Heirs of Middle Earth

Chapter 1

Belated Birthday

Another dreary day began at the Dursley's for Harry Potter. Within half an hour, he had heard all the usual complaints. He's too slow. He's too lazy. He's too selfish. He's too ignorant. He's too ungrateful. The disdainful rain clouds seemed to agree. Stuck inside the house, he was forced to do many extra chores to keep him "out of Petunia's way," which only furnished more criticism about Harry. Eventually, the house was so clean, that his aunt had nothing better to do than to send him away and to confine him to Dudley's second bedroom. The Dursleys had moved Dudley's things all into his room to make a space for Harry when he returned from his first year at Hogwarts, which was several years ago. It wasn't much of a space, but it was much better than the cupboard under the stairs. Hedwig was twittering in the corner, just as bored as Harry.

"I know it's not very entertaining to be in that cage all the time, but there's nothing I can do. You know I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school," he told the snowy owl. "If Uncle Vernon knows I've let you out, he'll be even more fearsome than a Hungarian Horntail."

Harry had tried for years to learn how to occupy himself with his few belongings, and was typically unsuccessful. Now that he had homework to do, he learned the art of procrastination. He had three weeks before school began, and the only essay he had even slightly thought about was the one for Transfiguration. He was afraid of the Potions essay, and knew the one for Professor Binns's class would cause only more boredom. He was relatively unconcerned about the others. His hope rested in help from Hermione. At least this year he was receiving their letters. Ron and Hermione both seemed to be having a wonderful vacation. They were able to spend a lot of time visiting one another, and he was happy for them. A part of him was jealous of them both. As they told him about their mini-adventures, his own idleness sank in.

As he began to contemplate what he could do to keep his mind from vacating his head, a bird began attacking the window with its beak. Harry jumped up to open the window before his uncle heard the racket and came to investigate. The owl was one he had never seen before, and was carrying a parcel for him. There was no return address or even a name, but the bird stared at Harry expectantly. He finished researching the parcel for the sender, then fed the owl some food from Hedwig's bowl before opening the window and letting it out. He opened the box, found a small scroll, and read it interestedly.

Happy Birthday, Harry. I apologize for the delay, but circumstances provided for nothing better. I hope you will enjoy this book. Just thought you might need it before too long.

Harry was, to say the least, intrigued. The handwriting looked strangely familiar, but he wasn't able to place it. Also in the box was a rather large book. He hadn't heard of the author before but it looked fairly interesting. The title was Lord of the Rings. The book was enormous. He thought this might be a gag gift from Hermione. She knew how he hated reading. He expected that she had gotten one of her parents to write the note. Whether madness or boredom persuaded him to open the massive book, he only needed something to do for the moment. He trudged through the pages, and fell asleep before finishing the first chapter.

~*~

"Welcome, sir. If I may be of any service, just call for me," the storekeeper said as the blond boy entered one of the less foreboding shops found down Knockturn Alley. Angmar: Vestiges of the Witch-king, it was called. This newly founded shop was the most well kept pawnshop in the area, but managed to scam many of the customers. Dark walls without windows would have called for many candles just to allow sight, but the shopkeeper was well acquainted with light spells.

"May I ask what you are looking for?" the storekeeper inquired. His fear of the boy's father was excessive, as was common, but the business he provided was most profitable. It was in his best wishes to please the boy.

"I am looking for a gift for my mother. It is nearly her birthday," the boy began with his usual condescending drawl, "but I don't think I'll find anything here worthy of such an occasion."

"We have some beautiful necklaces or some charming bracelets that might interest a woman of class," he offered. He led the boy to the back wall where the finer things were located. Sweeping his hand through the air, he proudly showed his finest inventory. He watched the boy sneering and wished he could reprimand the vile creature. Finally, he pointed to a necklace.

"What is that made of?"

"That, sir, is 14 karat silver with black opal in the center of each piece. It is a nice selection. The color would go well with your mother's hair," he said, gently pushing the item.

"Fourteen karats is a common man's jewelry. Is there nothing else I can see?"

