Harry Potter and the Elvish Magic

Harry Potter and the Elvish Magic

Chapter One: From 4 to 4 to 1504

Harry Potter woke up suddenly and glanced at his clock. "4:00," said the green, luminous numbers. Go back to sleep, Harry, he thought at himself furiously as he went towards his bedroom door. He knew that splashing himself on the face cold water from the bathroom wouldn't help to get him back to sleep at all. Still, he wasn't sure he really wanted to sleep after all. He was feeling a great sense of unease, which he was sure was what had woken him up. With a deranged murderer who was unfortunately also a very powerful wizard determined to kill him, who had recently arisen from a state between life and death to become alive (Harry didn't think he was truly alive, but merely more alive than he had been before he arose), Harry wanted all his wits about him. Which you won't have, Harry, if you don't sleep, the more rational side of his mind argued as he made his way back to his bedroom.

Harry was also a wizard, who had completed his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry only two days ago. Already Harry missed his best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Ron and Harry had been the best of friends since they first met on the Hogwarts Express during their first year. Without Ron, Harry felt as if part of himself was missing. He was very grateful to the Weasleys for allowing him to stay with them for part of the previous summer (they'd taken him to the World Cup for Quidditch, a sport played on broom which Harry was very good at). Harry knew that Ron was a part of him because he was his best friend.

Harry missed his other best friend, Hermione Granger, just as much, but in a different way. Although Hermione had been his best friend for years, he was starting to develop different feelings for her. Harry dreamed that Hermione would one day be his ... well ... girlfriend, although he'd never admit it to anyone else. At the train station two days ago, she had kissed him on the cheek in farewell, and it had been a moment of incredible ecstasy for Harry, although he didn't show it. He had thought that it had seemed like she had maybe even meant the kiss to be a symbol of something deeper than the love that they had had for each other previously, but he had no idea. Still, he had no idea of what her true feelings were, and he would never ask her.

At times, Harry wanted to distance himself from his friends, because he knew that when they were close to him, they would also be in danger from Lord Voldemort. Voldemort, the wizard who had killed his parents, had already tried to kill Harry four times, in various forms. The first attempt, the failure of which resulted in Voldemort's first downfall, was also the source of Harry's great fame, which he loathed.

Still, Harry would think back to all he and his friends had been through together, and then he couldn't bear to distance himself from them. He felt guilty about this, but resolved to do whatever he could to protect his friends from harm. Harry's thoughts about his friends ended abruptly when he opened the door to his bedroom and found an owl waiting for him. It was not his own Hedwig, but rather a black owl, which despite its colour, looked quite friendly. Harry picked up the note it had dropped on his lap, for that was how wizards normally sent mail, by owl.

"Harry," he read, recognizing Hermione's neat handwriting,

"I hope you like Hecate, my new owl. Mum and Dad got her for me in celebration for my becoming a Prefect. Dumbledore told me to tell you that you and Ron are Prefects too! Think of all the fun we'll have! Anyway, Dumbledore said to tell you that he's going to pick you up, and pick me up too, so you should get packed. You see, Voldemort's on the move again, and Dumbledore is aware that he has just discovered how he could undermine the ancient magic protecting you at Privet Drive. According to Dumbledore, as long as you and the Dursleys are there, it is impossible for Voldemort to touch you. However, he can kill the Dursleys. He could then immediately kill you as well. However, when you're not there, he can't get at the Dursleys because the ancient magic would protect only them and therefore be too strong for any wizard, including Voldemort, to break." Harry immediately felt guilty upon hearing this. Apparently, not only was he not fully protected at Privet Drive, but he was bringing the Dursleys into danger as well. The Dursleys, the owners and principal tenants of Number Four, Privet Drive, were Harry's only living relatives. They were very mean to Harry, and cared very little for him. They also harboured an intense phobia for his "abnormality", which was what they called his magical abilities. Even though he hated them (though not nearly as much as they him), he felt guilty about bringing them into danger. After all, they were human beings. Harry was determined to get away from them as soon as he could, and stop bringing them into danger. He continued reading Hermione's letter.

"Because my parents are Muggles, I'm not safe either. That's why I'm getting picked up too, so that Voldemort won't come after me. Ron is perfectly safe with so many powerful wizards around him, and the ancient wards surrounding the Burrow (it used to be a castle, Mr. Weasley told me) are nearly as powerful as those around Hogwarts itself. My parents will be protected, but for some reason Dumbledore doesn't want me to be with them. He usually knows best, so I'll go along with what he says." Harry snorted. He couldn't imagine Hermione ever disobeying a teacher. Of course, there was the time she, Ron and Harry had attacked Professor Snape, but Snape had provoked her, and she had been very afraid that she would get in trouble afterwards.

