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: In my latest revelation I have come to the conclusion that although setting this story in a period of Middle Earth history which is explored in only sparing terms by J.R.R. Tolkien has given me a great deal of freedom to create an almost totally new story it has handicapped me in another way, in that when I find myself stuck and struggling to progress the story I have very little to fall back on to give me ideas on the specific story in question. This has given me some trouble in getting this story rolling once more but hopefully this will only be a passing problem.
As an additional note, I changed the ending of the fourth chapter because as it was it made it difficult for me to push on in this chapter.
Code for the following chapter: English Westron this will be the last chapter this will be needed for due to the Dues-ex-machina added, a cheap way out but easier for the flow of the story.
~ Chapter Five ~
Harry watched as the rubble of the destroyed ceiling tumbled to the floor below and settled before the entrance to the flooded chamber. Until the dust had settled and the path was completely blocked he did not move, did not take his eyes away from the scene.
The noise was deafening in the confined space of the tunnel and the echoes of the rock and stone smashing onto the floor bounced repeatedly from wall to wall and floor to ceiling, undoubtedly reaching to even the darkest corners of the deep caves and tunnels.
Once the dust settled and the cacophony died down Harry at last closed his eyes, brought his hands to his face and breathed a deep, shaky breath. He turned, with dread settling in his heart, afraid of what he would find behind him. It was not fear for his own life or fear for his safety but a fear of his own uselessness.
"Ok Harry," he said to himself, "pull yourself together. This isn't the time to start panicking. Just…just turn round, you have to do it sometime so get it over with."
He drew in a deep breath once more and held it then turned and almost choked as he laid eyes on his companion.
Brego lay, unmoving, pale faced and breathing shallow, his eyes closed and body lifeless while around his head pooled a puddle of blood.
"Oh God!" Harry breathed, then dashed forward to hover over his fallen travelling companion. "Oh God! What do I do?! Think Harry, think! Um…? What…? What should I…?"
He moved back and screwed his eyes shut, drawing another long shuddering breath before hitting his forehead with his palms. "Calm down you fool! You're not doing anyone any good by losing it. Calm down!"
He fell silent once more and opened his eyes, moving his left hand to cover his mouth as he thought. "…check to see how bad the cut is…yeah, that's probably the right thing to do…" yet still he hesitated. "…I'll have to get a cloth or something…"
Looking around briefly he contemplated tearing a strip of cloth off of his clothes again but looking down he saw they were rather threadbare from the last few day's adventures so it probably wasn't a good idea. He turned his gaze to Brego and contemplated taking a strip off of his clothes but decided against it. Then a thought struck him, he was a Wizard. In his panic he had forgotten all about that, a mere oversight but one that made him feel rather foolish.
Transfiguring a nearby rock into a rag he wet it in the stream then moved on to kneel next to Brego. Carefully running the rag over his companion's head he searched for the wound, hoping it wasn't going to be deep. Minutes passed by in silence, twice he had to clean the rag before he could continue cleaning Brego's cranium, but at last the worst of the blood was gone and the wound was visible.
Harry sat back with a hiss at the sight of it. There were several cuts around the crown of Brego's head, most of them shallow but one that passed down towards his left ear looked deep and dangerous. This was pretty bad, he had no idea how to deal with such a serious looking injury, at least not properly, and pretty much the only thing he could do would be to bandage it up and hope that it didn't get any worse before he managed to get out of these caverns and find a healer.
Huffing in annoyance at his own impotency he proceeded to do just that by transfiguring anther rock into a bandage and wrapping it around Brego's head before he sat back.
He could not tarry here. The longer he stayed the worse Brego's condition was likely to become, and of course there were the Goblins to worry about. Others would come to discover what had befallen their comrades. At best they could reach the conclusion that the Troll alone had decimated the Goblins in the flooded chamber but there was no guarantee of this. And then there was the Troll. His disappearing act may have distracted it for a while but eventually it was going to realise it had been fooled and would attempt to find them once more.