"As a matter of fact, there is. Just yesterday, a boy around your age brought in a ring. I think you will be quite fond of it," he said as he slipped into the back room to bring out the ring he had mentioned. For safety reasons, he had put it in an enchanted safe shortly after receiving it, and it was quite difficult even for him to retrieve. Eventually it opened and he removed the ring. The perfection of it caused him to stare at it a bit more today, much like he had spent half the day yesterday. It looked smaller than it had been but it was still the same. White metal, though he didn't know what it was, and a red jewel in the center. It was simple and beautiful; he couldn't keep his eyes off it for some strange reason. Impatient stomping from the next room caused him to hesitantly return to the boy. "Quite nice, I tell you. I haven't the smallest idea what it's composed of, but I envy the next owner."

The boy stared at the ring as well, and grabbed it to look at it closer. The shopkeeper wanted to grab it back and keep it, but it was too late. He had gone and spilled the secret about the ring. His stupid mouth had given away another of his favorite items.

"I'll take this and the necklace," the boy said absently. They both slowly proceeded back to the front, where the money was stored. "How much?"

"30 Galleons for the necklace and 50 for the ring," he said attempting to discourage the boy from buying both. Not many people would have that much money on them, or even that much to spend on jewelry.

"Fine," was all the boy said as he counted out 80 Galleons and left the shop with the beautiful ring. As soon as he left the shop, he put the ring on his middle finger where it fit perfectly. The presence of the ring seemed to enlarge his already inflated aire of confidence. He felt taller as roamed the centre with his usual grace and a sense of power he hadn't felt before. Something surged through him, making him feel warmer than he had ever known he could be. Later, while he was heading home, he had the distinct feeling that something was following him. He shrugged off the feeling as he left Knockturn Alley behind.

~*~

Yet another completed scroll was tossed into the rather large pile assembling at the corner of Harry's desk. The Weasleys were supposed to be prepared for him to come in a few hours. Ron had sent him some floo powder for his birthday, which would come in handy. He could simply start the electric fire while the Dursleys were out for lunch and make a quick arrival around noon. Of course, he wasn't sure if floo powder would work with an electric fire, but there was no other way without breaking rules for underage wizards. Ron had said that his father was pretty sure it wouldn't matter what made the fire, as long as it was fire. He packed all of his things into his trunk and made sure to get as much of his homework done as possible. Living at the Weasley house would not allow him time to work on any of it. He only had five days until school started, at least one of which had to be reserved for shopping at Diagon Alley, and another day for packing everything they bought.

As soon as the Dursleys left the house, Harry slipped downstairs and deposited his note on the table. He knew that they wouldn't care where he was, because they would be angry regardless. The note's purpose was to keep Harry conscience clean when Mrs. Weasley asked if his family knew where he was.

I'm visiting with my friend Ron for the rest of summer vacation. I'll be back next year.

The note was simple and was all he needed to keep from lying to Mrs. Weasley. Harry hauled his trunk to the living room and began the fire. As soon as it was large enough, he grabbed his trunk in one hand and a bit of floo powder in the other.

"The Burrow," he hollered after he threw the powder into the fire and stepped into it. Then miraculously, the Burrow was where he landed, and happened to find the majority of the Weasley family staring at him. Ron approached him and clapped his shoulder.

"Right on time, Harry," he said. "Mum was getting worried that you might forget how to use floo powder, or end up somewhere else. You remember what happened last time."

"It's so good to see you, dear," Mrs. Weasley said as she rushed over to hug him, tactfully changing the subject. She drug him to the table and made him sit down in one of the chairs. The rest of the clan followed suit. "Lunch is just about ready. I hope you've had a nice summer so far. We haven't gone anywhere to speak of. Ginny is visiting one of her friends, but she should be back later tonight. Hopefully, she won't 'forget' to come home like she did after visiting my sister."

"How's Hermione been? I haven't gotten a letter from her for weeks," Harry asked Ron, trying not to stay on the subject of Ginny for too long. It was still difficult for him to be around her after their ordeal during his second year. He had often wondered exactly what Tom Riddle had done to her. She wasn't the same now. Harry was well aware that he didn't really know her well to begin with, but the change in her was significant enough for him to notice. Her appearance became darker and her eyes were colder. She now had an air of mysteriousness that alarmed Harry.

"She's fine. We shouldn't see her till school starts back. Off visiting family, again," Ron replied exasperatedly. "She's been doing that all summer. I wonder how much family she has left to visit."

As soon as the finished the meal, the boys ran upstairs to put away Harry's things while they caught up with one another. Ron told Harry all about the latest Quidditch games and elaborated on the Chudley Cannons, his favorite team. They discussed their homework, and Harry discovered that Ron had barely started his. Harry explained about the electric fire to Ron, who hadn't really heard of such a thing.

