Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Tolkien or the works of J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for this story.
Summary: A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossover that's a bit different to the norm.
AUTHORS NOTE: I know I'm sort of going back on what I said in the first chapter as I post this – that being that it's a quicker update than I intended – but I'm relatively happy with how this chapter turned out and the next chapter is progressing well at the moment so I'm content to put this up now.
I thought about responding to individual reviews but instead I have decided to try and stick to the story and provide extra information through that. I will however make a response to Lord Damon Shadowmage who complemented my writing and say thank you for that but to warn you that the quality of my work generally deteriorates as the story progresses, so don't be too hasty to praise it.
And also I will make a quick response to dead feather just because I don't know how to get this bit of info across in the story, I have specifically chosen to use a alternate version of Harry Potter for this story but have yet to decide exactly what happened to him before his arrival in Middle Earth in this story so I'm not entirely decided on what age he is but, as I write the story I imagine him as being in his late teens. And yes this is still a Lord of the Rings crossover as the story I'm basing it on has far more to do with that than the Silmarillion, the Hobbit or Tolkien's other works.
In addition I have decided to change the way I divide sections as I don't think the way I did it in the last chapter stood out very well.
Code for the following chapter: English Westron
~ Chapter Two ~
As Harry slid his robes onto his shoulders and tied them together the woman attempted to talk to him again but it was to no avail. Whatever language she was speaking was completely undecipherable to him. He sighed again.
"Look," Harry tried, "maybe we can work something out here. Let's start with names, shall we? I'm Harry," he pointed at himself, "Harry."
A look of understanding came across her face. She placed the bowl down on a nearby stool and stood up straight. She pointed at herself and said clearly and slowly; "Frewyn."
"Frewyn?" Harry repeated, "Kind of a strange name but who am I to judge? Nice to meet you Frewyn." He extended a hand towards her.
The newly christened Frewyn however stared at his hand in confusion, obviously wondering what he wanted her so do.
He decided to help her about a bit and, with as charming a smile as he could muster he said, "This is how we say hello where I'm from." then reached out to grasp her hand but she stepped back.
She said something else in an obviously confused and slightly scared voice as she backed right up against the wall. Realizing that he may have made a mistake Harry held his hands up in a sign of non-aggression and backed away.
"Sorry," he said as he made his way over to his cot and sat down so as to appear even less of a threatening figure. "There, see, I'm not going to hurt you. I only want to talk…or try to at any rate"
After a moment Frewyn, now apparently certain he wasn't going to do anything to her, relaxed a bit and moved away from the wall. She said something as she picked up the bowl and turned towards Harry.
"What? What do you want to do with that?" Harry asked as he sat up a bit straighter and tried to see what was in the bowl. She put her hand into the bowl and brought up a wet rag. Then she imitated washing her face before she held the rag out to him. "Oh! I see. It's for washing. Alright, just put it down there and I'll see about it in a minute."
She stood still for a bit before Harry pointed to the stool and motioned her to put the bowl down there. Once she had he motioned for her to leave the room and give him some privacy while he washed.
As soon as she had left the room he removed his robes again and approached the bowl. Picking the wet rag up he began to wash his body with a sigh.
The language barrier was going to be a real pain, he thought. Names could be exchanged and some things could be worked out through gestures but the inability to communicate with each other with words would make finding out exactly where he was or what had happened impossible.
More importantly he would have to find his wand soon, but this would make a new problem. He couldn't risk doing magic around Frewyn and whoever else was around here until he found out whether or not they knew about magic in the first place. And judging by the building, the furniture and the washing facilities it was probably a safe bet that they were Muggles from a particularly impoverished part of the world.
This meant he would have to search for his wand manually, once he got out of this room.
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/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
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"Mother!" Frewyn called as soon as she had left the room. "Mother! He has woken!"
"Calm yourself Frewyn! This is hardly any news to get exited about." Freya said as she rose from her chair by the fire to approach her daughter. Freya was much like her daughter in that she was blond headed and fair of face, a considerable older face but fair nonetheless, one clear difference however was that Freya was very noticeably pregnant. "I trust you left him to wash himself?"
"Well…yes, but he was talking in a strange tongue so I cannot be sure whether he truly understood." Frewyn answered. "I could not understand anything he said and I doubt he understood me either."