In short, there were many reasons to keep moving and escape as quickly as possible and few reasons to stay.
With this revelation, which was hardly a revelation at all, Harry raised himself from the floor with a groan and stretched before turning his gaze once more to Brego. "…I'll get you out of here," he said softly to himself more than his companion, "find someone who can help you, it'll be alright…"
And with that he cast his Mobilicorpus once more and headed off into the darkness.
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With great caution Harry moved as fast as he dared, retracing his steps back to the fork in the road, so to speak. He encountered nothing on the journey but there was a quiet whisper which promised an increase of activity from something or someone in the tunnels, which all the more increased his desire to find a way out of what he was fast coming to think of as his own personal hell.
Upon reaching the fork he spared only a moment to check on Brego's condition, which appeared unchanged to his untrained eye, before turning into the second tunnel and continuing on his way.
After an hour or so the tunnel began to enlarge in both height and width. Like many of the tunnels he had passed before they had once been carved with great skill and displayed decorations only the most skilled of masons could have created with but they too lay in disrepair, broken and shattered.
A silver light shone in the distance, glimmering in the dark like stars. Hope filled Harry's heart. At last he must have found the exit to these dark, dreary and death-filled caverns. He all but ran towards the source of the light, all fear of Goblins and Trolls gone from his mind at the hope that he had at last found salvation.
Yet as he stepped into the light his hopes were dashed.
He stood not in the light of stars in the open country but in a large cylindrical hall which stretched up as far as his eyes could see and similarly fell down into the abyss, or so it seemed. The slivery light emanated from the walls where thousands, possibly millions, of precious stones glimmered and reflected, quite gallingly, the light produced by Harry's own wand.
Harry slumped against as wall in despair, allowing the sound of rushing water to wash over him. It was almost more than flesh and blood could stand. There seemed to be no end to these tunnels, no escape, no hope of seeing the light outside them. Yet even as he let these dark feelings overcome him he knew he would have to go on.
The water of the stream continued to flow besides him, cascading into a waterfall which fell down and seemingly vanished where the light faded.
To his right there were the remnants of a stair case that spiralled upwards yet they could no longer be reached as the bridge which led a path to them over the stream had collapsed. Had Harry not been weak from hunger and exhaustion he may have tried to levitate himself and his companion over the stream but he did not feel himself capable of this at the time.
This left the stairs to his left which spiralled down into the dark. There seemed to be a groove in the stairs, smoothed out as if something heavy had been dragged across it repeatedly over a many years. They were dangerous to tread on, not doubt extremely slippery yet they were the only path forward.
Steeling himself once more he set off on his journey, treading carefully with each step. Down, down into the dark. Endlessly, it seemed, time passed. Weariness and tiredness took a stronger hold of him with every passing minute until at last he could no longer resist.
His eyes closed, his head dropped and he fell forward, down the winding stair. The pain of this action, naturally, brought him back to his senses.
Brego lay beside him in a heap, unmoving save for shallow breaths, and bar a few bumps and bruises Harry himself seemed no worse for the fall. They had fallen down the remaining stairs before Harry was aware of what was happening and now found themselves in a large hall filled with mounds of gold and silver and jewels and even shields and swords made by an expert smith. It was…like every treasure trove a child dreams of discovering.
Harry glanced about the room, awed at the sheer amount of treasure piled in one place. He sat up, yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, the turned his tired gaze left and then right.
Two blood-red eyes bored into him and he knew no more.
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/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
. . . . . . . . . . .
"Harry?"
Someone was calling him. It was distant, like an echo in an empty room.
"Harry?"
The voice became clearer and seemed as if it was familiar, someone he knew, or had known, quite intimately, someone he trusted…
"You cannot rest there forever Harry, time is not on your side."
Harry moaned softly to himself and turned over. With a colossal effort he forced his eyes to open then lay blinking in a world of endless light – or so it seemed. Blindingly the light shone with a kind of whiteness to it. He raised an arm to shield his eyes yet it did nothing to block the light.
