Harry Potter and the One Ring of Power

Chapter Two - Hogwarts to Rivendell

Hogwarts Castle, Great Britain

When Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco had decided what they wanted to take, they let the Bloody Baron know, and he summoned Professor McGonagall. As she looked at them, her stern demeanor changed slightly, and Harry would have almost sworn he saw her eyes glisten.

"Are you sure you have everything you'll need?" she asked. Hermione pulled out the list she had compiled with an air of triumph.

"We've got sturdy hiking boots and outdoor clothes, our Hogwarts robes, hooded cloaks to keep off the rain, one Ernie's Everlight™ Torch apiece, compasses, Swiss Army knives, those swords that Professor Dumbledore wants us to pack along, our wands, wizard water bottles that hold a gallon apiece, cooking gear, first-aid gear, both magical and Muggle-style, and bedrolls." Professor McGonagall nodded approval.

"Excellent, Miss Granger. If I were like Professor Snape, I'd give twenty-five points to Gryffindor, but since I'm not, let me just say that I'm very proud of you. Students like you are what makes a teacher's career worthwhile." Hermione blushed slightly. Harry looked studiously innocent. There were a few things they hadn't mentioned, such as his Invisibility Cloak, but he had always kept the knowledge of its existence a closely held secret, and even letting Draco Malfoy in on it had been a wrench. Not that it hadn't been funÂ…

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"You mean to tell me, Potter, that you've had this thing since your first year at Hogwarts? Welly-welly-welly-well, this does explain a few things, doesn't it?" Malfoy drawled. "Like the time I ran into your redheaded sidekick, the Weasel, up by the Shrieking Shack, and saw your head floating in the air!" Malfoy looked reluctantly respectful. "Devious, you are, and no mistaking it! 'Tis a pity the Sorting Hat didn't put you into Slytherin House; I think your talents have been wasted in Gryffindor."

Harry scowled: even though they were going to have to work with Malfoy, nobody had ordered him to like the arrogant brat. "I'm glad I ended up where I did, Malfoy. Besides, with me around, would people in Slytherin House have even paid attention to you? After all, I am the Boy Who Lived."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You do have a point there, Potter. However, our motto in Slytherin is 'Me duce tutis eris,' if you know what that means." His smug smile slipped when Hermione piped up:

"It means 'With me for your leader, you will be safe,' but if you think you're going to lead, Malfoy, just remember a few things. First, we don't necessarily trust you as far as we could throw you, whether you've reformed or not. Second, we've been working together as a well-oiled team for five years now, and we've foiled you again and again. Third---" Malfoy held up a hand, grinning ruefully.

"Very well, I see that I'll have to demonstrate my genius, not just have it unthinkingly accepted. Okay, I accept the challenge." Ron glared at him. Malfoy grinned, making Ron glare even harder. "It'll be a change from Crabbe and Goyle. Of course, those two are so thick that I've known farm animals that are geniuses next to them." Malfoy grinned even more widely. "Asphalt-sandwich level, if you know what I mean."

"Just demonstrating that you're trustworthy will do for now, Malfoy." Draco's eyes narrowed, and he moved toward Ron, but Harry and Hermione got between them and kept them apart. After a few minutes, the tension eased, and they went back to packing.

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"I think we're expected at Professor Dumbledore's office, so let's get going." snapped Hermione, picking up her pack and settling it on her back. The others followed. As Harry walked through the familiar corridors of Hogwarts, he looked around carefully, to fix everything in his mind's eye. He was under no illusions---none of them were---about the upcoming task being easy, or non-dangerous. Professor Dumbledore had explained that Arda was a primitive environment, and that it had a lot of very dangerous inhabitants. On top of that, the maker and original owner of the Ring was evil and powerful enough to make Voldemort at his worst look like Father Christmas.

Dumbledore was sitting in his office, the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts all watching attentively, as they trooped in behind Professor McGonagall. He stood up to welcome them, his face a mask of concern. On his desk, Harry could see a small leaden box, with arcane symbols molded into its sides and top.

"I'm glad to see you're all here. I have no words to express how proud I am of all four of you, for volunteering to do this." Harry felt himself blushing; despite all the adulation he had had heaped on him in the wizarding world, praise from Professor Dumbledore was still balm to his Dursley-scorched soul. Dumbledore reached for the box. "The ring is in here, to keep it from attracting Lord Voldemort. However, the box will not go through the dimensional barrier, so one of you must be the 'Ring-Bearer.'" He opened the box, displaying a beautiful golden ring, sitting on a cushion made of stuffed parchment with magical symbols written all over it. Harry recognized a few of them as very powerful Anti-Dark-Magic symbols; he had seen them in his texts. The others apparently also recognized them: Hermione shuddered, Ron looked slightly sick, and Draco turned even paler than usual, his hands twisting in an apotropaic gesture to ward off evil.