"Hecate is a very fast owl, nearly as fast as Hedwig, you know, and since we don't live that far apart, I think that this letter should reach around 4:00 in the morning (it's a half-hour before midnight right now). Anyway, I'm really sorry that she's waking you up (How wrong you are, Hermione, thought Harry humourlessly.) She'll wait with you until we arrive, then you should tell her and Hedwig to fly off to Hogwarts together. We'll be picking you up at five, then driving to the London airport to catch a plane to Glasgow (Voldemort could detect it if we Apparated) and then we'll make out way to Hogwarts. Because we'll have to walk quite a ways, and the plane will actually fly to Berlin first, where we'll catch another flight to Glasgow (the things we do to avoid detection!), we won't get to Hogwarts until teatime. Then Dumbledore will put us into hiding for the rest of the summer (he's also my parents' Secret-Keeper; they're using a special Fidelius Charm that only works against Dark Wizards so they can keep up their practice)." Harry remembered that Hermione's parents were dentists.

"Start packing now! Leave a note for the Dursleys, and we'll see you in about an hour after this reaches you, so don't waste time. You're allowed to use magic to magically enlarge the inside of your trunk and then shrink it, but don't do anything else (the spell Dumbledore put up will only mask those types of magic).

See you soon,

Hermione."

When he looked back on this day later, Harry was certain that Hermione had put a Rushing Charm on the letter, because he moved at an extraordinarily rate picking up things from his bookshelf and putting them in his trunk, which was fortunately not unpacked yet, as he'd only been at the Dursley's for a short while. He used a few spells to expand the inside so everything would fit. He got dressed as well, putting his pyjamas into his trunk. When he was done, the green numbers on his clock said 4:50. Realizing that he didn't have much time, Harry quickly took out a quill and piece of parchment, and scribbled a quick note.

"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley," he wrote,

"I am leaving for the rest of the summer. Thank you for taking care of me for these few days we've had together. I will see you again next summer.

Sincerely yours,

Harry Potter"

Harry snorted as he read over what he'd written. His aunt and uncle hadn't really taken care of him at all, they'd simply ignored him. Still, it paid to be polite, besides being the right thing to do. Leaving the note on his bed where they'd find it when they finally came looking for him, he shrunk his trunk down to the size of a thimble, and putting his wand and his trunk into his pocket, he tiptoed downstairs, putting his shoes on his feet and lacing them up more tightly than normal. His hands trembled slightly with excitement. He was finally getting away for the summer, to a place he knew not where.

Finally, a car pulled up in front of the driveway. Harry had already sent off Hedwig and Hecate, so he had nothing else left to do. Hermione and a woman, who judging by how similar they looked, was her mother, got out and began walking towards them. Harry quietly slipped out the front door and drew near them.

"Hello, Harry, dear," Hermione's mother said. She sounded remarkably like Mrs. Weasley. She looked nothing like her, however. While Mrs. Weasley was short and plump, Dr. Granger was tall and slender. Hermione had begun to shoot up in height over the school year, and her figure had become much like that of a grown woman. Harry himself had grown rapidly; he used to be the same height as Hermione, but now he was much taller than she was, the top of her head being level with his chin.

"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Granger," Harry said politely, holding out his hand. She shook firmly, smiling.

"Hermione said you were such a nice young man. And she was right!" she said excitedly. She led them to the car, which Harry noticed appeared to be equipped with a rather large engine. Well, he thought, I suppose it's useful for quick getaways. Dr. Granger (both Hermione's parents were dentists, Harry tried hard not to get them mixed up), a tall, handsome man, nodded at Harry as they got into the car. They drove off rapidly almost before Hermione, her mother and Harry had their seatbelts fastened. Harry knew he would never forget this ride, fearful of Dark Wizards trying to capture them, moving through the streets of England in the dark of morning (it was very cloudy), the beams of the headlights moving rapidly past the well- trimmed lawns of Privet Drive.

Half an hour later, they had reached the London airport. Harry suspected that Dumbledore might have put a charm on the car to prevent anyone from noticing that they were speeding. Hermione's mother looked rather flustered. She handed them each a pair of tickets from her purse.

"Now, remember this," she said. "You give these tickets to the people in this airport. You do not show them the tickets from Berlin to Glasgow. The people in this airport must not know what your actual destination is, in case they're interrogated by those people... what were they called again, Hermione?"

