-- Harry --
Oh, ow.
That really fucking hurts.
Kayli sighs, spins out her blades, and crouches down next to me. How she moves so fast, I will never know. I'm a Seeker. The youngest Seeker in over a hundred years. I'm supposed to have such great bloody reflexes and speed, but she makes me look like a really old geriatric. Older than Dumbledore even.
On the sidelines, I hear Remus mutter something that sounds a lot like 'that had to hurt.'
It's our third day of training. We only get it every third day, for a double class. Just so it doesn't interfere with our other lessons, Quidditch, DA, or study time.
Not that I HAVE any study time.
"You alive?" Kayli asks, almost casually. Her eyes are strangely distant.
Without thinking, I shoot a quick glance at Legolas. He looks distant and almost like he's in pain, and suddenly I recognize the look in Kayli's eyes. Worry. She is very much on the edge of freaking out. She seems to shake herself out of it and grins at me. She pushes back to her feet and extends a hand. "Pair off!" she hollers. "And no mixed houses!"
Not far away, Malfoy sighs. "Great," he mutters. "Another day stuck with Goyle."
I have to admit...I sympathize with him. If I had to deal wtih Goyle every day, especially to train with, I would have freaked out long before now. And probably beaten them to death. Most people have been learning, usually at a pretty ferocious rate. Not Crabbe and Goyle, uh-uh. Not in the slightest. They still flail and whack at people like they still don't know where the pointy end goes.
It's so sad.
Kayli winces as Crabbe nearly decapitates Nott. Ron and I look at each other and wince, then assume the fighting stance Kayli has busted her ass to drill into us.
Even as she's moving forward to seperate them -- because Crabbe hasn't gotten the clue that Nott's down for the count, and is still swinging at him -- Legolas intervenes and grabs the sword out of Crabbe's hand. "Usually when they fall down, you've defeated your opponent. Even if you are a jackass."
Kayli rakes both hands through her hair. Everyone's been going a little stir-crazy too. It's hotter than hell out here. The humidity's at about a hundred percent. Everyone is hot, sticky, and irritable. Hermione almost bit my head off this morning. Lavender and Parvati have been moving as little as possible, and even Ginny's about ready to leap up and attack.
It's starting to get scary.
"Crabbe," Kayli says sharply, "you are out of this class. That is the third time you have knocked an opponent unconcious through sheer stupidity, and I'm getting really bloody tired of it. I have put up with appeals from you Head of House the last two times, and you can just go ahead and tell Professor Death it's not workin' out. Charlie, Neville, get Nott to Pomfrey, please."
Neville and Charlie both nod, and hurry forward. Kayli shakes her head and points sharply at Crabbe. "Go," she snaps, "report to Snape. Go on, get lost. Everybody else, back to work!"
We all start working, seriously trying to bust our asses and impress her. If she's impressed, she won't take that truly impressive temper out on us, like she did with me earlier. I can keep up better with her than most of the other students can. Of course, she can still kick my ass.
And if Legolas interjects, we can just forget about it entirely.
The lessons are good, though. They're good teachers. Archery's really cool, too. Legolas has more patience than Kayli does, and he doesn't tend to flip out. But even if they do spaz, Elladan and Elrohir are never very far off.
"'Ey! 'EY!" a voice suddenly hollers out of nowhere. "I don't know what you bleeding dress-wearing freaks think you're doing, but ye can just stop it right now. And if ye think ye're getting me axe, ye can take a flyin' leap, pansy! Look at you! Ye're practically a damned ELF!"
Legolas's jaw drops, followed closely by his bow. Kayli actually fumbles the knife she's using to walk Colin through some motions. Elladan and Elrohir exchange shocked, wide-eyed glances.
And then Kayli's off, in motion, through the trees like she knows exactly were every single root and fallen branch are. Legolas swears and takes off after her.
There's a moment of silence.
"Well, children, I think that's the end of today's lesson," Elladan, -- at least I think it's Elladan -- says drily.
Then he and his brother leap down from the branches they're on and start shooing us back towards the castle.