A chuckle caught his attention. "Perhaps it is a little too bright in here. Let me see if I can do something about that." After a moments or two of rustling cloth, clacking of some kind of stones and some mumbling whoever it was who shared this space, wherever that was, with him gave an "Ah ha!" of triumph and a loud CLICK reverberated.
The light was dragged away, like water being washed down a drain, drawn to one spot and dampening the vibrancy of the area until only a gentle glow was left. Another CLICK signalled the end of the task.
Harry could see he was lying on a sofa in the living room of a typically Muggle house. A TV in the corner, a fireplace with pictures and knickknacks resting above, a clock on the wall and a coffee table, nothing extraordinary about it at all.
"There," said the voice of whoever shared this room with him, "I think that's much better, don't you?"
Harry turned his head in the direction the voice had come from and froze.
"Dumbledore?!"
The old wizard sat in a large armchair, looking as out of place as you would expect of someone wearing purple and yellow striped robes in a Muggle's living room.
"What are you doing here?"
"Well, that's an interesting question," Dumbledore responded. "And it is more complex than you might first imagine. Can you first tell me where we are?"
Harry looked around the room and attempted to put the pieces together. The room was impeccable, not a single hair or bit of dust to be seen, above the fireplace were numerous photographs of a large child or that same child flanked by a tall thin woman and a rather large man.
"This is the Dursley's," Harry began before turning to face the elder wizard, "but why, how did I get here?"
Dumbledore lowered his head a glanced at Harry over his spectacles "Are you certain?"
Harry nodded. "I know every inch of this place, I grew up here, I'd know it anywhere."
"And that is the point, my boy," Dumbledore answered as he stood and walked to the fireplace. "This place is familiar to you, it is intimate to you but I am afraid that is it not the place you believe it to be."
"What?"
"Indeed. Number 4 Privet Drive does not exist in this time and place. What you see is merely a projection of a memory." Dumbledore continued as he picked up some ornament and examined it.
Harry lay in disbelief for a moment. "That can't be right." He said at length. "Why would I be stuck in a memory?"
Dumbledore replaced the ornament on the fireplace and turned back to face Harry. "Someone or something is assaulting your mind. Though you perhaps did not show the greatest aptitude for occlumency, the basics you have learnt embedded themselves in your subconscious. When the initial assault began, your consciousness fled to the deeper parts of your mind and raised a barrier to protect it."
"But I never liked this place!" Harry objected, sitting up. "Living with the Dursley's was horrible! They treated me like a slave half the time, locked me under the stairs! Why would any part of me choose this place for safety?"
"This building, this room, is merely one place where you never felt threatened by an outside source. It is one place where you feel at ease, or, rather, comfortable enough that you feel no fear. Though perhaps your ill feelings towards this place is why I am here." Dumbledore turned towards the window and began walking towards it. "I am sure that you must have realized that I am not really here either, I am dead after all."
"Well...maybe…"Harry conceded. "I was entertaining the idea that I was in some dream or nightmare or something"
"If only that were the case." Dumbledore said, a wistful look upon his face. "I'm sure we could both do with far less guilt on our consciences. Alas, I'm afraid you shall have to deal with your regrets some other time, we have more pressing matters to deal with." He turned away from the window and sat opposite Harry. "Whatever is assaulting you mind has considerable power and a skill in the arts of mental magic that would rival even the strongest of legilimancers or occlumancers. You must find some way to break its hold upon you before it breaches the walls of this sanctum."
"But how can I do that?" Harry asked.
"Whatever form this place may take, whomever you may summon to share this area with you, it is still your mind Harry," Dumbledore answered "and only you can answer that question."
"But I don't even know what I have to do!" Harry exclaimed, rising out of his seat for the first time since he woke. "Snape never taught me anything!"
"Didn't he?" Dumbledore said, somehow with a mix of both surprise and insight. "During your lessons was there not one time when you managed to expel him from your mind?"
