Harry Potter and the Ring of Doom

They left the town before the day was very old, and after carefully making sure that no one had followed them, left the road. "There are Black Riders about, looking for Frodo. We do not want to stay on the Road."

The woods they passed through were quite pleasant, and the travel generally downhill. It was as they were taking a short break as the sun was at its highest that Harry said, "Hermione, you were going to talk to the five of us about something that disturbed you. Now seems as good a time as any."

"True. It'll give you three the time to get over the shock. I somehow get the feeling that Strider won't be overly surprised." She was wearing her cloak, and it was closed. She had began pacing back and forth as she spoke, which Harry found a little unusual for her. "Especially now that I see the route Strider is taking us, I expect that inns are not likely to be on the nightly stop lists, am I correct?" She looked to Aragorn for confirmation, who smiled and nodded. "At an inn, or in this Rivendell we're heading for, we can deal with separate rooms. Out here? Tents at best, and since we're in September or early October here, if I heard Strider right early this morning when we set out, we'll be wanting to double up occupancy on those, just to conserve and hold heat. Right again?" Strider nodded again, and was obviously trying hard not to chuckle. She flipped her cloak back over her shoulders and said, then get used to seeing this!" The 'this' she referred to was her brassiere-covered chest, Hermione having opened her blouse as she paced. The stunned looks on the boys faces caused Strider to lose the battle to not laugh, although he did manage to keep it to a chuckle. "We don't have the time to stop early, or waste time in the mornings being dainty about this! What are you going to do if we camp by a stream and I need a bath? I can't see you three, being so noble about my feelings and such, just letting me go off alone. Guess what - that means you'll see me naked, boys! And I'll see you naked as well, remember that! Get used to it!" She huffed as she rebuttoned her blouse. "I think sometimes that Heinlein was right about men and women, at least in our world. Men's psyches are too fragile to handle things like this." Once rebuttoned, she turned back to her classmates. "Harry, Draco, Ron - I don't mean to do that for titillation, but to make a point. Back at Hogwarts, you wouldn't and won't find me dead around the school dressed in nothing but my underwear, or less. We're not at Hogwarts, and we don't have access to the niceties there. React later, but if I step out of the tent in my skin, boys, then assume I intended to, and deal with it."

Harry cleared his throat. "Are we at least allowed to admire the beautiful naked woman before us, if we don't let it slow us down...much?"

"That you can do ... if you don't let it slow you down much." She shook her head in disbelief. Then it struck her what he'd said. She turned to face him. "You think I'm beautiful?" She smiled in amazed surprise.

Harry stared at her for a moment. "Fishing for compliments, much? Why in hell do you think you've been bothering us so much? Remember Flitwick's comments about localized Petrificus spells? You think I'd have had that reaction to Millicent Bulstrode? Hell, even Cho didn't cause me this much mental grief!" Aragorn had deemed them ready to start moving again, by getting up and starting to walk before Hermione's question to Harry, so Harry followed and continued to grumble. "Jesus Christ!" he complained to Aragorn. "I'm beating my head against the wall over the fact that I may be falling in love with my best friend, which may ruin my friendship with my other best friend, because I think he's in love with her too, and she's running around intentionally trying to keep my blood supply below my waist! Argh! And she's fishing for compliments! Why in hell does she think the concept of sharing the room with her bothered me? It's 'cause my mind isn't doing the thinking when she's acting like that, and dressed like that, and talking like that! Argh!" He stomped along beside Strider in a brooding silence.

Meanwhile, behind them, the other three were walking in shocked silence, because Harry had been more audible to them than he thought. Finally, Hermione, who the boys had manoeuvred to be between them, turned to Ron, who had a look on his face that she simply couldn't place. He looked partly angry, but he also had some confusion on his face, as well as a few other things she had no reference for. "Ron?"

"Later, 'Mione. Need to think." He looked at Draco. "No jokes, please."

"Don't worry, Weas... Ron. I admit that I don't know him, really, but didn't that seem a little ... wrong?"