Ron, Hermione and I deliberately hang back until we're walking next to the twins. Just as we get to the open castle doors, and a chance to talk to Elladan and Elrohir, when a familiar voice -- well, one of two, and that would explain the sinking sensation in my stomach -- says, quite cheerfully, "Well, well, well, what have we here?"
Suddenly, Ron and I are both grabbed by an arm around the throat and yanked off to one side. Immediately, Elladan and Elrohir's hands drop to their weapons, and their feet shift enough so that I know they're about two seoconds away from droppping into a fighting crouch, and from havng their weapons in their hands. And from there on out it'll be about ten seconds until all of us can be dead.
Hermione leaps in between them, and it's nice to know she's willing to sacrifice life and limb for us. Kinda creepy, but kind of sweet all the same. "It's all right! It's Gred and Forge! I mean, it's Fred and George! They're Ron's brothers! They're friends!"
Fred and George blink at her. "Um, yes. Did you hear that, Gred?"
"I did indeed, Forge."
The two of them look at each other and grin. "We're FRIENDS!"
Elladan looks in horror at his brother. "Tell me WE'RE not like that."
Elrohir winces. "I am not like that. YOU are much worse."
Ron and I exchange horrified glances.
Oh, NO. We'd hoped this wouldn't happen. Either they'll get along smashingly and start pranking the whole castle, or they'll not get along at all, and start a prank war on each other.
Either way, nobody wins.
-- Kayli --
Well, here's a sight I never expected to see.
Wait, make that HOPED I'd never see.
Gimli is currently engaged in a wrestling match for his axe with Hagrid. You would think, by sheer size alone, that Hagrid would be winning, but Gimli's got sheer determination on his side. He does not willingly part with his axe.
"Gimli!" I yell, then run up to him and throw my arms around him. He immediately lets go of the axe handle to give me a tight hug, and Hagrid staggers back at the sudden loss of pressure and nearly falls on his ass.
"There ye are, lass! Can ye give us some warnin', next time ye plan on takin' off like that? Ye had us worried! Where's the Elf? I'm gonna kill him!" He pushes me back on my ass and storms toward Legolas. "Ye had yer poor old father worried sick, ye bloody, pig-headed, inconsiderate son of an orc!" He gives Legolas a tight hug around the chest. "Bless ye, laddie, yer alive!"
Legolas grins and hugs Gimli in return. "I'm sorry. We would have sent word had we the faintest idea how to do so."
"Sorry, Gimli," I put in.
Professor Flitwick hurries forward and starts to help me to my feet. He doesn't offer me a hand, of course, more of a shoulder. He's really runty, but he's very sweet. I smile at him. "Thanks, Professor. Hey, not to interrupt the touching moment, but we should get up to the castle and tell Dumbledore what's going on."
"Professor Dumbleodre has been called out of the castle," Professor Slimy says, stepping out of the shadows. "Perhaps one of the teachers should escort your new ... friend up to the castle."
OK, there is no way I would let Professor Slimeball walk my worst ENEMY up to the castle. I grin at him, more baring my teeth than expressing any pleasure. "Good thing we're teachers then."
He sneers at me. "I meant a REAL teacher. Someone who teaches the students something useful."
"This from the guy who teaches the wizarding world's version of home economics," I snap back. "You throw stuff in a pot and boil it."
Snape looks like he's about to snarl. "You could never understand the delicacy of Potions."
I stop and think about it. "You're right," I concede. "I probably haven't given you enough credit. I'm sure making sure it does't blow up in your face is harder than it seems. And I'm sure some of your Potions are difficult and complicated. But what I do ain't a cakewalk either, Casper. I don't care how traumatized you were as a child or what the rest of your excuses for joining the Dark Side of the Force are. You're a scumbucket with severe inadequacy issues, and I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."
He sneers at me, which seems to be his usual expression. "I don't know where you get your information, girl, but I do NOT follow the Dark Lord."
I think back to the conversations I've been having with Harry. Ron doesn't trust Snape at all, and neither does Harry. Hermione's the only one who does, and she only really trusts him because Dumbledore does. I smirk. "Yeah? Roll up your sleeve. Left arm."
Legolas's eyes go wide, and he reaches for his knives. Hagrid freezes, still stooped over to pick up Gimli's axe. Gimli's looking back and forth between me and Snape, like a spectator at a tennis match.
