Catalyst

Summary: In which Harry, Hermione, and Ron get sucked into Middle Earth by way of a defunct portkey on their way to the Quidditch World Cup. Set in the beginning of GoF/The Hobbit.

Author's note: I must profess; I do not own The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter.

So the last chapter was a bit dark and morbid on the feel-o-meter…by a lot. A lot darker than I usually write (casually ignores last few chapters of Defy the Stars). So this chapter, with any luck, will be a little lighter than the last. Little plot building, little friendship, and little magic. No ponies though, sorry.

Chapter Two

Harry shot up, breathing as though he had been drowning, his back lit up with pain, which he ignored in favor of pulling on the loose crème colored tunic to look at his chest, hands fumbling with the laces, ignoring the calm voice of the healer next to his bed as he abandoned the laces in favor of yanking at the fabric. –A gleaming sword protruded from his chest, shining red with his blood- Gentle hands grabbed his wrists and a second pair firmly pushed him back to lie down as he gasped for air, tears rolling down his face, unbidden and unwelcome.

His eyes darted around, the lingering smell of smoke –Tobacco, only tobacco- bringing his dream to the forefront of his mind again. And he let out a wail as a curtain of brown hair washed over his chest, murmured soft foreign words in a soothing tone only increased his panic. –"I'm here Baby. I'll always be here."- Something in the room shattered.

"Be still, Henig, the danger has passed." The distinctly masculine voice startled Harry out of his panic, and he forced his eyes to focus on the face –Too close- of the man who held him.

He had high prominent cheekbones and flawless skin, arched brows and a kind look to his eyes, his ears didn't round at the tip, but instead elegant points that stuck out from beneath his long straight hair. "Who are you?" the question fell from his mouth as quickly as it appeared in his mind. The man released his wrists and sat back, blurring out as he drew away. "Where am I?" he looked about him uncertainly "Where are my friends?"

The man chuckled deeply, "Peace, youngling. I am Lord Elrond, and you and your friends are safe here in Imladris." Harry frowned, not recognizing the name. "You have been unconscious for a few days, I'm sure your friends would like to know that you've woken." Lord Elrond turned to his quiet companion and nodded, the other elf bowed, sending Harry a sidelong glance before he exited quietly. The lord stood gracefully his long flowing tunic swishing about his feet. "Uldel will fetch them. Do you require anything else?" Harry shook his head, eyes now fixed on his lap, teeth worrying his bottom lip, and thin blanket twisting beneath his hands.

The Lord nodded, and stepped from the room, the doors remaining open. Harry cast a glance to the bedside table where he thought he could make out his glasses next to a basin of water. He fumbled for them before shakily sliding them up his nose. White stone walls and graceful arches came into focus, and he blinked guiltily at a shattered vase, flowers spilling over the floor and water dripping from the edge of the dais it had sat upon. He looked back to the bedside table, frowning when he found his wand missing.

"Harry!" Hermione crowed, rushing into the room and hugging him as fiercely as she dared. Ron hot on her heals with a clap on his shoulder and heartfelt a "Good to have you with us mate." Harry pushed his missing wand from his mind as he smiled winningly at his friends.

"What are you wearing?!" He joked, plucking at Ron's sleeve, taking in the crème colored shirt and simple yet snug black trousers and leather boots his red headed friend wore.

Ron wrinkled his nose, "Laugh all you want, Harry. Just wait until you're laced into a pair of these britches." Hermione rolled her eyes, a fond smile playing at her lips. "Wouldn't believe how long it takes to take a-"

"Ronald Billius Weasley!" Hermione cut him off with a hard smack to the upper arm, tone affronted.

"What!" Ron inquired cowering away from her, a small smile tweaking at the corner of his lips.

Backing away from him and rolling her eyes heavenward, Hermione muttered something along the lines of "Merlin save me." before she sat down at the foot of Harry's bed, pushing a wayward curl behind her ear and fiddling with the green sleeve of her dress. "We were so worried Harry."

"You were out for two days mate." Ron interjected leaning against the wall by Harry's head.

"Where are we? What happened?" Harry asked, both of his friends exchanged a look.

"You were very badly injured Harry." Hermione started, a somber expression on her face, Ron started to pale at the memory. "There was a large gash across your back; Oin said it was a miracle your spinal column wasn't snapped in two."

Harry scrunched his brow, "The Dwarf that patched you up." Ron interjected quickly.

"Yes well, after that the elves insisted that everyone come back to Rivendell." Hermione explained.

"But Lord Elrond said we were in Imladris-" Harry started, heavily butchering the foreign word in process, Hermione shook her head.