"A strange tongue?" Freya said in a surprised tone before she shook her head and placed that information in the back of her mind. "Never mind, never mind, I am sure we can find out more about him in time. Now then, he has been asleep for several days and I do not doubt he will be hungry, why don't you find your father and tell him our guest had awoken and I'll make some food."
"But…" Frewyn began.
"No arguments girl! I have a lot to do here and do not have time for that." Her mother said and she turned and began to walk towards the pantry.
Frewyn sighed and left the house to find her father.
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/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
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A few weeks had passed since Harry had woken and unintentionally flashed the daughter of his host. He had fallen into a routine of waking with the sun, helping the matriarch of the house prepare the morning meal and cleaning up in its aftermath before spending the rest of the day with a local elder called Leor who was attempting to teach him the language.
He was not the best of students.
He found it hard to grasp even the basics of the language and after his thirteen lessons to date he had managed to acquire all the vocabulary of a two year old and had to resort to pointing at things and repeating words such as "want" and "need" in the local dialect to get make his point. Thankfully he had managed to learn the local equivalent of "please" and "thank you" and "sorry" so he didn't appear totally rude, but nevertheless it was trying.
Meeting the patriarch of the household was somewhat daunting. Beor was an intimidating man. He was tall and powerfully built, such as one who has worked all his life in physical labour would be, and with his full beard and shoulder-length dark hair he had all the appearance of a Wildman. Luckily however his intimidating size hid a kind man and Harry had discovered quite early that Beor was not about to throw him out on the streets until he could fend for himself, or at least talk the local tongue.
Thankfully too, Harry had found his wand. It had been placed amongst the firewood and kindling, which did annoy him a bit but he was just glad that it wasn't damaged. Without knowing where he was there was no way he could replace it.
Freya reminded Harry very much of Mrs Weasley as she bustled around the house doing what chores she could. It was clear to anyone who even looked briefly in her direction that she was quite pregnant and couldn't do too much so Harry, so as to be a good guest and not just a freeloader, helped her and her daughter with their household chores.
Freya was aglow and generally cheerful. Occasionally her moods would swing in the opposite direction and she would be quite terrifying to be around, not least because she had proven herself able to subdue not only the large Beor but the equally large Leod with a few choice words and a well placed fist.
Frewyn was altogether more difficult to be around. Whenever Harry came within two feet of her she instantly turned beet red and avoided looking at him. It was a perfectly normal reaction for a shy girl but a bit annoying nonetheless.
Harry often found himself accompanying her to the river to collect water or to the local markets to collect food and these trips were filled with a silence made not from the inability to communicate but the awkwardness of two teens who had some attraction between them.
The town itself was small and not unwelcoming. It was not completely hospitable but that was about as much as could be said against it. The men spent most out the day out in the field tending to their livestock or crops or even fishing while the women tended to domestic matters and elders spent their time teaching the young…and Harry.
Such was his life that he spent all his time doing domestic work and learning with children.
The more immediate problem however was his memory which remained jumbled and confused. Beyond his name, the knowledge that he was a wizard and the occasional glimpse of some people or place he really couldn't make heads or tails of any memory he had. It was getting to the stage that he was beginning to think they weren't his memories at all.
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"Teaching that boy is impossible Freya! He is incapable of grasping all but the most basic of words!" a diminutive grey haired man complained. He was missing a leg and carrying a cane.
"Surely he cannot be un-teachable Leor," Freya answered. "He is a hard worker and seems such an honest child. I am sure he tries hard to learn."
Leor sighed. "There is no doubt that he tries hard but the lad does not have the capacity to understand our tongue. I fear it would take the rest of my lifetime to teach him all of it and maybe even longer still."
"Oh…"Freya gazed inside her home where the young man was busy cleaning the floor with some concern. "There must be something you can do. He was in such a state when he was brought here; it is a wonder the poor boy recovered. Can you not at least persevere until he can at least speak in sentences?"
Leor turned to Freya and followed her gaze before he sighed again. "If it were any other than you I would have never expected to see the child at all. You have done him a great kindness, no doubt, but I wonder whether it is truly worth it. Why did you not cast him out when he regained his strength? Why do you persist in you efforts to aid him? He is nothing but a stranger to you."
