take the world by himself, so he manipulates a semi-powerful minority into following him. He doesn't really care about them, anymore then he believes in what he says. Everything he says, he says for only one reason; it's what his Death Eaters want to hear. It's what keeps them believing that they are right in following him.... Do you really want to become a minion, Malfoy? An expendable soldier, for a lie?" As he finished, he looked around, "Do any of you who might turn to him, really want to be that? To fight for him simply because he says he supports something that you benefit from?"

Now Draco couldn't help but frown, as everything the other wizard had said was very true. He'd noticed some of it himself, in the late, sleepless hours of the night both here at Hogwarts and at home.

"Do you?"

The Malfoy heir shook his head slightly, a quiet denial rolling off his tongue with ease. "No..."

Potter was silent for several moments, probably letting all of them think on what had just been said. Though Weasley didn't seem to be doing much thinking, how could he be when he was still glaring at him? Really, wouldn't that brat ever grow up?


"I think this is a good time for us to depart. It's getting late. You'll receive word of the next meeting through the House Elves again."

"I was wondering about that," The Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Johnson, he thought, spoke up. "Isn't it awful risky? Trusting the House Elves with something we don't want anyone else to know about? I mean, I know that there supposed to be unconditionally loyal and all, but that loyalty is probably to the school and the headmaster, more than the students. Isn't there a chance that they might report us?"

"No," Her fellow Gryffindor shook his head, "Not with Violet here."

Everyone glanced at her again, although many of the boys didn't need to, as they'd been staring at her for a while anyhow.

"All House Elves hold an innately deep respect for the Eldar Race. They're the only People that a House Elf would ever in their right mind consider disobeying or betraying their master for...Which will undoubtedly be very useful to us.... Good night, my friends."

Friends…

Maybe that was why he'd really joined them.

Potter had made him feel like he mattered in a way that no one had ever tried to before.

It seemed that to Potter, even more so in their later encounters, Draco was just Draco.  Not Malfoy, not the Slytherin Prince, or the Future Death Eater.  He was just…Draco, a young, independent wizard with the same rights as everyone else.

It was a nice feeling…

In retrospect it would have been more polite to bow, or at least thank Harry's Foster-Mother before leaving the clearing, after the mirror had darkened once again.  But he was far too lost to thought to consider it, and he hoped she'd later find in her heart to forgive him…

They were a dark and horrible mass to be sure; the bat-like-birds that made their way down through the hellish area the orcs were working in.  The dreadful surroundings didn't seem to bother the fervent Crebain anymore than they bothered the workers.  They were excited, a fact that didn't affect the wizard who commanded them at all.  They always seem to be like that.  A great bunch of darkness and chaos only just useful for the purpose they now served.

The frown that had adorned the White Wizard's face for a time faded slightly at the news they brought, a smirk taking its place.  "So Gandalf, you try to lead them over Caradhras.  And if that fails, where then will you go?" he wondered aloud, ignoring the white-masked, black-robed trio a few feet behind him.  These Death Eaters had just come to him as representatives of their 'lord', who had become another of Sauron's allies.  Ordinarily that wouldn't have bothered him.  But this lord and all his followers were experts in magical warfare, something he was not accustom to, and the magical realm was supposed to be his domain…  "And if that fails," he forced himself to continue, suppressing those worries.  "Where then will you go?"

The Death Eaters followed him, clearly making an effort to keep a good distance between them and the filthy orcs that worked around them as he made his way back up to the surface, before leading the way back into his tower, as he continued to mount the steps.  "You may wait there," he told them, when they reached the inside, gesturing to the sitting room off to the right.

As the Death Eater obediently made their way inside, making themselves comfortable, the 'Head' of the Istari Order continued on his way up to the Orthanc.  "If the mountain defeats you, will you risk a more dangerous road?" he wondered aloud once again, as he reached the top, and turned his eyes to the mountain in question.  He smirked, before raising his arms, his staff grasped firmly in his right hand.  "Illosto Caradhras!  Nuitho i'ruith ilmilya!  Lala i'lie man vanta le falqua!"  He growled as he felt his former friend and ally resist him.  "Fainui'ruitha undamo aikale!  Illosto taura Caradhras!"  A smirk etched its way across his face as he watched a mighty bolt of lightning show the connection between the peak and the storm above that would undoubtedly serve to start yet another avalanche.