"Yes," Hermione responded. "Then again, I've never before made a concerted effort to make him notice that I'm female, as I have these last two weeks or so." She sighed sadly.

After a suitable wait, Draco laughed. "It'll never go anywhere, but I'll admit that I certainly appreciate that fact. That you're female, that is. Ever think about posing for one of those Muggle magazines? I know I'd buy it."

She blushed. "Thanks, Draco, but after some of those articles in Witch Weekly about me? Are you crazy? I'd see nothing but Howlers for months!"

"True. Hell on the furniture, those." He smiled. "I just hope we don't spend the whole trip to Rivendell all brooding over various things - we'll be ripe for starting one of daytime drama type things - Hogwarts Hearts, or some other stupid title."

Hermione couldn't help herself - she started giggling at that, and it turned into full-fledged laughter shortly. She leaned partially against Draco, as Ron was so deep in his thoughts that he actually tripped slightly a few time over things that he would normally have missed. Harry looked back, and his scowl deepened slightly, and he turned forward again.

#####

They camped that night in a small clearing, and the Hogwarts students pulled their packs off gladly. "My feet are killing me bad enough already," Draco said, "and walking with a full pack is not helping any." He slipped off his boots and wiggled his toes.

"Me too," Hermione said, unclasping her cloak, and then taking off her own pack. She looked up to Aragorn. "Any recommendations on how we should set up our tents? Orientation, I mean?"

"My only suggestion is to not have the opening face the fire, which belongs in the center of the clearing. That way if we are attacked, you will not be as blinded up exit. Beyond that, that is your decision." He paused for a moment before saying, "I admit that I do not understand why you ask a question like that - your packs are far too small to carry the equipment you truly need for such a trip as we have ahead. You have no tents that I can see."

Draco grinned. "Watch and learn, Strider." He reached into his pack and rummaged for a bit, and then pulled out a very small bag. "Ah, there it is." He set it on the ground, pulled out his wand and said, "Engorgio!" The bag grew, and quickly became obvious that it held something of interest. The grin got wider. "One of the only things saved from the wreckage of Malfoy Manor, mainly because it was stored in an outdoor shed." His smile disappear, replaced by a flare of hatred, and Hermione walked over and put her hand on his arm. He shook his head. "Help me get this thing set up?" he asked everyone.

In short order, an elaborate tent was in the middle of the clearing. It almost appeared to be a small castle. Aragorn was shaking his head. "Now where shall we put the fire, Mister Malfoy?" he asked with some asperity.

"Ah, Strider, you've only seen the outside! Step inside with me," Draco said. As the group stepped inside, Ron whistled.

"Why were we sleeping in the inn last night when we had this?" he asked in admiration. There was a fire burning in the center in a firepit, and there was a door off the large main room, which was obviously intended as a combination dining area and family room. There was also a hallway leading from the room, opposite the entrance.

"Because we don't want to draw attention to ourselves, Ron." Draco replied with a resigned sigh. "In the woods, where no one is around, we're safer opening this thing. We close the door from the inside, and it will take some serious magic to get it open from outside. We'll be able to get a good night's sleep.. When we get closer to civilisation, we'll want to hide our unusual attributes. 'When in Bree, do like the Bree'," he said with a slight chuckle. "Depends on the ground, too. This thing needs some solid ground - no marshland or things get a little odd in here. Wet beds, fire pit going out, things like that." He led them around the ground floor, showing them the kitchen, which was the door off the main room. Behind an ornate pocket door was a set of stairs that led up to a series of bedrooms, each with its own water closet and full bath.

Aragorn had looked stunned for the entire time inside the tent, and finally exclaimed, "If you are this powerful, to have such things that you take for granted, what is our quest to you?"

Hermione walked up to him and opened her mouth, but Harry spoke first. "If it's dangerous here, what makes you think it would be any less so where we come from? Those Prophesies were pretty clear - if we didn't bring it back here, we were doomed, as well as your world being doomed. That strikes me as pretty clear - bring it here, and be done with it." He turned and headed toward the kitchen. "I'm going to start dinner. I assume this thing is fully stocked?" Draco nodded, and Harry walked through the kitchen doorway. He carefully closed the door behind him.