"Well, there's only one way to do this, and that's to draw cards." Harry managed to say, fear nearly choking his voice. "Is there a deck here?" Her hands trembling, Hermione reached into her pack and withdrew a deck of Tarot cards.

"Here---they're a present from my aunt. She doesn't quite understand about Hogwarts, but when she found out that I was studying 'magic,' she sent me these for Christmas one year." Professor Dumbledore took the cards. His eyebrows went up as he riffled them with expert hands.

"Ahh, Rider-Waite, the standard Divination deck," he murmured. "Your aunt has good taste, I see---some of the decks I see Muggles buying are far better for decoration than Divination." Hermione blushed slightly, and Harry wondered if she was feeling guilty about having dropped Divination after her exasperation with Professor Trelawney had driven her to the breaking point. When he had last looked over the Divination syllabus, he had seen that they were going to cover cartomancy---divination by cards, whether Tarot or the regular fifty-two-card deck---soon.

Expertly ruffling through the cards, Professor Dumbledore separated out the Major Arcana from the deck. When he was through, he shuffled the deck with all the panache of a riverboat gambler, and held it out to the four students. "Pick a card, any card. Highest card gets the Ring."

His hand trembling, Ron picked a card---the Three of Wands. His relief was visible as Draco Malfoy came forward and picked a card. Malfoy's face lit up at what he saw. "Ha! The Two of Cups!" Hermione selected a card, and held it up wordlessly. It was the Eight of Pentagrams. She watched, sweat rolling down her forehead, as Harry finally came forward and made his selection. Harry looked at the card, and felt sick. He looked again, and it was still the same card---the Ten of Swords.

Professor Dumbledore shook his head sympathetically. "I'm afraid that this is your burden, at least for now, Harry," he said, holding out the little leaden box. "Things do seem to happen to you, don't they?" Harry reached in with hands that felt like they were twice their normal size, and took out the ring. It rested quiescently on his palm, feeling much heavier than its size would indicate. Under it, there was a thin gold chain, which Harry opened with a clasp and threaded through the Great Ring, hanging it around his neck under his shirt. Although it rested quietly against his chest, he could feel its power, coiled and waiting for the hand that could wield it.

Hermione touched him gently on the shoulder, and he turned to face her, startled at the sight of her eyes glistening. Hermione almost never cried. "Harry---if the Ring gets to be too much for you, let me know, and I'll take it for a while." Touched beyond measure, Harry patted her shoulder, nodding wordlessly.

"It might be a good idea, to pass the Ring back and forth among yourselves," put in Professor Dumbledore. "That way, it has less of a chance to get control of any one of you. Perhaps you should take regular turns with it." Ron and Draco looked worried at this thought---they were easily able to sense the Ring's power and evil will. Nonetheless, under Professor Dumbledore's gaze, they both nodded, gulping.

"So---how are we supposed to get to Arda?" asked Draco, his light tone not masking the fear he felt. Harry looked at the others, and then looked away; Draco was nearly chalk-white, and sweat was running off him despite the cool temperature. Beside him, Ron looked as though he was bracing himself to face a firing squad, and Hermione's face was set and still. Professor Dumbledore took out a staff from the closet behind his desk.

"This staff is a very specialized sort of Portkey, Mr. Malfoy. It's big enough for each of you to grasp it, and when all four of you have hold of it, the command word 'Portare' will take you to Rivendell, in Arda. My good colleague in Arda, Gandalf the Grey, is awaiting you eagerly." His eyes twinkled for a second, and he looked much more like the old Professor Dumbledore. "He's said that I've praised you so highly that he can't wait to see you for himself."

"You mean that you're in contact with wizards in other worlds?" asked Hermione, her characteristic eagerness to learn breaking through her fear. "How fascinating that must be! What other worlds do you know of?" Professor McGonagall shook her head fondly, her eyes filled with pleasure at Hermione's thirst for knowledge.

"Well, in Arda, there's Gandalf, and before him, Saruman the White. In Midkemia, the main wizard's name is Pug, and he's also chief wizard for a neighboring world called Tsurunannu. On the Discworld, the closest equivalent is probably Granny Weatherwax---a terrible old harridan, she could probably eat Grindelwald for breakfast---in Krynn, there's Raistlin, in Ravenloft it's almost certainly Azalin---a truly dreadful creature, be glad you're not going anywhere near him---Greyhawk has Mordenkainen, Elminster's in the Realms, and Constant Drachenfels, in Warhammer. There are many, many others, but these are the ones I remember most clearly."

"Oh, they sound so interesting! The things I could learn from them!" Hermione's eyes shone. Dumbledore shook his head.

