Disclaimer: I don't own Mogwarts or Hiddle Earth. Anything you recognise is not mine.

Previously in: These Broken Wings

Harry had lain prone for a little longer before struggling on his feet and continuing on his way. He decided it was wise to follow the stream and see where that led him. He also decided that these humans were danger and he should avoid any other living creatures…

And then it decided to rain…

Chapter Three. Rain, Rain Go Away

Harry had always liked rain. Rain meant that he didn't have to work outside weeding Aunt Petunia's garden. Rain meant cool grass between his toes and the soft patter on the roof sending him into pleasant dreams. Rain was the embodiment of replenishment…

Now that it had been raining for the last few hours Harry for the life of him find anything positive about the rain. He was cold. He was hungry. He was wet. He was tired and sick. He was miserable. And he was angry.

The rain didn't seem to mind his anger in the least. It still came down in sheets of wet curtains. Dripping through Harry's only pair of clothing and soaking his skin. The worst fact was his socks were now seeping and every step he took was squishy. The ground he was walking on had become dark black, thick, gooey mud. Every time he endeavoured to put on foot in front of the other the mud would suck and gargle as if it wanted to keep him in its evil clutches.

Swiping away the wet strands of hair from his face Harry hung his head and fell into the mud onto his knees. "I can't go on," he gasped to no one in particular. "But there is no way I'm sleeping in the mud."

Harry glanced disdainfully down into the thick gooey mess. It would probably drown him lodging itself into his lungs, a more effective murder weapon than the Death Eaters. He struggled to his feet and stumbled a little way in the opposite direction to the river he had been using for directions.

Harry didn't need to go far when he found a path. "Wonderful I can sleep here," he mumbled collapsing so that his cheeks rested on the pebbles.

'Wait a minutes. Paths mean people. People means civilisation. Civilisation might mean danger…' Harry's slow mind was thinking. Harry snorted making ripples in the puddle that was forming under his nose. 'I'll close my eyes for a moment. Just a moment.'

But after walking alone in the depression suffocating rain the thought of civilisation was tempting. 'What are they going to do to me? Steal my glasses? People means food, warm bed and maybe even a shower… well I'm in a shower…'

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and sighed wistfully. He was getting comfortable on the path. It wasn't so bad… Within a matter of moments he had drifted off into feverish dreams.

"What's this?"

Harry's eyes fluttered as a soft musical voice half fluttered through his consciousness. But it need not wake him.

A tall blonde creature with sharp pointed ears such as Harry had acquired kneeled beside Harry. Gentle hands turned him over and grey eyes the verged on silver took in Harry's blue lips and pale skin. Long fingers brushed back Harry's long raven locks and the creature seemed somewhat surprised.

"Well, mellon nin. Let's get you somewhere warm."

The blonde seemed stunned at the thin form on Harry as he lifted him onto a large white horse whom had been waiting impatiently. He touched the velvety muzzle of his mount as the horse snorted and shook his regal mane. Then he vaulted into the saddle. "Naro lim," he whispered.

The horse whickered and immediately hastened to obey. The rider and horse (plus Harry) raced through the rain which had become nothing more than a hazy drizzle.

Barely no time seemed to have passed when they had reached a small slope in which a beautiful retreat became visible.

"Naro lim," the blonde whispered repeating the instruction.

Horse and rider became on entity moving quickly through the terrain at a break neck speed until they reached the house which seemed to be glowing with an inner warmth.

The lord of the house was waiting for him dry comfortable standing regally in his long crimson robes on the threshold.

The blonde dismounted and pulled the still unconscious form of Harry into his arms. The lord watched seemingly impassively as the blonde strode up the stairs cradling Harry like a young child.

"Forgive, me Hir-nin, he seems unwell," the blonde said glancing down at his charge.

The lord merely dipped his head in reply. "We knew of the possibility, the charms have had time adhere onto him and now they have been forcibly removed. Come…"

Harry moaned in the back of this throat and listlessly turned over and buried himself under piles of feathered cushions. He dreamily wondered what he was doing in his four poster bed at Hogwarts but a moment later his thoughts drifted away into the foggy mist that seemed to beckon him back into unconsciousness.

"Hiding away will not help you tether pen," a voice said, the own of said voice plucked the top cushion off the top of Harry's head. Harry protested mumbling feebly groping for another cushion to smother himself back asleep.

"The morn is young yet; your fever has abated and methinks it is time for you to get back on your feet."

Harry rolled over and opened one eye experimentally to glare at the speaker; the voice was not one he recognised.

"Eeek!" Harry started at the person, who evidently wasn't quite human, jumped and fell out of bed. "What are you?" Harry demanded from the other side of the bed fighting for freedom from the blankets. He felt this question wasn't polite but under the strenuous circumstances he thought he could be excused.

"The same as you," was the clipped reply.

"You're not human," Harry stated firmly.

"Neither are you."

Harry snorted and ran his hand along the points of his ears, which he had still not become used to. "I am human…" Harry muttered fiercely. "This doesn't make sense… I was human."

Harry felt his hysteria growing inside of him. This had to be a Gred and Feorge joke he didn't think he could walk around the wizarding world with weird ears. It would make the front page of the Daily Prophet and that would mean more publicity.

"No," Harry said firmly to himself. "I am human. I was born human and I'll stay human."

"You weren't born human," the pointed eared being said. (Harry thought it ideally wrong and belittling to call it creature or beast).

"Of course I was born human!" Harry cried in exasperation throwing his hands up.

"How do you explain the ears?"

"Hallucinations?" Harry hazarded hopefully.

"Lenwë never told you…" The being looked incredulous.

Harry was growing concerned. "Whose Lenwë? What's she got to do with me?"

"He, Elerossë. I can't believe…"

"Who's Lenwë?"

"Lenwë known as James in your world."

Harry blinked slowly the information was slowly connecting together. But all he ended up with was a jig saw that didn't make any sense…

"James?"

"James was your father wasn't he?"

"James Potter, yes…"

The tall being sighed and sat down on Harry's borrowed bed and patted the coverlets for Harry to join him. "It seems we have much to discus tether pen. Tell me of your father."

Harry glanced dubiously at the space beside the being and slowly sat at a discreet distance. "James – my father. Is. Dead."

The being raised an elegant hand to his mouth. Shock was written over his passive brow. Indeed he looked stricken. "How? When did this happen?"

So Harry told him everything…