Why had he been reborn as a dwarf? Although it was far too early in the morning to ponder about such matters, Harry couldn't help but wonder. In which unearthly law was it stated that he should be transported to another universe into the body of a dwarf? Flipping his eggs into the air he contemplated if all people were reborn when they died, or if it was only the case for wizards? He had never heard of another case like his before and he wasn't even reborn a new born but awoke in a grown body, likely dumped by Morgana, in the middle of nowhere.
Eggs, toast, and sausages done, he slowly ate his breakfast, taking care not to drop some of the greasy food on his newly bought fine clothes.
It was definitely not the norm for people to wake in another body, in another time, or, in his scenario, most likely another universe, in the manner that he had. He had, after all, talked to dead people before and they hadn't mentioned anything like this to him. Nodding thoughtfully while chewing his eggs, he came to the conclusion that he had most likely been cursed in his life as Harry Potter.
It should not have come as a surprise to him that he wouldn't even have a normal death. After all, he had touched countless dark magical objects, been hit with colourful curses, and eaten clearly poison or potion induced food from enemies or fans alike. It would be difficult to tell the exact reason for his current situation as he had lived an eventful life.
Eating his last bit of sausage, he cleaned the used utensils and kitchen's table tops before going for the door.
Yesterday when he had returned home, he had left his boots at the door and walked around his new home barefoot. Before he went out, he made sure to secure the leather binds around his black clayed trouser legs to keep the boots on his feet. Stepping out the front door, he felt something soft under his left foot as he turned around to close the door behind him. What he found when he looked to the ground was a dirty red sock. Confused as to how it ended up before his door, he bent down and picked the red clothe up by his thumb and index finger. Having brought it up in the air to study further, he brought his attention back to the hall to look for the red sock's owner. The moment his attention was averted from the sock, he discovered, to his own horror, that he had the attention of nine surrounding dwarves.
This couldn't be happening. He had done something wrong but he didn't know what. He was frozen to the spot with the sock still held between his right thumb and index finger. None of the other dwarves moved or said a word to him. What should he do? Drop it and pretend that it hadn't happened or confront the other dwarves about the problem?
From the look he got from the nine dwarves, he could tell that they weren't mad but more likely shocked by his course of action. One of the nine particular stood out from the crowd. A fierce red haired and bearded male dwarf, slightly older than himself, he would guess, was trying to hide his hot red face behind the broom he was holding. When the red-head felt he had Harry's attention, he almost dropped the broom before he rapidly started sweeping the already shining, clean black floor.
Having most likely found the red sock's owner, Harry steered towards the red-headed dwarf, who now stood open mouthed like the great Merlin himself had, fallen from the skies and declared him king of the universe.
"I believe this is yours." Harry held out the sock to the dwarf. "I'm sorry that I stepped on it," he said as an afterthought, for he had clearly done something wrong by tradition to gain this much attention. The dwarf didn't say anything in return, he was still clearly in shock, but he did hold out his hand to take the sock back. When the red-haired male still failed to utter one word, Harry added a "goodbye" and left down the corridor.
He reached the Royal Kitchens without incidents, having made extra sure he didn't step on abandoned socks on the hallway floors. The smell that wafted through the open kitchen door and followed all the way up and down the outside corridor was heavenly.
Taking a step inside, Harry immediately spotted the big dwarf in the giant messy kitchen. Don't get him wrong; it wasn't like a dusty, cobweb-filled, potion dungeon, it was just chaotic. Bowls with dough, fillings, and liquids stood on every table surface, parts of different animals, cooked and uncooked, lay on plates and boards around as well, along with different kitchen utensils. If it weren't for the heavenly smell in the air and the sight of finished dishes, Harry would have doubted that anyone was capable of making food in this kitchen.
Bewildered by the state of the room, he watched on as Bombur walked around, taking his time, tasting the contents of each bowl. When one of the kitchen lad's failed to deliver a bowl to Bombur's hold, Bombur looked up for whatever held the lad attention and discovered Harry's presence.
"Harry, my friend, I'm so glad that you came," the big dwarf announced. All other things forgotten Bombur walked towards him, wearing a big smile. "Everyone," Bombur called loudly, "this is Harry, the dwarf I told you all about." Now that they stood side by side, Bombur continued to introduce him to the staff. "Harry has agreed to work with us for some time and I want you all to help make him feel welcome."