"Death Eaters," she said, shivering slightly. Her mother drew her into a tight embrace, tears running down her face.

"I love you, Hermy, dear", she sobbed.

"Yes, I love you too, Mum," Hermione said, trying to impress upon her mother the urgency of their schedule while not hurting her feelings. Then, to Harry's mortification, Hermione's mother did the same to him. Hermione's father clapped a hand on both their shoulders and said, "Good luck. Professor Dumbledore will be waiting for you at Glasgow. Stay close together." Quietly they got out of the car, Harry said, "Thanks very much for picking me up," and they walked towards the airport.

"Dumbledore put a concealing charm on both of us," Hermione muttered. "So we're not recognized. We'll look just as we are, but everyone else will see us differently." They walked up to the desk.

"Good morning," said the clerk. "How may I help you?"

"How do we get to gate number 4, please?" asked Hermione politely.

"It's that way," the clerk said, smiling and entering their tickets into her computer terminal. "Follow those signs." She handed them their boarding passes. Harry and Hermione walked through the airport to the sign which said "Gate 4". Harry led Hermione to the boarding line, because it had just been announced "Now boarding rows 10 through 15" and they were in row 14. Once they located their seats, they sat down, and both fell asleep. They slept through the takeoff and through most of the flight, and they awoke only when the plane began to descend through a thunderstorm to Berlin. Harry thought that it was insane that they were landing in such conditions, and watched with considerable trepidation the video screen on the back of the seat in front of him, which said "Ground speed: 322 km/h". That was slightly less than the maximum speed of his Firebolt, which was widely considered to be the best brand of broom in the world. His broom could only go this fast after speeding up for over twenty seconds. Still, it was much faster in proportion to its size than this plane was. Harry felt and heard a slight bump as they touched the ground, and felt himself pushed against his seatbelt, and heard a roaring sound as the plane slowed down.

Soon they had taxied into the Berlin airport and were connected to the airport. Harry looked around with some trepidation as everyone around them began speaking German. Harry didn't know a word of German, although he'd always secretly longed to learn it. Hermione led him through the airport, and they finally reached a desk at the other end, making sure that the woman behind the desk didn't see that they hadn't come in from the main entrance. He hoped that the woman wouldn't realize that they had just come from Britain, even thought they couldn't hide their accents. Harry wondered how odd it would look if they had come in from the main entrance and didn't speak German. Hermione walked right up to the desk.

"Entschuldigen Sie mich, bitte," she said. Harry managed to keep his jaw from dropping. Hermione spoke German? He fought to keep his face straight.

"Guten Morgen!" the woman said. Harry knew enough to realize that this meant "Good morning." Discretely he checked his watch and saw that it was still only 8:00 in Britain. "Darf ich Sie helfen?" the woman continued, Harry not being able to distinguish the separate words.

"Wie kommen wir am besten nach Tor Nummer vierundvierzig, bitte?" Hermione continued, handing the woman their tickets. The woman entered them into her computer terminal, saying "Sie gehen nach rechts und dann gehen Sie geraudeaus bis zur Zeichen die heißt 'Tor 44'".

"Danke schön," Hermione said, taking their boarding passes. She led Harry off to the right, and then they went straight.

"I didn't know you spoke German, Hermione," Harry said in amazement, keeping his voice down carefully.

"I was very interested in languages before I came to Hogwarts," she said. "I speak German, French, Latin, Welsh, Manx, Cornish, Breton and Gaelic. That's why I took Ancient Runes."

"Manx happens to be extinct," Harry said. Hermione snorted.

"Hardly!" she said. "We have records of how it's spoken, and I speak it, so it's not extinct."

"I suppose you'd say the same thing if I reminded you that Cornish is extinct as well?" he asked her. She batted him playfully on the arm, before saying, "Look! Here's gate 44." Harry noted that there was very little time for them to get from one plane to another. He suspected that when Dumbledore had arranged for their flights, he had arranged for them to spend as little time in the airports as possible. Harry and Hermione walked under the sign which said "Tor 44", Hermione doing all the talking to the airport staff. Soon they were on the plane, which soon took off. Harry was starting to quite enjoy taking off on planes. He liked being detached from the rest of the world like this. If only they could go flying on and on and never come down... No, the logical side of his brain argued, the plane'd run out of fuel if Voldemort didn't make it crash somehow first. Harry realized suddenly the weight of responsibility that was thrust upon him, and thought that it wasn't fair that not only was he expected to defeat Lord Voldemort, but he didn't even have any parents, and his godfather had been unjustly imprisoned for 12 years, and was even now still a fugitive.