"Many of them are evil enough to make Voldemort look quite harmless. Constant Drachenfels, for instance, is in many ways what Voldemort merely aspires to be. Believe me, Miss Granger, you do not want to meet some of these wizards until you are far, far more powerful than you now are. Even I don't want to meet some of them." Dumbledore held out the staff. "Are you ready to leave?"

"No," said Harry, "but I know I've got to go. Come on, everybody, let's get this over with." They put their hands on the staff.

"Portare!" They chorused the command word.

And everything changed around them, swirling and dissolving, as they felt themselves falling, falling endlessly.

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Rivendell, Middle-Earth, Year 3019 of the Third Age, October 4

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco found themselves standing in a beautiful glade. The air was chilly, but smelled incredibly sweet; Harry was reminded of the gardens at Privet Drive, when it was deep summer and they were a mass of flowers. Everything seemed almost impossibly clean and tidy.

His companions were similarly lost in awe. Hermione drew in her breath, savoring the wonderful air. Draco seemed quite drawn to the trees, which were of no variety Harry had ever seen, either in Muggle life or in his Herbology texts and lessons. Cautiously, as though offering food to a wild deer, Draco reached out and ran his hand over the bark of the nearest tree, caressing it without seeming to realize what he did. Ron was similarly rapt at their surroundings.

"Where are we?" asked Hermione. She came out of her trance by a visible act of will and looked around. "I mean, this must be 'Arda,' but I don't see anybody here to meet us, or anything."

"No doubt you don't," came a strange, musical voice from nearby, startling all four Hogwarts students. As one, they moved back-to-back, their wands out and at the ready. Musical laughter from all around greeted this maneuver."Very good! Gandalf's colleague trained you well, we see. However, you need not fear us, if you are the people that Dumbledore sent. We were sent here to await your arrival."

"Show yourselves!" snapped Draco. "Let's see just who you are, and we'll go on from there." His words were greeted with more laughter, as several dozen lithe men appeared as though out of the woods themselves, carrying bows with arrows nocked. Harry's eyes widened. He'd heard of high elves, and seen a few pictures in old books, but this was the first time he'd ever actually seen any. Their features were nearly as delicate as beautiful women, but still managed to remain masculine. Their ears were pointed and poked up through their shoulder-length straight hair, and their upswept eyebrows were all that remained to make Harry sure of his identification.

The foremost elf approached, stowing his bow and holding up his hand in the sign of peace. "My name is Nenandil, which means---"

"Water-lover," broke in Draco. He stopped suddenly and looked very surprised at himself. "How did I know that?" At this, all the elves laughed out loud, and put away their bows.

"When one bears the blood of the Elves, their language often comes with it, kinsman. But since you know my name and its meaning, may I know yours?"

Harry was thunderstruck. Looking from Draco Malfoy to the surrounding elves, he suddenly noticed strong resemblances. Like the elves, Draco was slender and graceful, and yet filled with lean strength. Even their features were not dissimilar. Unable to contain himself, he gasped: "But how---how do you happen to be related to him? We've never been in this world before!"

Nenandil looked long and thoughtfully at Harry. "There are, or were, elves in many different worlds and places. Some of them crossed between worlds voluntarily, while others were forced to through no fault of their own. And, I notice that although you know my name, I still have not received yours---and you are in Rivendell, which it is our charge to guard."

Harry blushed at the reminder of his bad manners. "Of course. I'm sorry. My name is Harry Potter, and these are my---companions." Ron and Hermione looked slightly puzzled, then comprehending, as he went on: "The blonde---the one you claim as kin---is called Draco Malfoy. This---" indicating Hermione, who blushed, "is Hermione Granger, and the redhead is Ron Weasley. Professor Albus Dumbledore sent us to this world, from our own where we are students of sorcery at a school called 'Hogwarts.'"

Nenandil looked impressed. "I see. In any case, the Great Hall of Rivendell is just over this rise here, and we have orders to conduct you to the lord of this place, Elrond Halfelven. Come!" The four trailed after Nenandil, surrounded by his elven archers, up a small rise, until at the top they could see Rivendell itself, stretched out below them.

Rivendell was set in a beautiful valley, which looked green and inviting even though it was obviously autumn. There was a large main building, built in a style Harry had never seen before, surrounded by outbuildings in the same style. In and around the buildings were many trees, leafy and green. In the distance, Harry could hear snatches of beautiful, sad, haunting song. Nenandil looked at him askance. "You have never heard elf-song, Harrypotter?" Harry shook his head, as though awakening from a dream.

"No---I've heard merpeople singing, and veela, but this is different. And, my given name is 'Harry,' and my family name is 'Potter.' Our names have two parts to them. Do yours?" The elf looked slightly puzzled.