Snape snarls, grabs my arm, and pulls me forward. "Listen here, you ignorant Muggle girl --"
"It would be wise," a deep, musical voice says mildly from off to our left, "to take your hands off my daughter."
Daughter?
Snape and I turn at the same moment. I see Snape's eyes go wide. Admittedly, mine are probably pretty large, too. King Thranduil is standing nearby, wearing a deep green cloak and holding his bow almost casually. But don't let THAT fool.you. I've seen Legolas hold it the same way and then have something dead about half a second later. And King Thranduil's scarier than Legolas is. Of course, he's had a lot more practice.
"Adar!" Legolas says, sounding startled.
"There you are!" Gimli huffs. "Thought maybe ye'd been lucky enough to stay home. Wandered off into the forest. Bloody tree-hugger."
Hagrid straightens up slowly. "Who's 'e?" he asks, sounding so confused I feel sorry for him.
"That, Hagrid, is King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen. He is a seriously kickass Elf. Which means, Professor Slimeball, that you should remove your hands."
"That would be wise," his Majesty says, still mild as can be.
Legolas, however, has a knife in his hands and is glaring at Snape. If looks could kill...
At the moment, I kind of wish they could. I never wanted to see his hair this close. Ick.
Snape sneers at Thranduil. "What will you do if I do not?"
"Kill you," Thranduil says conversationally. "If you raise so much as a threatening finger against her, you'll wish you hadn't."
He releases my arms and steps back with a sneer. I rake my hair out of my eyes. I hate it when I do shit like that. "Look, I'm sorry for pushing you. But you haven't made my life here a cakewalk, Professor. Maybe you should try charm school." I turn to Hagrid. "Who's in charge if Dumbledore isn't here?"
Hagrid scratches at his massive amount of beard. "That'd be Professor MacGonagall."
I nod and grin at him. "Thanks Hagrid." I give his arm a half-assed squeeze, since it's the highest point on his body I can reach. "Don't worry about them. They're the good guys."
He gives me a nervous smile. Blood trickles out of the corner of his mouth and disappears into his beard. "All righ', Kayli. Just be careful."
"Hagrid, what happened to your face?" Legolas asks suddenly. "You...do not look well."
King Thranduil's eyebrows nearly leave his forehead. I take a closer look at Hagrid's face. He doesn't look well, that's for sure. He looks rather beat up.
"Oh, it's nuthin'," Hagrid says cheerfully. "Grawp was just feelin' a friendly, so he gave me a pat on the back a little to hard. Right into a tree."
Behind him, Thranduil mouths 'Grawp,' looking at Legolas with raised eyebrows. Legolas shakes his head, with a little smile and a 'we'll-explain-later' expression.
It's sad when you know someone so well that you can read their every expression.
It's so MARRIED it makes me sick.
I rake a hand back through my hair and lead the way back to the castle. Behind me, Legolas and Thranduil are talking in Elvish, rapid-fire enough that I can't even begin to follow it, but then my Sindarin is rudimentary at best.
Professor MacGonagall is not going to be happy to see us. She likes me well enough, but she can't stand Legolas and she hates to see us together. I think she's worried we're corrupting the innocent students with all of our public displays of affection. And for some reason, Legolas delights in irritating her, which is why we're so affectionate in public. When she's around at least.
Not that I need an excuse to cuddle with him, but he sort of needs one to be so affectionate in public. Elves are usually fairly reserved people.
Um. Anyways.
Professor MacGonagall is hunched over her desk, correcting Transfiguation homework. She glances up when we knock on her door, and, while she may be getting up there in years, she sure as hell ain't dead, her jaw drops and she blushes slightly when her eyes land on Thranduil.
Legolas looks amused.
"Oh. Um. Hello. Kayli. New guests? Again?" She recovers quickly, straightens her glasses, and stands up, smoothing her robes into place.
"Yeah, 'fraid so," I reply, and gesture behind me. "This is Thranduil, King of Eryn Lasgalen, and Legolas's father. And this is one of our fellow Questers, Gimli, son of Gloin, of the Lonely Mountain."