"Is your friend always of this mood? Or is it a result of his youth?" Aragorn asked, a slight smile at the end of his question.

Ron was scowling. "Even when he was angry at me, I don't think I've seen him quite this ... well, nasty seems to be the word that's coming to mind. He's got an air to him that's worrying me."

"That's my fault," Hermione said. "I think it looks like I'm playing with all three of you." She turned her head toward the owner of the tent. "Unless something happens, Draco, I really can't see myself with you at any point. I can see us becoming friends, if you keep going the way you have been these last two days, but romance is unlikely."

"Why?" he asked, honestly puzzled, and a little bit hurt.

"Too much history, to be honest. I'll get past that - we all will, but right now, there's too much behind us both. I'm sorry." She looked about to cry. "I don't mean to hurt you."

Draco brushed away the one tear that had leaked from her eye and said, "I understand now. Who knows - maybe someday..." He grinned at her, the same impudent grin he always wore back at Hogwarts.

She turned back to Ron after a moment. "Now we figure out between the three of us - you , me, and Harry. Can I assume that's what you were thinking about today as we walked?"

"Yeah," Ron scowled. "And the answer is that I don't know. I know I'm attracted to you, but I don't think it's ever gone beyond thinking about you, me, and a private place." His face was trying to match his hair. "As for love? I don't know. To be honest with you, 'Mione, I don't think I am." Her face fell slightly. "Doesn't mean I won't be jealous as hell watching you and Harry snogging, if you can get him past this snit he's in." He laughed. "Besides, like Strider says - we're sixteen. In another five years, the three of us could be attending your wedding to - oh, let's say Neville!"

She started to laugh. "Neville? I like him, but I can't see me marrying him in our universe. Maybe in some alternate version." She shook her head. "Point taken, though. No long range decisions right now." She walked over to him and hugged him. "Thanks for the compliments, though."

Harry walked out with steaming bowls of something. "I heated some soup, to get everyone started. The rest of it will take a little while."

"There's only four bowls here, Harry," Ron said.

"I'm doing the cooking, remember, Ron?" Harry replied with a smile, but less humour than anyone there was comfortable with. "I'm having my soup in there while I watch what I'm cooking. Which reminds me - don't want it to burn." He turned and headed back into the kitchen. The door didn't close all the way this time, however.

As they finished their soups, they heard an odd noise coming from the kitchen. Puzzled, Hermione tip-toed over to the door and looked through the crack, then backed up in some shock. Back by them she said, "I've seen my mother cube meat for meals, but I've only ever seen her do it with anything like that kind of violence when she and Dad had argued." She shook her head. "I need to talk to him tonight, after we've eaten."

That was not to be, however. Harry came out again with four plates of a rather delicious stew a little while later, but immediately turned back around to head into the kitchen. "Dirty dishes," he explained. "Petunia trained me too well to leave them." He closed the door again, this time making sure it closed solidly.

They waited for a while, making small talk, when Ron finally said, "How bloody many dishes did he use to cook with, anyway?" He threw the door open. "Harry, get... what the... ?"

Draco smacked his forehead, a move Hermione never would have imagined him doing. "Of course! The house elf stairs! Since a man as important as my father doesn't want to see house elves or servants unless he calls for them, they have to have some way to get upstairs. Harry used the servant stairs."

"Well, we should be getting to bed soon anyway, what with how tired we all are, and the fact that we'll need to break down the tent at morning light," Hermione said sadly. "I'll bet he's locked his door up there, too." They headed upstairs to find one of the doors shut solidly. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and tears leaked out from between her eyelids.

Ron's reaction was to scowl at the door and grumble, "Stupid git sometimes, aren't you?" before walking into one of the rooms. Draco put his hands on her shoulders and simply led her to a room.

As she closed her door, he looked to Aragorn and said, "I'm the Slytherin one. I'm not supposed to care that a Gryffindor is crying. Why does it bother me?"

"Because you care, my friend," Aragorn replied. "That sees no boundaries."