Harry noticed that his fists were clenched, his body tensed. Grateful that his facial expression had betrayed nothing, he slowly relaxed his body. He was lucky, in a way, too. He had the Weasleys and the Grangers who cared about him. He had man friends. He had a godfather who he could communicate with regularly, even if he couldn't always meet with him. He had much power, and he went to what was widely considered to be the best school of magic in the world. From whom much is given, much is expected, he reminded himself. All the discord in the magical world, all the wrongdoings... It was all from Voldemort, one very brilliant student, who fell to the lure of evil. Harry felt a sudden rush of pity for him, and resolved, that even if it cost him his life, he would defeat Voldemort. He realized that Tom Riddle had died long ago, and in his place, there remained only a shell of what had once been a human being.

Harry felt the last traces of tension leave him, and he felt more at peace than he had been ever since he got home from school. As the plane roared over the countryside, his head leaned back against the pillow, and, after checking to see that there was no one behind him, he leaned back and slept.

He was running through a dark passageway, looking all around him frantically, for what he knew not. He stood still for a moment, reluctantly admitting the dank air into his lungs, feeling an indescribable sense of fear. Suddenly, he whirled around, and saw himself in a graveyard, looking on as Voldemort ordered Wormtail to kill Cedric. Harry watched in horror as the ghost of Cedric rose up before him. He'd seen this in his dreams before, and Cedric had always blamed him, using, for some reason, Harry's own voice when he spoke, blaming Harry. Cedric looked at him, and opened his mouth.

"Harry," he said, and to Harry's amazement he used his normal voice, "you have not allowed me to speak to you before. You have always put your own words into my mouth. You are not to blame for my death, and I charge you not to blame yourself for it." Harry was puzzled. He'd always known that Cedric was smart, but this seemed to be a level of speaking that he usually didn't use. When had Cedric become so formal? Suddenly Cedric smiled.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he said. "I merely wished to tell you not to dwell constantly on my death. You truly had no part in it." There was a great rush of light, and Harry noticed that the graveyard, along with Voldemort and Wormtail, had disappeared while they were speaking.

While he had been sleeping, Harry's body had tensed up again. As he woke up, he felt the tension leave him slowly, to be replaced with a feeling of wellness. Harry slowly realized how no one had actually blamed him for Cedric's death, and realized that, maybe, after all, he wasn't to blame. Harry decided to go with the opinion of the general public for once and not blame himself for Cedric's death. He had come to like Cedric over the last school year, even though at one point he had been furious at him for asking Cho to the ball. At the time, he was incapable of being angry at Cho, because of the way he felt about her. Now, however, his feelings for her had diminished to the point of vague affection, to be replaced with much stronger feeling about Hermione which grew much more powerful every day.

The plane flew lower and lower, finally landing at the airport in Glasgow. Harry was impatient as people blocked the aisles, getting things out of the luggage compartments. He breathed a sigh of relief as they were finally able to walk out of the plane. They saw Professor Dumbledore almost at once; he was waiting for them close to the gate, none of the usual twinkle in his eyes. Harry noticed that although his hair and beard were long as ever, and he was wearing wizard's robes, none of the Muggles were giving him odd looks. He strongly suspected that Dumbledore was using a more specific form of the general Concealing Charm.

"Come with me," he urgently, and they hurried along, each having a hand held tightly by one of his gnarled ones. He led them towards a sign which had a simple picture of a man on one side of a line, and a woman on the other, with two arrows pointing in opposite directions. The entrances both restrooms were concealed behind a wall. Dumbledore led them into the walkway in front of the doors, and, making sure the no one was watching them, did what Harry assumed was Apparating. There was a sudden jerk, much like a Portkey, and suddenly they were on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Harry resolved that he would learn to Apparate, because there was none of the whirling sensation of Floo powder or the feeling like he was going through a thunderstorm when he took a Portkey. Apparation was peaceful, merely having the world undulate from one scene to another.

Harry was cut short in his musings, however, because Dumbledore hastened them on by the outskirts of Hogsmeade, keeping them within edge of the Forbidden Forest, which came close to Hogsmeade.

"It is best," Dumbledore explained, "if we are not seen. That way, any informants which Voldemort has in Hogsmeade (and I shudder to think that he ever well) will not be able to tell him anything."

"Are there any spies in Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked, clearly indignant that her favourite village should be penetrated.