"Because I could not live with myself if I were to cast a child out into the world without even being able to understand the words of others. Helping him is the right thing to do" Freya leant back against the doorframe and turned her gaze to the sky. "Besides, Frewyn is smitten with him and I know she would not forgive me if I were to force him out."
"Ah! I see!" he said with a smile
"And what is it you see Leor?!" she said, turning a glare to the elder.
Leor turned his smile in her direction. "Your daughter, you have always coddled that child."
"Nonsense, I treat her no differently to any other child." She denied
"Perhaps," he said dismissively and sniffed shortly. "Whatever the case, send the boy to me tonight and perhaps I may be able to teach further."
"Thank you Leor"
"Never mind all that! You can thank me by getting rid of him! The sooner the better!"
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/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
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"I honestly do not know what is wrong with that boy!" Beor bemoaned as he slammed his flagon on the table
"He is trying his best I am sure. It cannot be easy to learn a new tongue." Leod consoled, leaning on an elbow so as to face his companion.
"You do not know how hard it is to have someone who you cannot speak to and cannot speak to you living in your own home. It is all fine and good that he works hard and he has been a great help to Freya yet I am constantly worried about his intentions. Without being able to question him I have no way of knowing what he will do or what he wants to do." Beor grumbled as he sank into his folded arms.
"So why did you let him stay?" Leod asked, "If you are so worried about this"
"I could not throw the boy out!" Beor answered. "He was almost dead, he is underfed and weak. He wouldn't last an hour on his own! Beside…Frewyn has taken a liking to him."
"You're her father Beor and a well respected man in this community; you should not allow your love for your daughter to blind you to that." Leod reprimanded.
"I know that! I have always known that!" Beor responded angrily and then sighed "But Frewyn is just like her mother. Though she is a blushing maiden whenever the boy is near she is like a cornered she-wolf otherwise."
Leod laughed. "What? The mighty Beor afraid of his own daughter?!"
"Afraid of her? No. I am afraid of what she may do if I were to deny her. I do not doubt that she would follow him without hesitation should I cast him out. I could not live with myself in the knowledge that I drove her away." Beor drank his ale from his flagon once more "And Freya! She would never forgive me!"
"Then you must endure." Replied Leod, now that he understood his friend was in no mood for jokes. "At least until he is ready to leave on his own or until you can get him to leave with no problems remaining with your family"
Beor sighed again. "You are right, of course, but I…there are times when I regret saving him."
"You don't mean that." Leod said after a gulp of ale.
"…no, no I suppose do not. But I do regret letting him stay."
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/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
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The night was starless as clouds covered the sky and draped the landscape in darkness. There was no light this night save for the candles that lit the local tavern and households along the street.
The settlement was quiet and still. The only sound was the whistling wind, the distant sound of rushing water from the river and the occasional steps of people making their way home from the tavern.
Some distance away from the town, in a scouting outpost, a young man settled in for a night of guard duty. This was a regular duty for everyone who lived in the settlement and had been for years. The job required a skilled eye to watch for movement in the dark as that was when the Goblins and Orcs hunted.
Despite the increased activity of those creatures in recent months this position had been neglected for a while. Beor, in concern for the growing amount of Goblin activity, had tried desperately to improve this in a short amount of time but it was an uphill struggle.
Perhaps it was a result of that negligence, perhaps it was a result of the long, hard days work he had done in the daylight hours or perhaps it was a result of his inexperience, no one knew, but this young man who held this post was about to make the biggest and last mistake of his life.
He fell asleep.
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"No! Why must you make this so hard?! It is not that difficult!" shouted Leor angrily
"…sorry" the boy at least had the decency to look abashed, even if he didn't understand what was wrong. Leor, however, was not consoled by this.
"You are, without question, the worst, most incompetent student I have ever had the misfortune to teach! I should wash my hands of you and cast you out! Why I ever agreed to this I shall never know!" the old man threw up his hands and turned away from his hapless student
"…sorry" the boy said again in a subdued tone.
"Of course you are! You are always sorry!" Leor raged. "Sorry does not help you learn!"
"Sorry….please?" the boy held a piece of parchment, offering it in Leor's direction.
"What is the point?! You will never understand it! When I am dead in my grave and gone to the halls of my fathers you will still be ignorant! You are un-teachable!" Leor grasped his cane and hauled himself up onto his one remaining foot. Then he hobbled to the door and pushed it open.