He was quickly put to work, left at one of the overloaded tables with the job of making pies. He was happy that he had had the foresight to buy a barrette of iron for his hair yesterday with Karga, otherwise his hair would have been all over the place. Already, loose strands were falling around his face from the knot on top of his head.
At first, the other workers were hesitant to interact with him, why he didn't know. But after asking for assistance finding different ingredients and tools they loosened up to him. Soon, they wouldn't stop asking questions about him, not that he minded, and he found himself making fast friends with all of them.
Working in the kitchen was like working in a complete madhouse; tools and food flew through the air by calls between the different tables. Soon he was joking with the rest of them and his laugher brought joy to the whole kitchen.
::::::::::
He had been living in Erebor for a total of six days. The mountain's many halls emitted warmth similar to the homely halls in Hogwarts but in Erebor he had no need to worry about magical death-traps, disagreeable slytherins, nor snappy teachers. He would miss his family terribly much, but he knew that they wouldn't want him to mourn them and forget to live his own life.
Through this period, he had invited Bifur's family and Sanix to dine at his home and it had been a joyful evening. He had had some trouble getting his house in order before the family arrived. To his confusion, he would open his front door each morning and find different coloured socks lying all around his door. It seemed that there were more lying around for each day he walked in and out of his house. It had taken him half an hour to remove all the socks that day, but he didn't want Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Karga, and Sanix to see the mountain of dirty, smelling socks.
He had also met up with Ralec two other times to spend time talking and walking around the mountain. When Ralec came to his house he didn't comment on the many smelling socks lying around and, in turn, Harry didn't say anything either. The fact that Ralec didn't comment on the socks calmed Harry down a great deal, for surely then it couldn't be anything serious. He had, after all, also seen other doors where a couple of socks lay around, much like with his own, and he concluded that it must be some kind of dwarven prank.
He had yet to receive any words from the Hall of Healing so he continued his work in the jolly kitchen. His dishes had obtained much praise from the cooks and others who had tasted his cooking.
In addition to his problem with the socks, he also spent much time brooding over his hair or lack of beard. To dwarves, he discovered, hair meant a big great deal and a lot of effort went into styling one's beard and hair. Having had short hair most of his life he didn't, for the life of him, know how to handle long hair. The last couple of days he had seen hair braided and twisted in ways he hadn't known was possible; some even went so far to braid their eyebrows which left him standing some time each day in front of the mirror wondering what to do with the hair he had. Harry did not have a talent for weaving hair; he hadn't even been able to do a normal braid. Therefore, the long black mane often went into a knot on top of his head. Or it was gathered like today, by the front locks of hair to the back of his head with his barrette.
On this morning he walked his usual trip to the kitchen, a twenty-five minute walk from his front door. Yes, it was a terribly long walk and, so far, the only disadvantage of living in this huge mountain. On his way to work, he greeted many of the mountains inhabits; the redhead with the red sock, who still hadn't said a word to him, who apparently lived across from him. Then there was the baker's boy, Bor, who walked around in the mornings with different deliveries, the silent dwarf, Nori, who styled his hair and beard like a six pointed star. Harry still didn't know what he did for a living but they crossed paths time and time again till Harry found the courage to talk to him. Then there were the many different dwarves stationed as guards along the halls, with whom he share few words with every day.
Reaching the entrance to the kitchen, he gave the wall a light knock. "Good morning, everyone."
"Good morning, Harry," Bombur greeted along with many others. "You have arrived at a perfect time, Harry. Would you please help carrying the dishes to the royal wing? We are behind schedule getting everything there."
"Of course I'll help." Taking a tray in each hand he went back out the door. Luckily the royal wing lay on the same floor and not so far away from the kitchen.
"Back so soon, Harry?" One of the guards he had passed moments before asked him in a teasing tone.
"I'm afraid we're behind schedule delivering the royal's breakfast," he replied over his shoulder while he continued walking quickly down the hall.
"You better hurry then, I have heard that the king is in a right foul mood without breakfast and I wouldn't want him to direct his anger at you, Harry."
Harry didn't reply back, having already turned down another corridor. Several corners later, he reached the beautiful entrance to the royal wing; two giant gold doors stood open, leading into the royal's quarters. Guards in armour stood by the golden gate following Harry's figure with their eyes as he passed them.