"To the best of my and the teachers' knowledge, no," said Dumbledore firmly. Harry was glad of his long legs; Hermione was struggling to keep up with them. Dumbledore refused to let them slow down at all. "I would trust all of the inhabitants of Hogsmeade with my life," he continued. "But I am sure that Voldemort will at least try to get information out of someone. It would be far too valuable an opportunity for him to waste." Harry thought grimly of the kind villagers, and resolved to do whatever he could to protect them. By now they were at the front doors of Hogwarts, Harry suspecting that Dumbledore had used the Marauder's Map, which he'd taken from Barty Crouch, Jr. a month ago, to find a shortcut. Dumbledore raised a hand, and the doors swung open partway. They walked through, Harry finding the cool, dark stone corridors a relief from the blazing sun outside.

He and Hermione followed Dumbledore up through the corridors until they reached a passageway which contained several windows and an extremely large, incongruous, gargoyle. "Candy cane," Dumbledore said, and the gargoyle sprang into life and aside for them to pass through into the passageway behind it and up into a revolving wooden staircase. Dumbledore led them up it, Harry watching the stone walls of the tower, noticing, for the first time, the pictures which adorned them. They were very skilfully done, all of them moving and joking with Dumbledore as he passed. Some of them spoke to Harry and Hermione as well.

"A Parselmouth, eh?" said a particularly detailed picture of Saint Patrick standing next to the sea with a drum. "I'll banish ye too along with the rest of 'em!" He spoke with a particularly strong Irish accent. Harry was surprised, because Saint Patrick wasn't originally from Ireland. He wondered how the portrait had known that he was a Parselmouth.

"Professor," Hermione asked. "Who painted these?"

"I did!" said Dumbledore cheerfully. Harry had often wondered what Dumbledore had done in his free time. He had known that Dumbledore had liked chamber music and ten-pin bowling, according to his Chocolate Frog card, but Harry wasn't surprised that Dumbledore painted as well. He could clearly see where the portraits got their sense of humour. The usual twinkle was back in Dumbledore's eyes as he ushered them into chairs in front of his desk. When he spoke, however, his voice was grave.

"As you are both aware, Hermione from what I told her and you, Harry, what I presume that she put in her letter, despite my instructions to the contrary," Hermione blushed furiously at this point, "Lord Voldemort has discovered a way that he can kill the Dursleys and bypass the ancient magic I invoked upon you and the Dursleys fourteen years ago. You see, Harry, it used to be that although there were many spells that could be used to kill someone, the only one specifically designed to kill was the Avada Kedavra curse. However, Lord Voldemort has designed a new incantation which can kill anyone who is the base of strong magic. This includes Secret Keepers, Wardens of Wards (I myself am the one for Hogwarts), and, of course, the bases of blood bonds. A base, Harry, in magic, is someone who does not generate magic by themselves, but by their very being, maintain magic which is intertwined with their existence. Vernon, Petunia and Dudley are all intertwined with a magic so ancient its name is not even remembered. Voldemort has discovered a way with which he can pull the bonds of magic to himself instead of you, and then invoke his new curse. Now that the Dursleys are by themselves, the magic is in all of them, and because it simply stays at its source, it cannot be affected by any magic which Voldemort has developed. We well, of course, take any further steps necessary to protect the Dursleys if Voldemort should develop another way to get at them." Harry had a strong suspicion that Dumbledore's source of information was Professor Snape. What had Dumbledore said to him last year? It was something like "Severus... you know what I must ask you to do." Snape had then gone out of the room rapidly, with a grey expression on his face.

"Please protect them," said Harry. Despite how badly the Dursleys had treated him, they were his only living relatives, and he felt duty bound to protect them. Dumbledore smiled at him.

"Professor," Harry continued, "what about the Weasleys? Couldn't Voldemort kill the base of their wards too?"

"It is impossible for him to do that at this time, because the wards around the Burrow are fundamentally different from those here at Hogwarts. They are based, in a way, upon themselves, and they are by far the strongest of their type in the entire world. The Weasleys will be perfectly safe, and if their safety should be compromised, I shall of course do whatever is in my power to protect them as well."

"Of course," he said, "that leaves us with the question, where to put the two of you for the summer. I was planning on having the two of you stay at Hogwarts, but Voldemort has ways of sensing who his Death Eaters have had contact with. Voldemort will suspect Severus if he does not return here, but if he comes into the building while you are here, he will find out. Fortunately, Voldemort is unable to determine exactly what his Death Eaters are doing. Otherwise, it would be next to impossible for Severus to confide in me."

"I'm sorry we're so much trouble, Professor," Harry said quietly.