The boy stared at him with innocent eyes, the parchment still in hand and his face a picture of hopeful naivety. "Please?" he said again.
Leor glared and thrust his hand at the door. "Leave!" He said. "Leave me be! I can teach you nothing! Go back to wherever it is you came from!"
The boy's face fell and the hope dwindled but still he tried again. "Please?" his voice quiet and pleading. He was willing to learn, that was undeniable, but willingness only went so far.
Leor sighed. It was hard to hate someone who tried so earnestly to learn what you taught, but it was easy to get frustrated and annoyed. "Go," he said shaking his head, all his anger drained, "come back tomorrow and we'll try again. I need a break."
The boy sighed and seemed to resign himself to the fact that his lesson was over. He collected all he had brought with him in a small sack that he placed over his shoulder and walked towards the door. Stopping in the door frame he turned to Leor and asked quietly; "…tomorrow?"
"Yes, yes! Tomorrow! Now don't hang around all night I am tired and want to rest." Leor answered and he pushed the boy out of the door.
"Thank you" the boy said before walking being his walk to his temporary home with Beor. Leor slammed the door closed and hobbled to his bed with a huff.
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Harry stared at the closed door of his teacher for a moment before he turned away and, with a sigh, began to walk away. He supposed he couldn't blame Leor for getting frustrated with him; after all he was frustrated with himself as well, but even so the disappointment at being cast aside still lingered.
Walking down the dark street towards his temporary home a cool breeze blew around him. He could hear the occasional sounds of people moving and stirring in the night, of punters returning to their homes after a nights drinking in the inn and the ever present dull roar of the river flowing nearby.
His gracious hosts would no doubt be in bed before he returned, except the master of the house who would probably be brooding in front of the fire as was his usual habit after a nights drinking.
Beor was an okay sort of chap but Harry got the feeling that he held some hostility towards him for some reason, probably to do with Freywn's crush on him. But really that could hardly be blamed on Harry could it? It wasn't as if he'd charmed her to like him.
Stopping for a moment several houses down from the house of Beor Harry gazed up at the sky. There was no real reason for it, he just felt like doing so, but as he watched the dark clouds move around the sky and glimpsed the moon behind it he turned his thoughts to the future.
How long could he stay here? It wasn't a bad life really, bit uneventful but not bad, but every now and then he got the feeling that he wasn't supposed to be here, that he had somewhere else he was supposed to be.
Maybe someone was looking for him, someone who knew what had happened to him, someone who could help him sort the jumble of his mind.
Maybe…
…Maybe not. Maybe he had just been dropped here by fate and had nothing left to go back to. Maybe he had no purpose, maybe he was just lost and forgotten…a depressing thought.
A scrabbling sound brought him out of his contemplation. It was a sound not unlike the patter of a rodents feet but the sound was far louder than any rodent cold make. It was soon joined by another sound and then another and another before silence returned.
Unnerved by the sound, Harry's first though was to run for the safety of Beor's house but a second thought swept across his mind telling him that doing that would be cowardly and Ron would never let him live it down….
He therefore decided to investigate.
Another scrabbling sound drew his attention to one of the dark alleyways between the houses. He gazed into it intensely and, after several moments, a shadow twitched…or did it? Did he imagine it? Approaching the alleyway slowly he leant forward and raised his left hand as if it were a shield.
"Hello?" he tried. "Is someone there?"
No response. A shadow definitely twitched in the darkness. Something was definitely hiding there.
He moved closer. "Look, I don't mean any harm, so there's no need to be afraid." Still no response, "If-if your hurt maybe I can help you. Not that I know much about healing mind you but I'm sure that I can find someone to help."
Nothing stirred. A light glinted off of something in the darkness and suddenly Harry found himself staring at two pale eyes. There was something odd about those eyes…
"Hey!" He said, deciding to interpret that odd look as caution. "You can come on out, no ones going to hurt you. There's no need to be frightened."
Harry was almost on top of the alleyway now. Suddenly something felt completely wrong. Why hadn't he had a response? Ok, so he had been using English instead of the local tongue but even then he should at least have gotten a confused reply. So why hadn't he gotten anything.
He leaned into the alleyway.
CLANG!
Harry had leap back just in time to avoid a jagged looking blade as it slammed down where he head would have been. He looked on in shock as the blade disappeared back into the darkness and a creature emerged.