"In some ways we do---dwarves, for instance, call themselves by their own name and their father's name with 'son of,' but this is not the custom of Elves. How may we address you without giving offense?"

Hermione, ever quick with facts, jumped in. "Formally, you would call us 'Mister'---or in my case, 'Miss'---followed by our family name. For everyday, the family name is used, or the given name if you're a friend." Nenandil nodded, storing this information away, as Hermione plowed on: "So, I'd be 'Miss Granger' formally, 'Granger' for everyday, and 'Hermione' to my friends."

Nenandil bowed. "Thank you, Miss Granger. I hope that one day I may be among those privileged to call you by your given name." Hermione blushed pink; she was slightly taken aback by his courtly manners. "In any case, we are awaited. May I escort you into Rivendell, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Malfoy?" As they followed Nenandil down the path to Rivendell, the singing grew louder and clearer, and even more achingly beautiful.

The main hall of Rivendell was built of wood, each piece fitting to the others as cleverly as a jigsaw puzzle. Harry was willing to believe that the craftsmen who had built the hall had needed no nails. When they reached the front door, it opened and they were confronted by a very familiar-looking figure---a tall old man with a white beard going down past his waist, dressed in long, flowing robes, with a high conical hat. The four stepped back involuntarily. "Dumbledore?" gasped Draco Malfoy. "Professor Dumbledore? What are you doing here?" The others raggedly chorused variants on that basic question.

The old man laughed, a long, loud rolling laugh. It was very like Dumbledore's laugh, but as Harry looked more closely, he began to see differences. This old man was not dressed in the same sort of robes Professor Dumbledore wore, his beard was a purer white and rather thicker than Dumbledore's, and his face was different. The similarities had been so strong at first glance, though, that it was a natural mistake to make.

"Albus will be amused when I tell him this. Apparently we do look more alike than I had ever believed. I am not Albus Dumbledore. I have many names, but you may have heard of me as 'Gandalf.'" Harry's eyes opened wide.

"We're pleased to meet you---er, do you have any title you use, or is just 'Gandalf' all right?" asked Ron.

The old man chuckled. "Gandalf is just right. For full formal purposes, I'm 'Gandalf the Grey,' since each high wizard here in Middle-Earth is identified with a color. Hence, my robes." He made a sweeping gesture at the grey robes he wore. "I do have many names, though. Still, 'Gandalf' I am in this language and in this place, and 'Gandalf' is quite suitable." He gestured into the hall. "Won't you come in? We've been awaiting you eagerly; young Albus was quite sure that you would be suitable to take up the task our four friends started out with. I will confess that I'm as curious as one of the cats of Queen Beruthiel."

As they filed into Rivendell, Harry looked at his companions. Draco Malfoy looked at ease, only his darting eyes betraying his awe at their surroundings. Ron was openly impressed, staring around as though he was a yokel that had never been anywhere in his life. Hermione had the look in her eye that Harry recognized; it was the look of 'I'm-going-to-find-out-what-I-want-to-know,' and if he'd seen it at Hogwarts, he'd have predicted that Hermione was going to be in the library until physically forced out. Since they weren't at Hogwarts, Harry imagined that Gandalf was in for a long, long session of answering Hermione's questions. Harry grinned to himself. Some things never, ever changed.

Their surroundings were impressive enough to justify Ron's open gaping. The architectural style was not one Harry recognized, although he had been interested in such things since before he found out he was a wizard. It looked like a combination of Gothic, Saracenic and Art Deco, all as if made by incredibly meticulous craftsmen who would spend ten years on a single detail, getting it just exactly right. The overall effect was as beautiful and restful to the eye as the singers they had heard outside had been to the ear, and just as obviously non-Earthly. He heard Malfoy mutter: "This place makes Malfoy Manor look like a rubbish tip," and inwardly agreed---Harry knew of no building on Earth that was anything like this.

The four Hogwarts students and Gandalf entered a large hall, where there was a long table laden with food. Others were there, both elves, humans and others that Harry had never seen the like of; shorter than Harry by at least a head, but broadly built and obviously very strong, with long beards elaborately braided and decorated, dressed in rich clothes. The babble of voices from the gathering was silenced as Gandalf preceded Harry and his companions into the hall.

In the sudden silence, Gandalf's deep voice sounded portentous as he announced: "As promised, they have come. I present to you the four replacements from 'Earth' that Albus Dumbledore sent to us, to replace the hobbits who were originally expected to arrive. We can now begin the meeting."

A tall elf that had been seated on a thronelike chair at one side of the room stood, nodding to the Hogwarts students as they bowed awkwardly. "Welcome to Rivendell, the Last Homely House East of the Sea. My name is Elrond, and this is my home. Please, do come in and introduce yourselves. We have much to discuss in the coming days."