"Oh, don't bother about that, Harry," said Dumbledore cheerily. "It's Voldemort who's being a problem. I'm sure you'll be happy to know that I've found a place for you to stay over the summer."

"What sort of place is it where he'll never find us?" Hermione asked.

"Not where he'll never find you," Dumbledore said mysteriously. "When he'll never find you." They stared at him, flabbergasted. Dumbledore reached down, and took a Time Turner out his desk.

"Listen carefully," he said. 'This is the only way you have any chance to live through the summer and still allow us to spy on Voldemort. However, I will not force you to do this. You will do it voluntarily if you do it at all. Will you do this?"

"Yes," they both answered at once.

"As brave as Godric Gryffindor," Dumbledore murmured, then stood up. "You don't need to worry about changing the timelines because it's something that you've already done. However, do not travel at all in time when you're there, or we may never get you back.

You will be taking the place of a certain Italian lord and lady who died when they were lost in the forest. There is a spell on you which will make you appear to the other Italians as the lord and lady, and when you speak, they will hear what you say in Italian, and you will hear what they say in English. The bones of the people you're replacing were uncovered only recently and magically identified. I have blocked any attempts other than yours to travel to that particular year in time, and sent many spells back in time to eliminate any modern magic on the day which you arrived. Because there were none, I am sure that Voldemort is unaware that you ever were in Italy."

"But we weren't," said Harry uncomfortably.

"You haven't travelled there yet," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "But you're going now, to Verona, in 1504. I do believe that you'll find yourself in the marketplace. You should have an instinctive knowledge of which horses are yours. You see, the lord and lady decided to leave their horses in Verona and travel by foot into the wilderness. They had eaten contaminated food which made them both insane.

But, I digress. When you reach the marketplace, take your horses and ride to your villa in the countryside, which you should have an instinctive knowledge of how to get to. When you're there, stay there for two months, then I will bring you back two months from now. Keep yourselves safe, stay near the villa, and try not to use too much magic. There's not much you can do about that, however, because it already happened. Also, although you have your trunks, to avoid suspicion, you must wear the clothes of the lord and lady. They were of about the same size as you, so they should fit. Are you ready?"

"Yes," they said.

"Goodbye!" said Dumbledore cheerily. "Have a good time!"

"Goodbye," Harry said as Dumbledore waved his wand. A gold dust flew out of the Time Turner and enveloped them. Like the time that Harry and Hermione travelled back in time during their third year, there was a sensation of flying backwards very rapidly. However, there was also a roaring sound, much like the sound Harry had heard when the plane had slowed down on the runway in Berlin. Harry couldn't discern exactly where the sound was coming from, but it seemed to be from behind them, and coming closer and closer. Finally, it was all around them, although their surroundings were still black. Suddenly, there was a jerk, and Harry and Hermione landed in... a dusty street with a hot sun shining down upon them?

So this is Verona in 1504, Harry thought. He led Hermione over to a few horses tethered outside a building. He felt very uncomfortable in the clothes he was now wearing. He had on an ornate, extremely tight vest, a white shirt with billowing sleeves, a codpiece (which he felt extremely self-conscious about), tights which were sewn from different-coloured pieces of fabric, and tall leather boots. He could see by how loose the tights were how thin his legs were, and resolved to get some exercise while they were in the past. Hermione was wearing a gown which was extremely tight about the waist, and looked very hard to walk in. She also had a simple bonnet on her head. Harry led Hermione over to the horses which he somehow knew were theirs. He helped her up onto a white horse and handed her the reins, then he mounted a black horse awkwardly. They're white and black, like Hedwig and Hecate, he thought with an internal shiver. He hoped he was imagining the strange glances other people in the street were giving them. Harry and Hermione rode out of town at a pace that seemed far too slow to Harry. Still, to avoid suspicion, they didn't go any faster.

Out in the country it was easier, because there were few people. Harry enjoyed the cool feeling of air moving past his ears. Hermione looked as if she was enjoying the ride too, although she didn't look happy about having to ride side-saddle. Harry was glad that they would be able to go riding while they were in Italy, although they would need to stay near their villa.

***

About two hours later, although it seemed like days to Harry, they finally reached the villa. Hermione gave a small cry of delight when they saw it, and even Harry had to admit that it looked nice. Set far back from the small track the road had become, it was on a small rise next to a stream which flowed out of the forest. There was a stable not far from it, and the forest began a few hundred meters from it. The horses sped up a bit at the sight of home. Harry wondered how they didn't realize that he and Hermione were not their real owners. Then he realized that Dumbledore had probably thought of a spell to work around this. The horses stopped outside the stable, and Harry dismounted, a sword he had somehow not noticed before bumping against his aching legs. He helped Hermione dismount, then they led the horses back into the stable. Hermione, who had taken riding lessons in youth, showed Harry how to rub the horses down and give them food and water in their stalls. Then they closed the door of the stable (Harry noted that the walls were very, very thick), and went over to the house.