She scooted closer to him on the bed, eyes bright. "That's the word for Rivendell in Sindarin-"

Ron rolled his eyes, "The elves' language."

Hermione rolled her eyes good naturedly, "I was getting to that. Anyway, they escorted all of us-"

Ron leaned forward a scowl twisting his features, "That trip was bloody terrible by the way. Dwarves and elves get on like kneazles and crups, you didn't miss anything mate."

Hermione frowned at Ron, and continued on in a sharper tone, "to Rivendell." Another well aimed slap to the shoulder sent Ron reeling away from the bed again. "Ron! Harry didn't miss out on the journey on purpose; he was injured and could very well have died!" Ron had the grace to look slightly abashed.

"It was a joke." Ron defended lamely.

Harry nodded in agreement, "He didn't mean anything by it Hermione." He defended softly, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Hermione let out a slow breath, "I'm sorry Ron, I just- We could have lost him." She admitted, biting her lower lip.

"But we didn't." Ron pointed out unnecessarily.

Silence prevailed in the room as the trio mulled over their situation. Harry twisted the blanket around his index finger, brow furrowed. "Where are we exactly?" Ron and Hermione shared another look and Harry felt frustration simmer in his chest.

"Well, we're not sure exactly-" Hermione started uncertainty creeping into her voice. "From what I've gathered, we're not on earth anymore. They call it Arda, or more commonly referred to as Middle-Earth. For a people with an extensive library the maps are incredibly archaic and largely unfinished. For instance the West of the continent is detailed but anything East of Rhun is woefully under embellished."

"Two days and already she's already trying to memorize half the library." Ron muttered, in a fond sort of exasperation.

"Not on Earth?!" Harry repeated incredulously. "Well, how the hell are we supposed to get back?!"

Ron scratched his cheek with a tattered fingernail, looking distinctly uncomfortable with Harry's question "The dwarves had a wizard with them, said he was one of five in the world. This Gandalf bloke said one of his mates might be able to help us get back. Oh!" Ron jumped away from the wall suddenly. "Speaking of wizards, I have your wand, mate. Didn't want anybody filching it while you were out."

He fished the familiar length of wood from his sleeve and dropped it into Harry's waiting fingers. Warmth spread through him, the experience not unlike his first time picking up the wand in Olivander's and he sighed. The tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying seeping from his body.

"By the way," Ron nodded past Hermione towards the broken vase, "What happened there?"

Harry ducked his head sheepishly, as Hermione clucked and stood to go inspect the mess. "Oh Harry tell me this wasn't you."

Hermione waved her wand, with a quiet "repairo" and the shards and flowers leapt from the ground and back into place as if they had never been broken. "I had another dream." Harry confessed quietly, unconsciously rubbing at his chest. Hermione made a small noise of understanding, face softening.

Ron frowned, "Was it another one about- you know-" He floundered, eyes getting shifty at the very thought of Voldemort. Harry shook his head and the tension eased slightly in Ron's shoulders, but his expression remained serious.

"What was it about then?" Hermione coaxed, sitting back down on the bed.

Harry thought back on it, frowning as he sorted through the vivid images and smells. "I'm not sure." He finally conceded, "It was kind of like the dreams where I can see Voldemort." Ron hissed and flinched at the name. "I could smell and feel everything like I was actually there. There was smoke all over, and I was climbing up a steep hill, or maybe a mountain." He paused, unsure of how to continue. "And then I turned around-"

Two days after he had woken up Harry was given leave to wander the elven city under the condition that he not overexert himself. A condition which Hermione enforced by barricading them in the library to pour over dusty tomes in search of anything that would help them find a way home.

Harry squinted at the rounded elegant letters. He looked over at Ron who was nodding off over the same page he had started on an hour prior and grinned impishly. He slammed his tome shut, turning too large bottle green eyes to Hermione in an attempt to look innocent.

Ron jumped at the sudden noise, looking around in confusion before he narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Regular comedian, you are."

Hermione hid a smile behind her book. "I'm pretty sure this one's in another language." He announced a bit louder than necessary, while trying to maintain a straight face. Hermione pushed another, larger, tome to Harry who groaned. "Can't we take a break? Maybe ask that Gandalf chap about the other wizards?"

Ron dropped his forehead against the table top with a dull thunk, "Yes please!"

Hermione closed the book, using her index finger to mark her page, "I suppose we could take a break. But I don't want to be running all over Rivendell looking for him; Harry still needs to take it easy."

"I know where he is."

The trio jumped, turning to stare at the short childish looking being that had spoken. "Not to pry, but I overheard your conversation as I was passing by." He looked sheepish; thumbs hooked through his suspenders as he rocked onto the balls of his too large hairy feet. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

"Hermione Granger, at yours." Hermione countered nimbly standing from her seat. "This is Harry Potter," she waved a hand at him and he smiled and waved with two fingers "and Ron Weasley." Ron grinned from his chair and raked a hand through his hair.