"Usually, muggles have either real fires with real firewood or they have gas fires, but Uncle Vernon is strange for a muggle. He picked out the electric fire more to show his superiority to 'people like me'. I don't understand what he's thinking, however, I do rather like the electric fire. It's much easier than trying to remember a spell."

"What's that?" Ron said pointing at the book Harry had received the other day.

"I don't know. I got it for my birthday, but I don't know who it's from. I didn't recognize the owl, and it wasn't from a post office owlery. I don't think it was from the school's, but it could be one I haven't seen before. I think it's really a rather boring book. Hermione was my first guess for who sent it, mainly because it seems like something she would read."

"Does she really expect you to read that, I wonder," he called aloud. "I suppose we shouldn't talk to her about it. She might figure out that you aren't reading it. Then she'll want to make you do it, you know."

"Yeah. If she did send it secretly, she probably doesn't want me to know that it's her."

"Exactly. We should put it away and go outside. Mum wants everyone to stay outside until she can get the house cleaned up a bit. If we don't get out of here, she'll stick us with some bloody chores. Just be glad she hasn't cornered us yet." Ron said as he leaned towards the door. He motioned for Harry to follow, and he hurried outside. Fred and George were flying around the yard chasing one another while swinging bats at each other's head. When they saw Ron and Harry walk outside, they stopped and waved to them.

"Hello, Harry. Why don't you and Ron come up here and fly around a bit with us?" Fred hollered down. At least, Harry thought it was Fred.

"We'll be right up," Ron yelled. Turning to Harry, he grinned and continued, "we'll have to stick you on one of our brooms though. Can't have you flying circles around us with your Firebolt, now can we?"

Harry grinned back and followed Ron to the shed around the side of the house. He took the battered broom that Ron handed him, and walked back to the front yard. He mounted the broom and kicked off. It was a rickety ride, and not much better than riding a school broom, but playing around with the Weasleys was worth the sacrifice. They chased one another around the house and practiced making dives. Harry was able to make the best dive, as was expected, but Fred and George were the fastest.

After playing around for just a little while, all of his longing for Hogwarts began multiplying until he almost couldn't breathe. I'm almost back home, he thought to himself. Just a few more days, and then I'll be home.

~*~

Shadows seemed to be everywhere, and the boy felt an emotion he was unaccustomed to, but Harry would immediately have recognized as fear. Something followed him and nighttime became dreadful. He scarcely left his room without having cast the lumos spell. The halls of his home that once felt so comforting seemed dark and gloomy even in broad daylight, so he was never without his wand. Ever since that day in Knockturn Alley, he had been the haunting suspicion that someone was after him. He found himself constantly thinking about the ring and his hands barely left it alone.

"This can hardly be safe," he heard himself say.

"Safe, master? There is no safe these days," a house-elf said after slamming the door to the armoire, startling the jumpy boy. He pondered these words, which were proved shortly thereafter. As dusk approached, a horrific scream startled him. He turned towards his window to see where the sound was coming from, only to see the Dark Mark facing his window. The ghastly green cloud flowed from a house in the small town just at the foot of the mountain where his home was. The boy was overpowered by his emotions, and staggered backwards. He dropped the ring in his fit and it clanged loudly on the hard floors, echoing harshly in the silent aftermath. The boy felt slain by terror and succumbed to the call of the ring, falling onto the floor in a similar manner. Instead of a clang, his body made a muffled thump, followed by a cracking noise from his skull.

He awoke from his trance-like state the next day and found himself in his bed. When he realized that the last thing he remembered was hitting the floor, he leapt out of his bed and frantically searched for the ring. After finding it on his desk, he dressed and hastily exited the room. His favorite hiding place next to his own room was the library, where he felt safe in the dark corner where he couldn't be seen. The shadows and arrangement of furniture in the room made him nearly invisible. He sat in the chair with his knees pulled up to his chest, rocking himself to quell his agonizing fear. As he neared sleep, he was jolted back from it when he heard the door open and his father enter with a guest.

The wicked-looking guest seemed to have an aura of excitement around him as he grinned evilly. The man was tall, and his face was scarred as well as worn by time. Though he was slightly large, the man hid it well with his thick, black overcoat. His hair was so dark that it looked as if there was absolutely nothing there, and space itself did not exist in the place where it should have been. His voice was more like the croak of an old frog, but deeper and more threatening. He stood even after the boy's father invited him to sit, and began talking.