The door of the house swung open readily as they pushed it. Harry noticed that the villa's walls were very thick as well, and he surmised that this was for defence against vandals. The door was also very heavy, and several bars were ready to be lowered down and lock it. Harry looked around him. They seemed to be in a large, cool, light room, which had several windows with heavy shutters. There were several wooden chairs scattered around the room. Hermione opened a door on the opposite side of the room and gave a squeal of delight. Harry came over to look.

There was a courtyard in the middle of the villa which was dominated by a large vegetable garden and several fruit and nut trees. Several bees buzzed around, and Hermione pointed out a hive in one of the trees.

"We'll have to be careful about not leaving anything they'd like out for them to get at," she said. Harry was glad that, unlike Dudley, he wasn't afraid of bees. He had derived great amusement in youth from watching Dudley run as fast as his great bulk would let him, while a few bees had buzzed around, not even coming near him. They had even seemed to be frightened by his antics.

Hermione dominated the rest of the search of the villa. They next came upon a kitchen. Harry looked around it, wondering how they would be able to cook. There was a huge fireplace (Harry now realized what the stack of wood next to the villa was for) in the centre of one wall. There was huge wooden table in the centre of the table, flanked by two long benches. Harry surmised that the table doubled as both a food preparation and consumption surface. A few large pots and kettles were hung in one corner, and preserved meat and cheese hung from the ceiling. There were also a few dangerous-looking knives set next to some wooden plates. Hermione looked around at the kitchen, which was fortunately clean, and said "I'll scrub it down before we make anything," she said, thankfully noting a bar of soap and a bucket, next to a few rags.

Harry noted a small staircase on one wall, but he had no time to wonder where it led to as Hermione hastened him into the last room, which was small and rather dark. It took Harry a few moments to notice that it was an armoury. Swords, daggers, spears, crossbows and quivers of bolts covered the walls, and a large suit of armour stood in each corner, along with battle gear for a horse. Every single weapon looked well-made and was very richly adorned with jewels, or intricate engraving. Harry unbuckled the sword from his side and hung it on the only empty peg.

"The people who owned this house must have been great collectors of arms," Hermione said.

"The lord, more likely, than the lady," Harry pointed out. Hermione bristled.

"Ridiculous gender roles!" she muttered, then rolled her eyes. "Well," she continued, "in England we'd be having tea right about now, but I think that it would be a good idea if we were to start making dinner now, considering how long it's bound to take us, in this primitive place. I'll deal with the kitchen, and you can get the food for us."

"Alright," said Harry, "but there's probably not enough growing in the courtyard to last us all summer."

"Really, Harry," Hermione said impatiently. "You don't just eat the stuff that you already have. You go hunting." Harry looked at her queasily. Chuckling, she buckled a dagger and belt around his waist, and strapped a crossbow and quiver of bolts at his back. She guided him out the door, and nudged him slightly. Subconsciously, he started walking towards the forest, drawing out his crossbow, loading a bolt, and turning the crank as he did so. He was resigned to doing this now, but that didn't mean that he wanted to do it.

Suddenly, two quail burst out of the grass at his feet and prepared to take off. By luck more than anything else, he pulled the trigger, and the bolt passed through both of their necks, killing them instantly. His thoughts were brought back to earth abruptly as he bent down and picked them up. He had killed something. For the first time in his life, he had killed something. Certainly his immune system had killed off invading bacteria before, but he had never raised a hand against something visible to the naked eye. He was grateful that they had been killed instantly, and that they weren't sentient. He picked up the arrow and withdrew it from the quail, then he awkwardly picked them up and carried them back to the villa, making sure to avoid the blood dripping down from their necks.

Hermione was surprised to see him back so soon, but she took the quail from him and bustled around the kitchen. He tried to help her for a while, especially when she started using the knives, but she was more than competent in the kitchen, and eventually said, "Harry, make yourself useful instead of dangerous and see where that staircase leads to." Harry went up the narrow staircase he'd noticed before, and exclaimed slightly with delight despite himself. He was standing in a large, airy, comfortable bedroom, which had several windows and a huge bed with silk sheets and thin fabric hung all around it to serve as a screen against the bugs. Harry noticed their trunks were resting, fully sized, on top of the bed. Still, that was the problem. There was only one bed. He half-heartedly looked through the cupboards in the room, finding wonderful clothes (and all the male ones were ridiculously tight, to his disgust), but nothing else except for some parchment and a few quills, surprising unlike the ones used by modern wizards and witches.