This section of the mountain was truly fit for royalty. The corridors got bigger even though there were far less people passing through this area. The floor was covered by a dark blue rug, patterned with golden thread and through the dark marble like stonewalls ran veins of gold naturally like a tiger's stripes.
Turning left at another corner, he came to an abrupt stop when he collided with another body. Luckily, he didn't drop any of the trays but the other servant didn't have such luck. The dwarf named Datrour, another worker from the kitchens, had been carrying a stunning silver can which had, up until this point, been filled with water.
"I'm so sorry, Harry, I should have been more careful." Datrour was quick to set the empty can and hand him a piece of cloth to dry himself with, taking a tray from Harry in the process.
"It's not your fault alone. I was in a hurry and didn't watch where I was going." Harry used the cloth to dry his face, not bothering with his clothes, which were already complete soaked.
"It's a good thing you bumped into me and not the king, right?" Harry said with a dry smile as he went to deliver the cloth back to Datrour.
"Indeed," Datrour replied with a slight reddening in his cheeks. Harry suddenly became very aware of his state of dress. His white shirt, now completely wet, hung to his body, and by Datrour's reaction, he would guess that it was easily seen through.
In a hurry to have Datrour's attention elsewhere Harry handed him the other tray. "Would you deliver these for me? The royal family is soon to arrive for breakfast and these have to be on the table before then."
"Of course I'll take them for you, Harry. You can go home and change I will tell Bombur why you are delayed." Datrour turned to walk away.
"Thank you, Datrour."
"Anything for you, Harry," Datrour called back to him.
He watched Datrour until he was out of sight. He didn't make a move towards his house. How could he? He knew that he gathered much attention in Erebor but he didn't feel the need to make himself even more noticeable by walking half naked back to his house. If only he had had his magic he could have spelled his clothes dry but he had to come up with something else.
Hearing voices coming closer, he spurred into action and went to the nearest door and crept inside. Sanix had once told him that the royal wing was supposed to contain hundreds of unused rooms and he really hoped he hadn't intruded on someone's privacy by entering.
The voices kept coming closer. He couldn't get himself to move away from the door, his glance was locked on the handle, praying that whoever was outside didn't take a step inside. The voices moved past the door and his eyes closed in relief. He knew that he ought to step back outside the corridor but his curiosity got the better of him. Harry was already inside, so what harm would a small peak do? Turning his back to the door, he found himself standing in a grand bedroom of the size of his whole apartment. The room was mostly dark, for very little light escaped past the door from the hallway. Even with the little light it was easy to see that the room was unused; as all the furniture was draped over with white linens. Uncovered were only the fireplace and a silver stand with firewood and a door to the right.
At the sight, his mood brightened. He knew what he had planned was wrong but he couldn't help but walk closer with the intention to light a fire. If all went according to plan he would have a fire going where he could dry off his clothes, maybe he could even find a book in one of the bookcases under the linens to entertain him while he waited. Then after his clothes had dried he could turn the fire off and leave like nothing had happened.
He looked through the silver stand for the smallest branches he could find and gathered them in the fireplace. It took him some time to get the fire going but he had found matches enough for it to be of no consequence. Adding some bigger branches to make the fire bigger, he went over to the other door which hopefully led to a bathroom. Inside, he did indeed find a bathroom for which he searched for some towels he could wrap around himself so he wouldn't have to sit naked for a longer period.
Opening and closing different drawers he found some clean white towels. He also found lots of different jewellery; necklaces, earrings, beads, rings, and even a very beautiful white comb he didn't dare look at too long.
He made his way back to the fire with a big white towel tucked under one arm. The fire was still going strong and the flames ate the dry wood hungrily, lightening up the whole room. He laid the towel by the fire and started stripping himself from his wet clothes.
Unlacing the leather straps around his shins, he took the boots off first and sat them by the fire, proceeding to strip himself from his pants. He unfastened the buckle and rolled the wet fabric down on his legs. Bending down to lay the pants as close as possible to the fire, he dropped them from his hands in fright when the door behind him suddenly burst open.
Heavy quick steps bore the stranger further into the room. "What is the meaning of this?" a cold deep voice sounded sending shivers up and down Harry's spine. "Which lord would dare send you here in hope of winning the favour of the king?"