#####

An hour later, Hermione was still looking at the ceiling. She'd tried drawing a bath, hoping to relax enough to be able to sleep, but it made her clean. Finally, she stood up, grabbed her wand, and headed to Harry's door. Checking it, she found it locked, as she had expected. "Alohomora!" led to a scraping sound of the bolt sliding back, and she opened the door. She stuck her head in and said, "Harry?" She knew nothing after that.

#####

In the morning, Harry was awakened by a pounding on his door. "Get up, you git!" Ron was shouting through it. He sounded alarmed. What's he got to be bothered about?

He opened the door and said, "You can stop screaming now. I think we're all awake now." He turned back into his room to get dressed.

"Not Hermione. We can't wake her!" Ron replied, worried.

Harry sighed. He exited his room and walked to Hermione's, which was open. Aragorn and Draco were both in there, trying to wake her, with no success. "Step away from her," Harry commanded, and they both stepped away from her bed. "Finite Incantatum!"

She yawned and opened her eyes. "How did I get here? The last thing I remember," she said, stopping to yawn again, "was opening Harry's door to talk to him." She scowled at him. "You hit me with a sleep spell of some sort!"

Harry said simply, "Yes. I didn't want to be awakened, so I cast it to go off on anyone who opened the door. I heard you hit the floor, and Mobilicorpus'ed you to your bed." He shook his head. "You need to get up, Hermione. We need to get moving. I'm going to get dressed, and then go downstairs and make breakfast." He left the room and went back to his own, closing the door.

Downstairs, as he came out to the table with five plates of eggs and bacon, he found Ron scowling at him, and Draco looking coldly at him. Hermione wouldn't meet his gaze, looking down into her food, scowling. Aragorn was the only one who looked at him normally, not seeming to care one way or another about their disputes and sorrows. Breakfast was fast and silent, and breaking down the tent afterwards went quickly.

The mood of the students didn't change over the next three days, especially when they went from forest to marshy ground. They camped in less opulent tents on those nights, which was the only thing saving them from being eaten alive. The third night, their eyes were drawn to the flashes in the sky, off to the east. "What is that?" Harry asked.

"I do not know," Strider answered. "It is too distant to make out. It is like lightning that leaps up from the hill-tops." They slept uneasily that night.

On the fifth day out, they quickly came to an end of the cold wet ground, and began to climb again. In the distance they could see a line of hills. The highest of them was at the right side of the line, and somewhat separated from the others. It had a conical top, slightly flattened at the summit.

"That is Weathertop," said Strider. "The Old Road, which we have left far away on our right, runs to the south of it and passes not far from its foot. We might reach it by tomorrow noon, if we go straight towards it. I suppose we had better do so."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"I mean: when we do get there, it is not certain what we shall find. It is close to the Road."

"We're hoping to find some sign of Gandalf, I assume?" Draco asked.

"Yes; but hope of him being there is faint. If he comes this way at all, he may not pass through Bree, and so may not know what we are doing. We are not likely to arrive there together except by luck; and it will not be safe for either him or us to remain there long. If the Riders fail to find us in the wilderness, they are likely to make for Weathertop themselves. It commands a wide view all around."

"What do you advise, then, Strider?" Ron asked, worried.

"I think," Strider replied slowly, as if unsure of his answer, "I think the best thing is to go as straight eastward as we can from here, to make for the line of hills, not for Weathertop. There we can strike a path I know that runs at their feet; it will bring us to Weathertop from the north and less openly. Then we shall see what we shall see."

They plodded along the rest of that day until they found a place to camp, and by agreement, even though there was room to set up the Malfoy pavilion, they did not set it up, since it was too obvious. There was a stream nearby, and they made some effort to at least pretend to clean up some, with Harry continuing to brood and speaking little, and Hermione occasionally leaking tears. The sixth night, the night of the fifth of October, they made camp at the feet of the westward slopes.