Harry gave a short, derisive laugh and turned to the fire place. "Only once, and that was with a protego. I doubt that'd work here."
"Why not?" came the reply.
"Because this isn't real! This whole place is just some image conjured by my mind, nothing here is real!" Harry said with a shake of his head.
"That is not a reason not to try it." Dumbledore said, sitting calmly back in his chair. "What is real here is purely a matter of belief. It is your mind Harry, anything that happens here is as real or as unreal as you choose to make it."
Harry turned back to Dumbledore, his mind racing and stumbling over his words "But...but what if it does nothing? Or what if it makes it worse? What if…"
"Harry!" Dumbledore interrupted and caught Harry's eyes with his own, putting an end to Harry's train of thought. "There are a million 'what ifs'. Doubt will only cripple your mind. You have good instincts, and good judgement, follow them and do not doubt them."
"But what about Sirius? Or Cedric? I followed my instincts then and they got killed for it!" he objected.
"And that is regrettable, greatly so," Dumbledore answered. "But if you doubt yourself and your judgement then you will open you mind to further invasion and all hope will be lost."
"But how can I trust myself if all that ever happens when I do is people die?"
"How can you refuse to trust yourself if you have any hope of returning to the world of the living?" Dumbledore countered. "Certainly, use your mind. Do not trust your gut blindly but have confidence in yourself and you shall find a way."
Silence reigned as Harry dwelt on things. Eventually he spoke. "I…I don't know if I can trust myself anymore. I…too many things went wrong, too many people got hurt because I was wrong…I…I'm afraid, afraid I'd make the same mistake again and hurt more people."
"I can offer you few words of comfort Harry." Sorrow and regret lined those words. "We have both made mistakes but you must never forget them. Remember them and try to learn from them. Keep the memory of those whom you failed in you heart and endeavour to do better in their honour. That is what I did, or, at least, what I attempted to do. Then perhaps when the day comes when you meet them in the afterlife they will forgive you."
"…forgive me…I don't think they ever will…"
"People can surprise you Harry," Dumbledore gave a wistful smile. "Perhaps one day we will both find the absolution we seek. But that will have to be for another time." Dumbledore stood up. "Now, are you ready to give that Protego a try?"
Harry gulped and steeled his resolved. "As I'll ever be." He moved to the centre of the room and lifted his wand, or the mental personification of his wand rather, and prepared to cast the spell.
"I'm proud of you Harry," Dumbledore spoke. "No matter what happens, I am proud of you."
"Professor…" Harry began, embarrassed and feeling unworthy of the praise, but before he could go further the walls around him began to shake and crumble.
"Time has run out! Cast the spell Harry! Quickly! Before all is lost!" Dumbledore cried out. Harry hesitated, desperately he wanted his old mentor to know his mind but Dumbledore prevented it. "Go!" He insisted.
With regret about leaving his piece unsaid Harry turned from his mentor to look towards the shattering window. "Protego!" he cried and the world swirled around him.
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\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
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Strange visions flashed through Harry's mind or a dungeon of some kind, filled with all manor of lizards, dragons, trolls, goblins, demons, and many other unnameable creatures…of a great white city falling in flame and chaos…of a mountain tumbling to the ground, broken to ruin by the back of some mighty creature…of small men fleeing before him in terror…
Harry awoke with a start to find himself still in the treasure room with Brego still laying to his right. It was eerily silent, as if the room was empty save for Harry and his companion.
Yet Harry knew there had to be something here. Something with blood-red eyes, something that had some mastery of mind-magic, something that was a danger to him.
Whatever words he had spoken with the Dumbledore in his mind, whatever it was, were not important now and could be dwelt on later. Right now the important thing was to find a way out, and hopefully to do so without expending more effort and blood in battle with god knew what.
Moving as silently as he could he dragged the still unconscious Brego towards a pile of gold, intending to hide behind it until he could get his bearings.