After waiting a few moments to see if the Gray Wizard would offer any response, though not seriously expecting any, he made his way back inside, and down to his upper study.  He paused before making his way over to the shelves, and taking a hardbound book from the shelves.  His smirk was more pronounced after a few moments of flipping through the pages.  "Moria…  You fear to go into those mines," he murmured, shaking his head as he remembered a conversation he'd had with the other Istari only a few decades back.  "The Dwarves delved too greedily and too deep…  You know what they awoke in the darkness of Khazad-dûm: Shadow and flame…"

He leaned back in his seat, pleased with himself as he watched through the window as the storm continued to build up over the mountain.  He knew Gandalf would try to pacify the monstrosity, but he would not allow that.  He couldn't allow them the safer passage they sought.  And reason for that was what he must now go to describe to his new, superfluous allies.

Gandalf sighed as he eyed the party behind him, most of who were shivering from the bitter cold, which was only enhanced by the blizzard that whistled and roared all around them and the snow they'd just partially struggled their way out of.  After a moment he shook his head, looking towards Frodo.  "Let the Ring-bearer decide."

His pain deepened somewhat as the Hobbit looked up in part surprise, part horror, from where Aragorn was helping both him and Sam.

"We cannot stay here!  This will be the death of the Hobbits!"  Boromir shouted up to them, drawing attention to his own wards.  Merry and Pippin were both unnaturally pale, with their teeth chattering as violent shivers tore through them.

"Frodo?"  Gandalf asked as quietly as was truly possible, drawing the young one's attention back to him, his eyes sad.

The Ring-bearer bit his lip for a moment, before nodding, his weariness as evident in his voice as it was in his eyes and bearing.  "We will go through the mines."

"So be it…"  Gandalf nodded…

That was how they'd come to be where they were now; making their way down the steep slope they'd been climbing only a few days before.

It should have been easier to go down instead of up, but in this case it was not.  The slope was appallingly steep, and one wrong step could result in a fatal fall, so they had to watch their footing very closely.

Legolas was the only one that didn't seem to have any trouble with it, as he could still balance on top of the snow with incredible ease.  So he was a fair distance ahead of them, watching as they followed him.  That way he could catch any of them if they did happen to slip.

Saruman's storm still raged overhead, a constant menace to their journey downward, which both sped them on with the risk it portrayed, and slowed them down with disheartenment.

Gandalf had tried to send it on its way several times, tried to pacify the Red Horn, but every attempt had been met with even more severe violence, as Saruman continued to oppose them.

Noting that the Hobbit's continuing difficulty seemed to be worsening, Legolas sighed quietly, before calling up to Gandalf in a voice that certainly carried, but should not echo.  "Perhaps we should take a short rest, Mithrandir?"

The Pilgrim nodded immediately, his eyes focusing on the Ring-bearer as the younger being collapsed almost immediately, falling back into a rather awkward sitting position.  The rest of the Fellowship carefully made its way over to join him, sitting in an ovular shape on the precipitous incline.

They rested for several minutes before Frodo said he was ready to move on again, though he very clearly wasn't.  He obviously wanted to get off the mountain.  And they couldn't really blame him.  So they followed his example in rising again.

And then disaster struck once more.  Whether it be by Saruman's manipulations of natures own tendencies, lightning struck the Red Horn's might peak once more, and an avalanche began to roll down towards them, now, when they had no cover…

End Chapter 14.

Translations:

Mestas - Journeys

Nenya - The Ring of Adamant, One of the Three Elven Rings of Power. (Keeper: Galadriel)

Uma - Yes

Barad-dûr - "The greatest fortress-tower on Middle Earth in the Second and Third Age of the Sun was Barad-dûr in the evil land of Mordor. Called the Dark Tower by Men and Lugbúrz by Orcs…"

"Nai Vala…" - "By the Valar…"

Lothlórien - The Golden Wood

Imladris - Rivendell

Eryn Lasgalen - Greenwood the Great

Qualme Rauko - (Painful) Death Demon (Elvish name for "Death Eaters")

Heri'amilnin - "My lady mother" (Harry referring to Galadriel)

"Illosto Caradhras! Nuitho i'ruith ilmilya! Lala i'lie man vanta le falqua! Fainui'ruitha undamo aikale! Illosto taura Caradhras!" - Spell - "Awaken Red Horn! Hold your wrath no more! Deny those who walk on you passage! Release your wrath down upon them! Awaken mighty Red Horn!"

Response to Reviews:

Calen - Thank you.

LOL, yes, poor Harry L .

Sigh, As I said before, I don't have any slash planned, I've never written it before, and I'm not sure I'd be able to, but it might come up. I apologize if that offends you, but that's life. It won't be any of the main characters…well, none of the good ones anyway, as I already have most of their roles completely planned out, but it could still happen.

Rhinemjr - …Umm…Sorry, not answering…

If he doesn't find her/loses hope that he might, yes, he will die.

LOL, thank you.

Serebabe - Thank you, I'm glad.