In the morning they found, for the first time since leaving the woods, a track plain to see. They turned right and followed it southwards. It ran cunningly, taking a line that seemed chosen to keep as much hidden as possible from the view, both of the hills above and the flats to the west. It dived into dells and hugged steep banks. Where it came into the open there were boulders and cut stone that screen the travellers as if it were a hedge.

"I wonder who made this path?" Harry mused.

"The Men of the West defended these hills for a while against the evil that came out of Angmar. This path was made to serve the forts along the walls. Long before, though, in the first days of the North Kingdom, they built a great watch-tower on Weathertop, Amon Sul they called it. It was burned and broken, and nothing remains of it now but a tumbled ring, like a rough crown on the old hill's head. Yet once it was tall and fair."

#####

It was already noon by the time they drew near to the southern end of the path and saw the path leading up the northern slope of the hill. They decided to make for the top at once while they had daylight. They no longer had any concealment, and could only hope that there were none nearby to spy on and report their movement; roughly forty minutes later they stood at the crown of the hill, amidst the broken, crumbling wide ring of stonework. In the middle, though, was a tall heap of broken stones, blackened as if by fire. The turf was burned to the roots around it, and all through the ring the grass was scorched and shrivelled as if the entire hilltop had been swept by flame. Nothing living had left a sign there that they knew.

As they looked about the visible world from their high vantage point, feeling uneasy, they suddenly heard Strider's "Ah! This has been handled recently! And by Gandalf, I believe." He showed them the small white stone he had found atop the charred cairn. It was white, as if untouched by the flames that had ravaged here, and had scratches in it: a thick vertical stroke with what appeared to be thin strokes heading diagonally upward from the right side, a dot, and then three more thick vertical strokes. "I read this to mean that it stands for G3, and is a sign that he was here on October the third, three nights ago, the night we saw the flashes from this direction. Danger was at hand, and he could not leave a longer or plainer message. He is here no longer, having likely endured an attack of some sort, and we must now make our own way to Rivendell, as best we can."

"How far to Rivendell?" Hermione asked in a small voice. The sight of the ancient ruins filled her with a dread she could not remember feeling before. Harry rolled his eyes. Ron walked toward him and opened his mouth, but Strider answered her question before Ron culd speak.

"I don't know if it has ever been measured in miles, but I know how long it would take me on my own feet, with fair weather and no ill fortune: twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen, where the Road crosses the Loudwater that runs out of Rivendell. We shall have at least a fortnight's journey before us, for I do not think that we shall be able to use the Road."

"Right," Ron said. "You, you stupid git, are going to get this worked out as soon as you can. I'm sick of your sullen silence, and what's really getting me is that you're making Hermione cry. She thinks it's her fault, when you're the barmy idiot who wants to take everything as a direct insult to you. Even I wasn't that bad when we were fighting over whatever stupid thing it was a few years ago. Get. Over. It. Now."

"Or else what, Ron?" Harry asked, his wand having dropped into his hand.

Ron's fist shot out and caught Harry on the jaw, knocking him off his feet and sending the wand flying several feet. By the time Harry had retrieved his wand and stood up, Ron's wand was out and aimed at Harry, and the cold look in Ron's eyes gave Harry pause.

"Fine," Harry said, sliding his wand back up his sleeve. "I'm not willing to fight anymore. She's yours, Ron. I can't afford the distraction anyway - I'll probably be dead by the end of next year, according to the Prophecy Voldemort was after."

All but Strider turned to look at him. "How do you know? It was destroyed in the Battle of the Ministry," Hermione said.

"The one who'd put it in the Ministry still remembered it. Basically, one or the other of us has to kill the other. Either one, or both of us dies. No other possibility. I'm not good enough to kill him, except by luck, so it's either me, or both of us. End of statement. And I figure it'll happen by the time I graduate from Hogwarts, or shortly after." He shrugged.