The clinking and tingling or metals falling against each other froze him in his tracks.
"So the little Northman stirs" a voice hissed in the darkness. It was cold, unfeeling and seemed to regard him with come curiosity. "How strange it is that he alone in all these years should prove capable of breaking my hold. Tell me, little Northman, what trickery have you wrought that would grant you freedom?"
Harry knew that was the local tongue, some of the words were familiar to him, what shocked him more was that he understood everything. Little more than a day ago he could only understand and speak in short sentences yet suddenly it appeared he was fluent in it.
"Silent you stay. Is it that you believe you can conceal yourself from my gaze? Foolish little Northman!" The voice hissed once more.
Harry looked around to try to find the source of the voice but all he could see were the piles of treasure. He pulled Brego behind him and leant him against a pile of gold. Then he stood protectively in front of him and raised his wand, willing light into it, illuminating the room, yet still he could see nothing.
"What interesting skills you have, little Northman, to create such light from nothing. What other secrets do you hide, I wonder." Something moved to Harry's right and he jumped, pointed his wand in that direction with a curse on his lips only to see nothing but the scattering of gold coins on the floor.
"Who are you?" He asked "What do you want?"
A dark laugh reverberated around the room. "Who am I he asks?! What do I want he cries?! When it is he who has wondered so deep into my home without welcome! You who have trespassed in my halls dare demand answers from me?!"
"Look! I'm tired. I'm hungry. My friend needs medical care. We've been wondering about in these caves for who knows how many days now. I am in no mood for games. Tell me who you are and what you want with us or let me be!" Harry answered into the expanse.
A laugh once more answered him. "No time for games! Ha! Ha! Indeed little Northman? This is not the time for games? You, who have wandered in my halls, you who have trespassed in my home and who has disturbed my resting place, and now threaten me! Do you not know who you dare to challenge?"
"Obviously I don't or I wouldn't have asked!" Harry huffed with annoyance. "Stop hiding in the shadows and show yourself!"
"Ignorance!" the voice thundered. "Have I mistaken ignorance for courage?! What a foolish little man you must be to have walked in the hall unaware of the one who rules it!"
"I've had more pressing matters to deal with." Harry answered derisively. "What with Goblins and Trolls trying to kills me."
"Goblins!? Trolls!?" the voice scoffed. "Clearly you dwell in ignorance if you count them the greatest danger you face in there halls. Let me educate you further, little Northman, as to whose rest you have disturbed."
All at once in a great cacophony a mound of gold crashed to the floor and knocked Harry from his feet. Desperately he sought to gain a foothold and remain near Brego but it was a loosing battle and he was half buried under a pile of gold. He sat up, gripping his wand tightly but froze the second he saw what had emerged from beneath the pile of gold.
A long serpent like Dragon, at least fifty foot tall and a hundred foot long, a pale white colour with only two legs, its forelegs, resting its large claws on a large stone table on which it rested its head, which was about the size of a small bus full of large and sharp teeth, crowned with a mane of white horns gazed at him through half-lidded blood-red eyes.
"A dragon?" Harry gasped in surprise before he shrugged and muttered under his breath. "Sure! Why not? Why don't we just throw in a couple of Dementors and we'll have a complete set!"
"A dragon you say?" The dragon spoke, sounding insulted. "I am not a simple dragon! I am Scatha! The Worm of Dread! I have ruled these halls for centuries! My domain sweeps the land from here to the great river! I have slain countless heroes who sought to my head or sought my treasure! None have withstood my fury!"
"Full of yourself too."
"Insolence!" Scatha thundered. "Keep your tongue silent little Northman! You live still only because you interest me. I would know of the magics you possess. If you tell me then I may yet permit you to continue you pathetic existence."
"Why do you want to know anyway? It's not like you could use it yourself." Harry responded.
"It interests me. That is all the reason I need."
"And if I tell you," Harry continued cautiously. "You will let me and my friend leave."