Harry spun around when he realised that he was in the presence of the king. Big, strong, and tall, almost like the mountain itself, stood the great king of Erebor. Taller than any dwarf Harry had seen before the mountain king had dark, slightly curly, black hair and beard which fell modestly un-braided around his head, ending a little past the grey fur-trimmed neck along the jacket. The king had a handsome face; a clear jawline, the strong chin, his big, slim, pointed nose, and the dark thick eyebrows. What captured his attention the most where the cold, clear blue eyes which held him in place and he struggle to explain himself, "I.. I did not.. I do not know.."
"You need not play innocent. I know your game, temptress." By now the king stood directly before him and Harry could feel the blue eyes burning into his skin even though he looked at the ground.
"I've grown tired of these attempts and I will not stand for it anymore." A big strong hand fell to his head and grasped a big chunk of his raven black hair. "I do wonder where your master found you," the king said, talking more to himself then to Harry, as he proceeded to drag him out the door by his hair. "He must have paid a great deal for one as you. Then again, you are willing to show off your body so shamelessly that you'll have to be experienced and used to this business."
Harry could do nothing in the king's strong grip; he could either follow awkwardly along on bent legs or be dragged along the floor like a doll. Harry followed mutely after the king. He had one hand placed under the king's to relieve the pressure on his scalp, the other holding a towel together around his legs and feet. It was pure luck that he instinctively had reached for the towel when the king grabbed him. Without, it he would have been incredibly exposed for all to see as the king walked them around the corridors. He had no idea where they were or where the king was leading him of to. From his small viewpoint on the floor he could only see the king's metallic clad boots.
The moment the corridors become more populated, whispers and hushed voices filled the air. Dread and horror swamped Harry's thoughts. It didn't even occur to him to plea for his innocence for he certainly had made a great offence for the king to be this absolute in his anger. He didn't see a point to ask for mercy.
They had reached one of the bigger halls, Harry didn't know which, heavily populated by many dwarves when the king let go of his hair. Harry fell down to the floor, legs curled together under the towel while the king walked around him gathering the attention of the crowd.
"Listen to me, my good people of Erebor." The king's deep voice filled the whole hall, making all chatter from the surrounding crowd fall silent. "Prostitution has been banned from these halls for several decades and has been declared against the law."
This didn't sit well with Harry at all. It had to be a misunderstanding from both parts, why would the king mention prostitution otherwise?
"It's equally forbidden to practice as it is to participate in. Someone in this mountain has seen it fit to send 'gifts'," a gold covered hand indicated towards Harry, "to win my favour. But I say this, to all of you as my witness, this will not go unpunished."
Cold blue eyes turned back to Harry's form as the mountain king walked towards him again.
It was now or never. He would have to speak now or else something terrible would happen to him, he was sure; it was unmistakeable from the look in those clear blue eyes.
"Please wait, it.."
"Be silent filth, your words have no meaning in these halls." The king rudely interrupted as he once more reached for Harry's hair.
"No, you'll have to listen," Harry demanded, pushing the gold covered hand away, preventing it from reaching its target. "This is all a mistake…" He didn't get to finish before the hand he had pushed away seconds before fell back over his face.
Momentarily stunned by the hit and the taste of blood in his mouth, Harry couldn't prevent the king for taking hold of his raven locks.
With the grip in his hair, Harry was force to sit on his shins to be on level with the king's hold. With his face high in the air, he couldn't avoid seeing the crowd of dwarves who had gathered around them. Many looked to him with shock written all over their faces, others bore looks of disgust and pity. None of the faces seemed familiar and this both calmed and worried him.
"As punishment for his crimes, this dwarf will be banished from Erebor and his hair will be cut of so his shame is for all to see." The king announced this loudly as he drew a dagger from his belt at the hip and pressed it towards Harry's hair.
"Let this serve as a warning to all who dare go against the law." The king's voice sounded from behind Harry.
Threads of black silk fell down around his vision and he was suddenly filled with a burst of anger to the point where he couldn't stay silent.
"I'm guilty of none of the crimes you accuse me of. This isn't justice. You people are making a terrible mistake! Let go of me you stupid dwarf!" Harry raged out.
"My King." The call, ran loud and clear, quickly gaining the attention of everyone but most importantly the king, who stopped his action. Harry recognized that voices and was relieved when he saw Nori step through the crowd.
"Thorin," he continued in a much lower voice as he walked closer, "let go of him. I know this dwarf and he isn't involved in that business, he's innocent."
Note
Welcome, to the finish line for this chapter!
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