Hermione's eyes were wide. Before she could say anything, though, their attention was drawn by Strider. "Hsst! Let us get below, to the hollow at the bottom of the hill. There are black forms upon the Road below." They ran as safely as possible down the hill to the hollow, where they found firewood and the tracks of many heavily booted feet. "As much as I do not like this place for camp, I feel it is our best choice, for we could not find a better one by nightfall." He shook his head. "I was too careless on the hill-top. I desired some sign of Gandalf; but it was a mistake to take you all up to the hill, where we stood for so long. While the Black Riders' senses are not those of Men, their horses can see as any horse does. The Riders also sense the blood of the living, and desire and hate it. Also," he finished, his voice dropping to a whisper, "the Ring draws them."

"Bloody!" Harry stage-whispered. "I'll get you all killed if I stay here with you, but I can't go anywhere, not knowing the country. I'll walk into their arms!"

Strider laid his hand on Harry's shoulder. "There is still hope. You are not alone. Let us take this wood that is set ready for the fire as a sign. There is little shelter or defence here, but fire shall serve for both. Sauron can put fire to his evil uses, as he can all things, but these Riders do not love it, and fear those who wield it. Fire is our friend in the wilderness," he said, rolling the 'r' in Sauron, which somehow made the name sound all the more evil.

"Also a bloody good way of giving those Riders a signpost," Ron muttered.

They made a fire in the lowest and most sheltered corner of the dell, and prepared a small meal. As they ate, Ron, Hermione, and Draco shared a look. Harry had gone from being a surly, nasty teenager to appearing not to care about anything. He looked already defeated. Strider noted this, and began to tell tales of the world, both to educate them somewhat in the old histories, but also to keep their minds from the danger that seemed just outside their non-existent door. The breadth of his knowledge had them wondering how old he was, to have this much at his command.

#####

Finally, as the moon rose, they stood and stretched their legs. Ron and Draco walked away from the fire, while Harry looked ... elsewhere, and Hermione watched Harry. I think I am falling in love with that lightning scarred fool, she sighed to herself. Even before that revelation about the Prophecy from the Ministry. She felt anger rise in her breast. I'll be damned before I let Voldemort take away Harry before I have a chance to find out whether we have a chance! He won't get my friend, even if we don't end up a couple. She sat straighter, determination flowing through her, and Strider's eyebrow rose. She opened her mouth to explain, within Harry's hearing, but Ron and Draco came running up like scared rabbits. She gave them a dirty look, but only for the barest of seconds.

"I don't know what's out there," Ron said, "but I had this feeling about the ground out there. You couldn't get me out on that ground with a hundred naked veelas singing in my ears."

"I thought there was something out there," Draco said, "but it may have been a trick of the moonlight. I thought I saw some shapes moving out there."

"Keep close to the fire, with your faces outward!" cried Strider. "Get some of the longer sticks ready in your hands!"

#####

The feeling of dread slowly came into the dell, and Harry found his hand going to his pocket to pull the Ring out. He began toying with it nervously under his cloak, and the feeling of dread grew. Finally, shadows seemed to grow before them until there was no mistaking something was there; black holes against the deep shade behind them.

Harry was reminded of Dementors in the feelings that arose in him, but rather than send a Patronus at them, he felt a compulsion to put on the Ring, heedless of Gandalf's warning. He fought with the compulsion, far more insidious than any Imperius Curse. He fought it for a short time, but finally he slid the ring onto his left forefinger.

Immediately, though everything else remained dim and dark as before, the shadows became clear and sharp. Five figures stood before them; two at the lip of the dell, and three more advancing. Their white faces had keen, merciless eyes; they wore long grey robes; they wore silver helms on their grey hair; in their hands were steel swords. Their eyes fell on him and they rushed him. He drew his wand, and two of them stopped; only the third continued to advance. He was taller than the others, and upon his helm was a crown. He held a sword in one hand, and drew a knife in the other. Both the knife and the hand that held it glowed with a pale light. He sprang forward and bore down on Harry.

At that moment, Harry threw himself to the ground, rolled, and shouted "Incendio!" A shriek filled the night, and a hideous pain pierced Harry's shoulder. Even as he lost consciousness, he saw Strider leaping from the darkness, fire in either hand, and bolts of fire bursting from his friends' wands. With his last conscious thought and effort, he slipped the Ring from his finger and closed his right fist about it tightly.