"Fool! You dare dictate to me?!" The dragon exclaimed.
"I am not dictating. I am bargaining. There's a difference!" Harry answered
Scatha raised himself up on his forelegs and snarled down at Harry. "You are in no position to do so either way. I am the lord of these halls and you are answerable to me! You live or die by my will! You will tell me what I wish to know."
Harry did not quail before the Dragon's ire, though there was a creeping fear in the back of his mind, instead he stood up as tall as his small frame would permit him and stared straight into the Dragon's eye. "I will not," He said. "Unless you promise me that my friend and I will leave here safely."
The dragon roared in anger and frustration. "Enough!" he cried. "I shall waste no more time on you, foolish Northman. I shall grant you no promise of safety and you shall not see the light of day again. Know that for your impertinence you have doomed yourself!"
"Wait!" Harry cried but it was too late. Scatha leapt forwards and knocked Harry to the floor, knocking his wand from his hand. Harry turned and scrambled away, desperately seeking his wands amongst the rubble.
"You cannot run little Northman!" Scatha cried as he spun on the spot he landed and leapt after Harry once more.
Harry managed to dodge the Dragon's leaping form but was caught by its thrashing tail and sent careening into a pile of treasure. He groaned at the impact as stars danced in his vision. He vision cleared just as the Dragon pounced once more and pinned him with a massive claw.
Scatha crushed Harry beneath his claw and snarled. "Now do you see the price of your arrogance? Had you answered me I should have made your death quick, but you chose defiance and for that I shall ensure you that your death shall be agony untold."
Harry choked and gasped for air. His gaze swept left and right, up and down for anything that could help him escape. His hands swept amongst the treasure trying to grasp something to use as a weapon, finding only coins and goblets. His hand touched around a handle of some kind.
A strange sound came seemingly directly into his brain. It seemed to be a song. A deeply sorrowful song of despair, the song of something that had suffered long and rarely known happiness. He felt oddly drawn to it. He clasped his hand around the handle and the song changed. It seemed to rejoice, to be hopeful or better things to come, that light would break through the darkness.
Disregarding that for the time being Harry, in his desperation, dragged the weapon from the mound and swung it as hard as he could towards the dragon's head.
A scream of pain echoed throughout the hall. Scatha withdrew, writhing in agony, burying his head between his forelegs.
Harry sat up gasping for breath and looked at the weapon that saved his life. It was a broadsword made of some black metal with golden runes down the blade and a moulded black handle with gold leaf adorning it.
Silently thanking it for simply being there he stood up and stumbled towards Brego. Muttering the summoning charm, he called his wand to him and lifted Brego off the ground, wrapping Brego's arm about his shoulders to support him then sought the way out.
Scatha's wild leaps had disturbed much of the treasure and cleared the room. There were now several tunnels which could be seen leading out. Cold, fresh air blew from three of them so chances were high that they led the way out.
Before Harry could chose one however Scatha roared once more.
The Dragon had recovered from the initial wounding and, though blood was streaming down the left side of his face, had flown into an uncontrollable rage. His blood red eyes spotted Harry and Brego and he let out a cry of anger. "Northman!" he cried and leap towards them.
In a moment's panic Harry found his go mind blank as he tried to think of any spell at all that could be helpful. The dragon was almost upon him. Unbidden his wand raised and a spell forced itself from his lips, "Sectumsempra!"
Scatha screamed in agony once more and thrashed on the floor. Taking advantage of the situation Harry headed towards the tunnels. He collapsed two with a reductor curse before passing into the third and collapsing it behind him.
He continued on, as fast as he could, and finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped out into the moonlight. Before him lay a wide open countryside of hills, glens and valleys covered in a layer of snow.
Harry paused for a moment and took a deep breath, relishing the fresh night air ad glad to put the dark caves behind him. But he had no time to enjoy this new free or to take in the view, his thoughts were only on getting as away as possible before morning.
~ End Chapter Five ~
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