It skin was greenish and its eyes glowed in the meagre moonlight. It wasn't a tall creature - embarrassingly its height was similar to his own – but had a tough, muscular body mass clearly visible under its fur-lined rags that passed for clothes and chain mail. It had a crop of black hair that started in the middle of its forehead and fell behind its neck like a horse's tail, it had slightly pointed ears and its teeth were jagged and broken and clearly displayed as it advanced from the darkness with a growl. It was, in short, the kind of monster parents told their children about to get them to behave.
Suddenly, however, Harry was angry. "What the hell is your problem?!" He shouted at it. The creature merely spat out a harsh reply that sounded, although he could not understand a word of it, like an insult or a threat. "What?! I'm not afraid of you! I've seen nastier things on a lavatory brush!"
The creature response wasn't what Harry expected. It growled again and leapt forward, swinging its jagged blade at him.
Harry dropped to the floor and rolled away, dodging the blade by an inch. His hand immediately flew to the right pocket of his robe but to his horror he discovered his wand wasn't there. "Merlin's Beard!" he cursed. "Of all the times to lose my wand it had to be when some psycho's trying to kill me!"
He leap to his feet and quickly stepped back to avoid another swing of that blade. Before he could get his bearings he found himself ducking and briefly wondered why before he saw another blade pass over his head.
Scrambling some feet away he turned back to look at his attacker. "There are two of them?! Give me a break!" Indeed the first creature had been joined by another and now they both advanced against him, both growling and snarling at him.
Deciding discretion was the better part of valour he turned to run but before he could one of the creatures had leapt upon him and slammed him into the ground. Lying on his side he groaned in pain and turned his gaze up. His attacker had raised its blade above its head and in preparation of a downward swing that would no doubt smash his skull in two.
Acting on instinct he brought his knee up to the creatures back and managed to knock it off balance, giving him enough time to scramble to his feet before he was slammed into the side of a building with a jagged blade to his throat. Luckily his arms were free and he took advantage of it to slam his palms onto the creature pointed ears, forcing the creature to back off.
"Bugger!" he exclaimed as he rolled to dodge the second creature blade as it sliced through the air and embedded itself in the building wall. "What did I do to deserve this?!"
As soon as he was on his feet he was running for Beor's house and hopefully safety but he didn't manage to get more than two feet away before yet another creature, larger than the first two, leapt out of the shadows and swung a blade at him.
He leapt to avoid the blade but found himself tumbling face first onto the ground. Surprised he attempted to stand up and run for salvation once more but his left leg gave out. Looking down he saw blood running down his leg and pooling around him. A gash about two inches in size had been taken out of his calf.
He cursed. Looking up he saw all three creatures advancing on him menacingly. Cursing again he attempted to drag himself away only to find his back soon pressed against a wall. 'Damn!' he thought 'Could this day get any worse?!'
He glowered at his three assailants as they surrounded him. What the hell was going on?! He hadn't done anything to provoke this attack. He'd just been minding his own business and trying to be helpful when they attacked him for no reason. That just made him angry and the more he thought about it the angrier he got, and the pain from the wound in his leg only made him even more irate.
Through the anger and the pain he became aware of the mocking voices of his attackers. Though still undecipherable they were clearly insulting him, threatening him, mocking him. And that wouldn't do.
As the largest of his assailant brought his blade to Harry's throat he grinned a jagged, horrible grin and insulted him once more.
"Back off." Harry's tone was deadpan and in the situation it could be considered a somewhat futile gesture of defiance in the face of certain death however, Harry's emerald eyes sparkled.
A violent gust of wind exploded around the stricken wizard. It blew the three creatures off of their feet and slammed them hard against the wall opposite. There they fell, motionless.
Harry sat there for a moment, grasping his wounded leg, staring at the motionless bodies of his assailants. They might be dead…he could have killed them…it would serve them right, attacking him for no reason.
Summoning his bag, which he had lost in the furore, he sighed in relief and allowed himself to sink into a slouch. Thank god that was over. Maybe staying here wouldn't be as uneventful as he first thought; not if there were green skinned creatures trying to kill him!
The question was; why no one had come to check what all the noise was. He had made quite a ruckus trying to stay alive so surely someone should have come to check.