Gimli bobs his head in acknowledgement, slightly awkward. Magic makes Dwarves kind of nervous, and this place is absolutely crawling with the stuff. King Thranduil, on the other hand, presses his hand over his heart and bows gracefully, the soul of respect and courtly manners.
He's an Elf. They have lots of practice at stuff like this.
"My Lady," he says politely.
Professor MacGonagall blushes again. "It's just Professor, I'm afraid, Your Majesty. I'm afraid we don't have any rooms available for visiting royalty, but we can make you comfortable enough, I suppose."
Thranduil looks confused a moment, then amused. I don't really think he was worried about his rooms. After all, he spends as much time out of his palace as in it. Elves aren't bit on being caged in, no matter how pretty the cage.
I hope nobody else shows up. I hope we can find our way home BEFORE someone else comes looking for us and encounters whatever sent us here.
The last thing I need is my brothers, the sons of Elrond, and the Weasleys all in the same place. I might as well just kill myself if that happens. If MacGonagall doesn't get to me first.
I guess that just leaves prayer, huh?
-- Neville --
Ron looks kinda paranoid. He keeps looking back and forth between his brothers and Kayli's friends like he expects them to start hexing each other.
I wouldn't put it past Fred and George, but the other two are Elves. I mean, they're old -- not that they look it -- and wise. They should be above such things.
Right?
Harry and Hermione look uncomfortable. Hermione looks almost as panicked as Ron, and Harry looks like he's already decided to put Locking and Alarm Charms on everything he owns. Remind me to do that when I get back up to the dormitory.
It's not that I don't trust them, it's just...Well, actually, it is that I don't trust them. Gran's always accused me of being too trusting. She's obviously never went to school with the Weasley Twins.
Kayli and Legolas come out of the doors, trailed by a short, very confused looking man with a huge beard, and a tall man with long blonde hair. He actually looks quite a bit like Legolas, except with green eyes. And he's a bit taller. And scarier, which is probably very, very bad.
Kayli suddenly stops, causing the short one to bump into her. She looks at the Elf twins, then at Fred and George, and then says something in a language I don't understand. Legolas looks shocked, and the tall one looks amused.
"Did you teach her anything but the curses?" he asks, sounding like the whole situation is funny.
Legolas sends his companion an annoyed look. "I DIDN'T teach her the curses, Adar," he says, then looks at the Elf twins. "She learned it from them."
"Ah. Not surprising, really."
Both Elf twins turn and bow, very low.
"Welcome, your Majesty," says the serious one -- Elrohir, I think.
"We're overjoyed at your presence," says the other one -- I think his name is Elladan.
I could have them backwards. Kayli says they're interchangeable.
"Right," the Elf says drily.
Kayli sighs. "Your Majesty, may I introduce you to Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter. The other two redheads are Fred and George Weasley, no idea which is which, and the silent one over there is Neville Longbottom. He's a nice kid. Those two are troublemakers, Harry's this world's version of Frodo, and Ron and Hermione are his best friends. Kids, this is Thranduil --"
Hermione gasps. Then Ron steps hard on her foot. Kayli sends her a look that says 'Silence or death.' "He's the King of Eryn Lasgalen and Legolas's father."
"A King?" Fred says.
"Really?" George says. "I mean, like, a really honest-to-goodness King?"
Thranduil looks at Kayli, eyebrows raised.
"Not a lot of real monarchy's over here," she says. "And I think they have a Queen."
"Uh, we have a Minister," Ron mumbles, looking at the King with wide eyes.
Harry has the strangest people show up. I mean, seriously. First it was Professor Quirrel, who had He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the back of his head, then it was Professor Lupin, who turned out to be a werewolf. Then it was Sirius Black, who we all thought wanted to kill him, then it was the guy who wasn't really Mad-Eye Moody. The only problem with all the interesting blokes in Harry's life is that most of them want to kill him.
"But yes, he is a real honest-to-goodness King, and Legolas is a real, honest-to-goodness Prince."
"So you're a real, honest-to-goodness PRINCESS?" Ron blurts.
I can't really blame him. Kayli doesn't come across as a Princess. She comes across more as a badass. As somenoe who could put you in the ground without a second thought. That's all right. Better the ground than St. Mungo's.