"Master has heard some news of late that piqued his interest. He wishes nothing more than to have his faithful servants look into the truth behind these rumors. The word is that an antique ring has found its way back into the hands of both the English and Wizards. It is silver with a red stone, and seems plain to the ordinary eye, but it is said to possess a power greater than that of our master. Master has instructed me to deliver with this an offer. He will reward the wizard or witch that brings this prize to him with one thing that his or her heart most desires..."

The man kept talking, but the boy had forgotten to listen. He had gasped audibly when the man described the rewards. The ring that had been described was too similar to his own for it to be coincidence. Fate will work its course, the boy thought to himself. His ring had only come to him days before, and already proved that it was sought after.

"Leave this room, boy," his father said. The boy looked up to find his father standing over him with a candle in his hand. "Eavesdropping does not become our family, no matter what else may be said about us."

The boy nodded and hurried out of the room. He knew he could not keep this ring, but without his knowledge it had begun to work its strong magic on him. Giving it up would be no easy thing until it was ready to leave him. The boy was wise enough not to mention the ring to anyone, regardless of his suspicions about it. The Dark Lord wanted it and that was no small matter. Who knew what changes he would wreak on the world if he were to gain possession of it. His Malfoy selfishness also kept him from giving it to his father. This item belonged to him, and he would not give it to his father. Besides, if he wanted to join the Dark Lord's ranks one day, he would present this as a gift to the Dark Lord to make himself indispensable. After all his contemplation, he decided the ring had best stay with him until he found a safe place to keep it for the time being.

~*~

Harry tumbled out of bed when a loud explosion nearby woke him from a dream. The noise seemed to come from Fred and George's room, which was not surprising. Disregarding the noise as nothing, he rubbed his tired eyes and began searching for his glasses. Today, they went back to school, so everyone was already up to pack. Having left the Dursleys earlier that week, Harry already had his things packed up. He could hardly wait for school to start back. Breakfast was sitting on the table, and a wonderful breakfast aroma drew Harry to the table.

"Go ahead and eat, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said. She walked to the foot of the stairs to holler for the rest of the Weasleys to hurry downstairs. "Everyone else will be down soon, I hope."

The bright morning sun shone in the window strongly, blinding Harry as he ate. Mrs. Weasley plodded about the kitchen explaining how all her children were procrastinators in more detail than Harry wanted to hear. Some of the stories she told were quite funny, causing him to nearly choke on his food multiple times. Shortly after she began her fourth story, Mr. Weasley and Ginny came to the table. Mr. Weasley was already dressed for the day in his faded black robes. He clearly had not brushed his hair that morning, but since he usually wore a cap, no one would notice. Ginny wore a modest floral dress that Harry rather liked. He looked at her muttered a compliment to her, causing her to blush a deep red and a warm smile to spread across her face as she stared at the floor. Ron joined them soon with Fred and George following closely behind. The three of them had lugged their suitcases down the stairs so loudly as they came that they caused Mrs. Weasley to stop telling one of her stories about Percy so she could reprimand them. Harry hardly paid any attention to what anyone said because he was eager to depart. Time seems to have slowed, Harry thought gruffly.

"Well, this year we'll be going to the train station a bit differently," Mr. Weasley announced to the table. "In light of previous occurrences, the Ministry has sent us a portkey straight to the station. I have been told that Dumbledore himself requested that we use the portkey."

Fred and George both snickered and Ron's face brightened. Harry felt less gloomy, but he wondered at the motives of such an act. His previous experiences at Hogwarts had been enough to warn him. Harry did not know exactly what he needed to be protected from, nor did he even know if Voldemort was up to anything. As the Weasley family began gathering their things, he rose and followed suit, trying to forget about Voldemort, though he couldn't help but notice the ominous feelings of fear rekindling deep in his psyche.

A small poof-like sound in the next room attracted his attention as Arthur rose to greet the person that had Apparated. He led the man into the room where they were, and they noticed that he was apologizing profusely.

"I am so very sorry that I Apparated into your house, sir. It is not customary for us to do that. It was merely a mistake on my part."

"I understand. It is not a problem at all," Arthur said sympathetically.

"All right, children," Mrs. Weasley began. "Gather your suitcases together. This nice young man is going to take them to Platform 9 ¾ for us."