"It's lovely to meet you all." Bilbo smiled nervously at them, rocking on his feet once more.

"Likewise." Harry replied, smiling at the man.

Dressed in a grey robe, with a long white beard that went down to his waist, Gandalf the Grey reminded Harry of a more serious Dumbledore. The older wizard stood to greet them, pulling his pipe from his mouth. "Ah, I had been meaning to track the three of you down." He turned his powerful blue gaze on Bilbo, "Thank you Mr. Baggins for escorting them safely to me."

The hobbit nodded his curly head, "Not a problem, not a problem. I'll eh-" he took a tentative step back, "just be on my way. Good afternoon."

Hermione waved at the Hobbit as he made to leave and Harry murmured a "thanks" to the small being before he disappeared around the corner.

"Now then." Gandalf drew their attention quickly, eyes assessing each of them in turn as he took a puff of his pipe. "Let's have a seat, shall we?"

The three teens nodded, as the old wizard motioned to some nearby chairs. Once seated, Gandalf leaned back in his chair, "I am Gandalf the Grey. Though I suspect you already knew that."

Hermione cleared her throat, "Hello Mr. Gandalf." The wizard let out a coughing chuckle.

"Just Gandalf is fine, young lady."

"Gandalf," Hermione corrected with a smile. "My name is Hermione Granger, and this is Ron Weasley and Harry Potter." The boys chimed in solemn hellos from either side of her. "As you probably already know, we're not from this world." The wizard's Bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. "There was a malfunction with our portkey, a form of magical transport where we're from, and we seemed to have been thrown into your world as a result."

Gandalf took another puff of his pipe blowing the smoke out of his nose, "That is quite the dilemma." He stroked his beard with his free hand, slumping further in his seat in thought.

"We were hoping you'd know how to send us back?" Ron queried uncertainty and hope flickering across his face.

Gandalf tapped the remaining ash over the white stone railing, a crease forming between his brows, "I am afraid that I am not the wizard to speak with about such matters." He admitted, frowning as the three children's hopeful countenances dropped.

"What about the other Wizards?" Harry piped up, desperation playing at his features, "Would any of them know how to send us back?"

Gandalf looked thoughtful for a moment, tucking his pipe back into the folds of his robes, "Perhaps one of the blue wizards to the east. However, this old man's memory is not what it once was. You'll forgive me, but I have quite forgotten their names."

Harry felt the tension that had built up in his shoulders at the wizened wizards confession melt away as he dangled another possibility before them. "How do we find them?" Hermione inquired, leaning forward on in her seat eagerly.

Gandalf considered them for a moment, "I am convening with the White Council in a few days' time, I will be able to answer your questions then. But now, I believe it is time for dinner."

Harry craned his neck to stare up at the arches as firelight danced across the stone in flickering patterns, and tried to ignore the flicker of homesickness he felt when he remembered a similar ceiling that instead portrayed the night sky. He shook himself as Hermione took his elbow and steered him towards the middle of the longwide table, the length of the hall, laden with food.

"Towards the end of the table are the company of Dwarves I've been telling you about." Hermione murmured into his ear, and Harry cast a cursory glance in their direction watching as they roared with laughter, the Elves seated a few seats away had a pinched look to their faces that Harry usually attributed to Malfoy. Harry and Ron sandwiched Hermione between them, listening to the dull roar of the Dwarves ebb over the murmur of the surrounding elves before falling again.

They helped themselves to the impressive spread before them, Hermione tutting at their choices. "Really just meat? How did you get so tall without eating your vegetables, Ronald?" Ron's retort of 'magic' around a mouthful of chicken earned him a disdainful sniff from Hermione and a small chuckle from Harry.

"D'you think," Ron inquired, mouth full of mutton "They know what treacle tart is?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ronald." Hermione chastised automatically as she primly cut into her chicken.

Harry opened his mouth to reply when a loud "You there!" interrupted him. Harry straightened jumpily from where he was slouched over his dinner plate, head twisting back and forth as Hermione and Ron grinned at him around their goblets. A short, stout white bearded Dwarf stomped up to them, peering at Harry in a scrutinizing fashion as he raised a bronze horn to his ear. "How's the back, lad?"

"I-erm-" Harry looked from him to his friends wide eyed and feeling off kilter, "Good?"

A frown so deep it seemed to lengthen the Dwarf's already impressive beard a half an inch crossed the man's face, heavy brow furrowing as he did so. "You asking me or telling me?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed a few time before he managed to stutter out "Telling-It's much better."