"Hey?!" He called out, "A little help here!" no answer. "Oh come on! Somebody's gotta be around!"
He sighed again and looked around him to find something to help him get to his feet. The only thing he could find was one of the jagged blades that had almost killed him. Leaning on the wall he pulled himself to his feet and moved the blade so that he could lean on that.
Hissing in pain he took his first hobbling steps towards Beor's house. It seemed a long way away but luckily the bleeding in his leg was stopping so the wound probably wasn't that serious, it just hurt like hell.
"AAARRGGHHH!" a pained scream rose in the night and almost made Harry lose his balance.
As if opening the gate more screams rose up into the night and were followed by shouts and calls of all kinds. Some were panicked, some were pained, some were defiant, some were foul and some were gleeful but altogether they made for a dreadful cacophony of wails and screams.
Oh god. He hadn't thought that there could be more of those things out there. That's probably why no one came to see what was going on a moment ago; they were probably busy fighting for their own lives….or running away, whichever was the most suitable course of action to them.
Still, there was very little he could do without his wand, especially as he had been injured, and that was likely at Beor's so his destination remained the same, but now some more caution was required.
Beor was standing in the door way, a pickaxe in hand, with three or four of the creatures dead around his feet. The big man was sporting several deep cuts and gashes and covered in blood, both his own and his assailants but he was still stood there, alive and guarding his home.
"Still alive?" Beor said in a neutral tone as he saw Harry hobble towards him. "Must have some luck about you."
"You…not…hurt?" Harry said in his broken way and motioned to the house in an attempt to convey his worry about Freya and Frewyn
"Tis a flesh wound." Beor answered. At Harry's curious glace he realized that the question was also about his wife and daughter. "They will be fine boy. I've sent them down river; the Chieftain will not turn them away."
Harry's gaze became confused. "….sorry?"
Beor let out a frustrated huff and answered in a put-upon fashion "They are safe boy! Safe. Do not worry about them; we are in more danger than them."
Harry may not have been able to grasp the language but he wasn't stupid and he was able to pick up that Beor was trying to reassure him that the remaining members of the household had gotten away safely. So he accepted it was a brief sigh of relief before hobbling past the taller man.
"Do not tarry. We must leave soon, before they arrive in greater force" Beor warned him as he passed. Harry gave a murmur of recognition, guessing the meaning of the words, before continuing on into the house.
Reaching the room he had called his own for the last few weeks he threw himself on the cot and placed his bag on the floor beside him. He first needed to tend to his leg which, though not bleeding as badly as before; was still bleeding so he tore off a long strip from the sheet covering his cot and fastened it around his leg as a makeshift bandage. While doing this he reflected on the events of the night.
Now that he wasn't fighting for his life he could admit to himself that he had been a complete moron. Thinking on the event now he knew he could have summoned his wand at anytime and not have had half the trouble he had. Rolling his eyes at his own stupidity as he finished bandaging his leg he sat up and proceeded to do exactly that. He waited for a few moments before seeing his wand fly through the window and land in his hand.
Having his wand back was a major relief to him. He felt completely defenceless without it and, though he had held his own tonight, it was clear that the battle today proved how much he needed it.
Suddenly the screaming began again outside, louder and closer than before and Harry could hear Beor's voice joining in the din, no doubt calling for him to hurry up and get out. He struggled to his feet and began lurched towards the door.
THUNK!
Something blunt hit the wooden wall.
Harry was suddenly more aware of Beor's cries. They were not calls for him to escape, they were battle cries. Those cries were joined by the screams of pain of his enemies and his own howl of pain and anger.
THUNK!
The wall was struck a second time.
Harry wasted no time in following the sounds of battle to come to Beor's aid. He fully intended to use his magic no matter what, statutes of secrecy be damned! This was a life or death situation, he had to do something.
He emerged into the main room and crossed the hall to exit the building and throw himself into the fray, a curse half on his lips when….
…CRACK! SMASH!
The wall gave way under enormous pressure and Harry found himself being buried under rubble. He saw a giant, carrying a wooden club, roaring in anger and triumph. The tall figure of Beor stood, his back to Harry, swinging his pickaxe in a wild fury, yelling incoherently as he did so.
In the midst of this chaos Harry succumbed to the darkness and knew no more.
~ End Chapter Two ~
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