CoughCough Umm…AU. Technically, Ránëwén's father was Haldir, and Rumil and Orophin's half-brother, so that explains the differing name a bit more. But other then that, the only real explanation is this is AU, and I wanted her to be related to Haldir, so I made him her uncle…father didn't seem realistic.
 

Lunawolf - Thank you

LOL, yes, there is hope.

Glad you like it…

There was a little more interaction here, wasn't there? And their should be more next time.

LOL, yes, I though that'd be amusing…

Musicstarlover - Thank you.

LOL, if you wanted to add the accent you'd have to copy and paste it out of Word or something… I'm not sure the review board would take it though, so shrugs…

Thank you, I'm glad you like it. LOL, yes, flavor.

Liath/Jeni Black - Thanks, I'm glad you like it.
I know! My brother and sister-in-law brought my niece over today. (We were having Mother's Day dinner a day early, because we won't be here tomorrow.) …She's only a little over six weeks old, so she doesn't do much. It was weird though. All she mostly did before was sleep. Now she mostly stares at the people around her. I swear, it's like she's afraid she'll miss something! She really didn't want to take her nap!

Yeah, it would've been nice to ask Tolkien a few things about this wonderful world, wouldn't it? Then again, if he was still around, he might not have let his books be turned into movies… Shudders That'd be terrible!

Oh yes, there's a very big chance. As I'm sure you can now see. And yes, it should be interesting.

Ta!

Laen - LOL, thanx.

Maybe, maybe not.

He's kind of joined already, though he should be more active in the next chapter. Umm…Sorry, I can't explain that, too important. pouts

Kevin-McKay - LOL

Yes, that is a scary thought, isn't it?

Hmm… I'm not sure 'recover' is the best word….We'll see.

Umm…yes, it's very likely. And yes, they are.

Lady Melime Alasse - Glad to hear it.

Yes it should, shouldn't it?

Thank you.

Serpent - -- This is the story.

Orome1(bha79yahoo.com) - Smirks Thank you.

Umm… You know, really, I'm not quite sure. I hadn't even originally planned it out as part of the plot line, it just sort of worked its way in.

LOL, yes, Voldemort, Sauron and Saruman should be an interesting alliance…

Estel Potter - LOL, we'll see.

Smirks Yes, that will be interesting. He hasn't quite realized that yet…

LOL, yes, that would be funny. Unfortunately, we're not quite set up for that.

'Light's Chosen'? 'Kala Kaano'? Hmm, maybe.

LOL, OK, thank you.

DragonTamer9741 - Umm…OK…Yes, I think you're right. I'll take a look when I go back to edit Chapter 1. Thanx.

Tempest - Hmm, really? OK…

Herald-Mage Brianna - Thanks. We'll see.

Soon.

Elf-frodo-believer/Treeneejohnson - LOL, I think something was wrong with FF.net.

Glad to hear it.

LOL, that's kind of the point.

LOL…OK, should be interesting…

Thank you. It's a lot of work, but I think it's worth it.

Bye!

Chaiyya - I'm glad.

…Dumbledore's…

Hmm, I'm not sure… Depends on what series you're talking about. I don't know what Tolkien put for restrictions… There aren't any Elflings around at this time though, so I really haven't thought about it… Sorry… --

Damaru Jigoku - YAY!!! Someone who openly aggress with me! :-D

I know it can be hard sometimes, but I think it's worth it. Subtitled movies can be that much better then dubbed just because they have the right language in them, and everyone still goes through the trouble of reading the subtitles. So, shrugs, I've cut back, but I certainly won't stop.

Phoenix catcher - Thank you.

Found any worth recommending after this one? 

Thanks to:

Nimohtar -

Athenakitty

Blip-dragon

DeFox

Heather-Hezzer-and-Honaluki

AJaKe - Sigh Yes, I suppose it has… Sorry --

Kitiara - LOL…When you flat-out say it that way I suppose it does sound pretty weird…

Lirael Goldenhand

The Lady Reaper of the Shadows

CastusAlbusCor - blinkblink …OK…

The Mystical Elf

Raclswt - LOL, English is better than math…at least in my case.

Anonymous

Nienna - LOL

Zaminieinstein

Szelij

AJ

Gaul1

HAZZAGRIFF

Prd2bAmerican18

Anodreth Illuvine -

Rian

Felix

GODSPEEDNIGHT

AN: Hmm, 44 Reviews, not bad guys. Not as good as usual, but still not bad.

What'd you think? Just so you know, I was intentionally being lazy in the last scene. It didn't need much to get the point across, and I'm tired, so I didn't mind just meeting the minimum and leaving it there. I might change it later, who knows…

Anyway, tell me what you think! Worth more time? (Worth continuing?)

REVIEW!!!

Bye!

Jess S