The man nodded, "Good, Good. I am Oin, son of Groin, I was the one who stitched you back together."

Harry blinked in surprise, "Erm, Thank you, I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

Oin peered at him with critical eyes, "You heal quickly, though I suspect that may be the Elves handiwork." He muttered mostly to himself. "No discomfort when walking, no sudden pains?" Harry shook his head in the negative. "Good, they didn't completely botch it then." He turned as If to leave then turned back, a stern look to his face, "And you better take care of yourself, you hear? Nothing strenuous for at least a week." He shoved a crooked finger inches from Harry's nose and the young wizard nearly went cross eyed.

"Yes sir." He agreed hastily. The elderly dwarf harrumphed before turning to stomp back over to his companions, and Harry sagged in relief.

"He's scarier than Madame Pomfrey!" Harry let out in a gust of breath as he turned back to his dinner, scowling at Ron over Hermione's shoulder as the red head guffawed, inadvertently spraying the table with half chewed mutton and making a few surrounding elves discreetly move a few seats farther away.

"Ah!" Gandalf gestured for them to enter. "Here they are," Harry took a hesitant first step regarding the white council warily. Lord Elrond stood tall next to Gandalf, to his right another elf, blonde and decidedly female and finally next to Gandalf stood a tall man robed in white, his white beard streaked with black and eyes coldly calculating. "Don't be shy, Lad. Come in." Ron nudged him forward and Harry aimed a scowl over his shoulder as his back let out a dull twinge of protest.

"I believe you've all met Lord Elrond. This is Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien and Saruman the White, chief of the wizard's council." Gandalf indicated each member in turn.

"Young Harry," Lord Elrond welcomed, no smile graced his face, but his gaze was warm. "It is good to see you up and about."

Harry smiled awkwardly at the elven Lord, ducking his head. "Thanks."

"A pleasure." Saruman intoned, a single dark grey brow raised in askance as he turned his dark assessing gaze towards Gandalf. "I was not aware the White Council was in the practice of entertaining children."

Lady Galadriel leveled an amused look at the white wizard "Be at peace, Curunir. They are no mere children."

Gandalf smiled back at Galadriel a twinkle of amusement in his eye. "Right you are My Lady. These three children have been misplaced from their own world."

Saruman's eyebrows met his hairline, dark eyes now considering the three that had crept a little further into the room. "Is that so?"

Hermione spoke up from next to Harry, "It is sir." Harry nodded to affirm her words.

"We were hoping you may know of a way to get us home?" Harry spoke up impulsively.

Saruman chuckled, exchanging a glance with Gandalf, "You have courage, young Master Potter." He paused to consider them a moment, "I am grieved to admit that none within this council has the knowledge you seek. However, Alatar and Pallando, possess such knowledge." He turned to his fellow council members. "They are currently stirring rebellion against Sauron to the East, and it is hardly a journey these children can take alone."

Harry's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth, intent on protesting on an escort when he was interrupted by Hermione's rather sharp elbow digging into his ribs. He glared at her as she stared attentively forward.

Elrond turned a thoughtful gaze upon the trio, "Indeed, Orc sightings have become more numerous as of late." Elrond turned to Galadriel taking part in a hushed conversation in what harry could only assume was Sindarin.

"Do you think they remember we're here?" Ron whispered, draping his arms around both of his friends and laying his chin on Harry's shoulder.

"Perhaps," Gandalf spoke up, "a Ranger escort could be acquired." He turned to regard them once more, a twinkle in his eye reminiscent of Fred and George when they'd gotten an idea in their heads.

Saruman frowned, as Gandalf leaned forward, gripping his staff with two hands. "The Rangers will be busy with the increased Orc activity as well, they will not willingly surrender a handful of men to escort children across Middle-Earth."

Gandalf smiled a half smile, the twinkle still present in his eye. "We will only need one."

Lord Elrond leveled an unimpressed look at Gandalf, seemingly seeing through whatever ploy the old wizard was cooking up, but said nothing. Lady Galadriel merely smiled, "Then it is settled, we send a raven at once."

Author's Note: And there you have it! Please Review; it makes me a happy duck to know that my writing is appreciated. Otherwise I think you've exited halfway through the chapter out of hatred and disgust. Then I wallow, and mope, and brood. Not at all conductive to story writing I assure you.

-Harry's thoughts/memories- (- used mostly for his PTSD moments, poor duck)

A map for reference, for those of you so inclined:

Sindarin words and phrases I may or may not have explained:

Henig: My child

Imladris: Rivendell

Arda: Middle-Earth

Curunir: Saruman's name in Sindarin