Kayli winces. "No. I am NOT a princess."
"Yes," Thranduil says calmly. "She is a real, honest-to-goodness Princess. She doesn't like it very much, but I doubt she'll ever have to worry about being Queen."
Kayli actually pales at that, and I can't help but smile.
"Thank the VALAR," she says. "I can barely get a garrison to listen to me, let alone a whole damn kingdom."
"The thought of being a Queen is off-putting to you, then?" George says, sounding like he doesn't believe her.
"YES," she says. "Being a Lady of Gondor is bad enough. When you're a Queen you have to act like a girl all the time. I'll leave that to ladies who are more prepared for it. Like Arwen. And Lothiriel."
"Wait -- you knwo QUEENS?" Fred says.
It's not often you see the twins actually shocked, but I think she managed.
"Yeah. A couple," she says casually, like being on a first name basis with royalty is no big deal. "Also Princes, Princesses, Kings, Lords, Ladies and Stewards. I can stand most of them. But mostly I just know soldiers. Makes sense, since I AM a soldier."
"You're...like, a commander or something? Back of the line?" George asks, looking really curious.
Elladan and Elrohir look at each other and laugh.
"A commander she is, and woe to any who cross her or harm her Men," one of them says, "but back of the line she is NOT."
"She couldn't bear it," says the other. "She's a fighter, is our Kayli."
"And you fight WITHOUT magic?" Fred says. "HOW?"
Kayli draws one of her knives from her boot. "With these," she says drily. "We don't have wands, we have blades and bows. Just as effective, but messier." She nods at Ron and Harry. "You want a demonstration, ask them. They've been learning."
Just like that, Fred and George turn on Ron. "You've been fighting? With KNIVES?"
"Mum's gonna have kittens!"
"Big, carnivorous kittens," Hermione adds. "Ron told her it was a dueling club."
"That's not a lie!" Ron says hotly. "Just...a little fib."
"You're meat," George says.
"We'll give you a splendid funeral, though."
"If there's enough left to bury."
"You've been teaching them?" Thranduil asks, turning to Kayli. "How have you managed to keep your sanity?"
"Very carefully," she replies. "And I haven't been teaching all of them. Hermione and Neville work with the injured. It's all bruises and broken bones." She reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. "Neville's getting pretty good with his bone-setting charms."
I blush and duck my head, instantly cursing my fair complexion. "I'm not really learning anything useful for a battle, though," I mutter.
"You're wrong," Thranduil says suddenly. "I've always thought the job of the Healers is as great as that of the warriors. If not greater."
"Why don't you tell Elrond that, instead of fighting with him?" Legolas asks.
"I'd sooner cut out my tongue."
Kayli ruffles my hair. "He's right," she says. "I've always thought the Healers had a pretty important job, and a tough one. And if they weren't good at it, I'd've lost some friends along the way. And I'd probably be dead, too. Never underestimate what you do, Neville. And if you're a Healer on the battlefield, you're risking your ass as much as any soldier."
"More," Thranduil says. "Most armies tend to aim for the Healers."
"Does yours?" I blurt out, before I think. Oh, hell, that's probably rude. I just questioned royalty. If the ground opened up and swallowed me, I don't think I'd complain.
Thranduil smiles grimly, and he thankfully doesn't seem offended. "No. I spent most of my life fighting Orcs, and they care little for the deaths or wounds of the comrades."
I wonder what it would be like to spend your whole life at war.
It must really suck.
But that's what makes Harry so important. He can defeat Voldemort, so if any of us happen to have kids, like Ron and Hermione's fleet of red-haired, buck-toothed offspring, the ones I can see happening, don't have to grow up and have the first spells they learn be hexes and jinxes and curses to defend themselves.
But being a Healer will always be necessary. And I'm GOOD at stuff like that. Kayli's right. They always needs Healers, and not just for war. For accidents and duels and other stuff.
I smile. Gran won't like the fact that I want to be a Healer, but it's something I'm good at, and I can work with plants. Herbology's my best subject, you know. And plants play a big part in magical medicine.
Finally, I have something I CAN do.
TBC...