Harry and the Weasley children gathered their things together and loaded them onto a cart the boy had brought. As soon as everything was loaded onto it, He Apparated out of their living room. Most of them went back to the kitchen to help clean up breakfast, and Harry joined them. When all the chores in the kitchen were done, they scattered across the house. Ron led Harry upstairs to his room where they sat around talking. A shrill whistle blew half an hour later, causing Ron to stand.

"Come on, Harry. It's time to go," Ron said to him. All the Weasleys were standing around a box, on top of which sat an old, mangled book. The book was titled A Guide to Middle Earth, and the words struck a chord in Harry's mind. Apparently, this book was the portkey. Mrs. Weasley clasped Ginny's wrist and behind her back, Fred and George held hands and giggled like school girls. Grabbing Harry's sleeve, Ron explained, "Mum says we have to hold on to someone else in case we don't grab onto the portkey at the same time."

"On the count of three," Mr. Weasley began, "we will all grab the portkey. Ready? One... two...THREE!"

Each of the seven reached a hand towards the book and a sudden rushing sensation filled Harry as he felt like he had been flung by a giant and was still flying. He didn't dare open his eyes, but he felt Ron still clutching his sleeve. When they finally stopped, Harry opened his eyes to get his bearings, but was knocked into Ginny when Ron lost his balance. Ron had still been holding his sleeve, and forgot to let go.

"What now, Weasley?" a condescending voice crooned. Harry and Ron looked up to find Malfoy standing over them. "Could you not even afford muggle transportation this year?"

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry said as he jumped after Ron in order to keep him from attacking Draco. Fred and George glared at the blond and began whispering to one another.

"You had better put your dog on a leash, Potter," he said, waving his hand at Ron. "I would hate to find fleas on my new robes."

Harry noticed that his nemesis had grown taller and thinner. One could even call him gaunt. Ron and he had also grown and both were taller than Draco, but the evil blond still managed to look down at them. As Draco turned to leave, Hermione ran up to them and helped Harry by grabbing Ron's arm.

"What did he say this time?" she inquired, slightly exasperated.

"He made a money reference again," Harry muttered under his breath. Ron began to relax and shook his head. Harry and Hermione released him and they all grabbed their trunks.

"How did you get a portkey?" Hermione asked, trying to initiate some conversation.

"Dumbledore sent it to us," Ron informed her. His voice became more of a grumble and Harry noted that his friend's voice had changed drastically over the summer, and he wondered if his own had changed. He glanced over at Hermione, who seemed not to have grown an inch since he saw her last, but she did seem a little more mature somehow. It seemed like something had happened to her to change her, though he couldn't place it.

"Actually, Ron, the Ministry sent it. I was informed, however, that Dumbledore requested it," Mr. Weasley stated in a matter-of-factly tone. Mrs. Weasley noticed Hermione just then and walked towards her for a hug, squeezing the girl tightly.

"Oh, Hermione, look at how pretty you've gotten! Just look at that glow in your cheeks. I trust you've had a wonderful vacation."

"Thank you. Yes, ma'am, I have had a splendid time," she replied politely. A whistle in the background attracted the attentions of all present, and the students began boarding the train.

"Children, you better run along now. We can't have you all being late," Mrs. Weasley called. All of them said their goodbyes and waved before hustling on board. Ron, Harry and Hermione took a cabin to themselves as the other three Weasleys had gone off with friends. After a while of catching up, Harry and Ron started eating a bunch of treats they had purchased from the trolley and Hermione began reading a book.

"You read too much," Ron prodded her. "What is that for anyways? I've never heard of that guy before."

"Well, I hope you've at least heard of his father. Christopher is not nearly as famous as J.R.R.," she lectured.

"I don't think I do recall the name, actually," he replied, shaking his head at her.

"Harry will have heard of him, I believe. You have heard of Tolkien, haven't you Harry?"

"What would you say if I told you I hadn't?" he asked meekly. Apparently his was not a smart question, for she jumped up and began fuming at them lividly.

"I cannot believe you don't know Tolkien. He is only one of the most well-known muggle authors in the world. Have you really never The Hobbit or even The Lord of the Rings? He is an Englishman, you know. There are only an infinite number of literary references to his works. He is one of the greatest catalogers of wizarding legend to have graced the world with his presence."

"Well, one of those sounds familiar, but honestly, I've never been a big reader."

"Obviously. Have you two at least done your homework?" she complained.

"I was hoping I could borrow yours," Ron asked sheepishly.