Well, he thought, wizards must develop new technology, just like Muggles. He realized that unless one of them wanted to sleep on the floor, they have to sleep in the same bed. Fortunately, the bed was large, so they wouldn't have to sleep right next to one another. Harry rapidly suppressed the thoughts that came to mind at this, but he couldn't help but feel slightly excited, to be so close to the young woman he loved. He was careful to not betray anything in his expression, however, when he came down the stairs, being careful not to bump his head on the ceiling.

"It's a bedroom," Harry said, "and it's a really nice one, except for there's only one bed." Hermione sighed, then led him to the table. He looked at it in astonishment. She had somehow managed to produce a meal that even Aunt Petunia, possibly the most fastidious women in the world when it came to food, would be proud of. Harry had no idea that what he was eating was the quail he had shot, and decided that it wasn't so bad, living in 1504, after all.

"Harry," said Hermione, "I'd like to ask you a favour."

"What is it?" he asked.

"I've always wanted to see someone wear a suit of armour," she said. "And since we're here, have nothing else to do, and those suits of armour just might fit you (after all, both you and that person who owned them are almost two meters tall), I'd like it if we could have you try one on." Harry looked at her for a moment, thinking that she was going crazy, but then he decided that it might be fun.

"All right," he said. "I'll do it." Hermione had already brought in some water and heated it somewhat over the fire, so it was fairly easy for her and Harry to clean up the dishes. Two dogs came up whom Harry guessed were watchdogs, so Hermione threw the leftover quail to them, and they devoured it hungrily. Then Hermione led Harry into the armoury.

Putting on one of the suits of armour was a complicated affair. First, Harry had to put on a leather jerkin and a pair of leather tights (Why did they were these ridiculous tights, he asked himself). Then, Hermione helped him put some heavy chain mail. Harry was glad of the leather clothing, even though he was slightly embarrassed that Hermione saw him in it, because the chain mail was very heavy, and would have been extremely uncomfortable against his bare skin.

Then, Harry and Hermione struggled with the ridiculously heavy armour. Having no idea as to the order with the pieces were supposed to go on, they put the legpieces on first, and then the metal coverings which went over Harry's feet. The armour was attached which leather straps which fortunately seemed strong enough to hold it in place (Harry didn't want to think of the mess that could be caused by falling armour). Then, Harry lifted the chest and back coverings over his head, and put them on somewhat like he would have put on a shirt. Hermione helped him put on the arm coverings, and then the metal gloves (his hands now looked like strange and dreadful weapons with pointed metal fingers.) He was glad to find that he could still move his fingers quite freely. Then, Hermione lifted the helmet over his face, and he was in a suit of armour.

He noticed right away that it was very difficult to see out from the helmet, so he lifted the visor and smirked at her.

"How do I look?" he asked impishly. She had a strange expression on her face.

"I wish I had a camera," she said, beginning to grin. "That red plume clashes with your eyes beautifully."

"What red plume?" he asked. She danced away from him, giggling. He ran after her, realizing how hard it was to run in a suit of armour. She ran out of the armoury and through the kitchen. Finally, he caught up with her in the room they had first entered into.

"What red plume?" he asked furiously, picking her up so that she couldn't run away. Dreamily, she reached up and pulled down a long red plume which he hadn't noticed at the top of his helmet.

"This one," she said quietly. Harry felt a little embarrassed.

"Oh," he said, "Thank you." He moved to set her down, but she motioned for him to stop.

"Don't put me down," she said, her voice dreamy again.

"Why not?" he asked.

"My knight in shining armour," she said, and reached up to lift his visor, which had fallen down while he'd been running. Then she sat up in his arms, which he adjusted so as not to drop her. Her mouth met his, and a thousand sensations he'd never felt before rushed through him. He suddenly realized that they did love each other, and both had known it ever since they'd met. He only wondered why neither had said anything before. Then he realized that their feelings had only grown stronger over their fourth year at Hogwarts, and that it had been hard for them to be noticed among the rush of the Triwizard Tournament. Her lips never left his as her smooth hands moved over his armour, and his clad-clad ones moved gently around her, as much as they could without sending her crashing to the floor. He finally set her down, and they walked back into the kitchen, the knight and his lady.