Harry Potter and the One Ring of Power

That evening, they drew up their boats and rested on what Aragorn identified as the lawn of Parth Galen. Harry and the others were glad to get out of the boats, although they had gotten used to them. The ground felt good under their feet as they took their supplies out of the boats and pitched a camp.. Hermione made a fire, and they tucked into dinner with a good appetite. Draco took charge of the camp-cooking, and they had managed to catch some fish and find some wild vegetables to supplement their trail rations. Washed down with watered wine, the meal went down a treat.

Rubbing his stomach with pleasure, Ron told Draco: "Malfoy, I take back every bad thing I've ever said or thought about you. You have, to my surprise, one lonely virtue that overshadows all your vices---you can cook."

Hermione wiped her mouth with a bit of cloth from her pack. "He's right, you know. You'll make some lucky girl very happy some day." She grinned her old grin, the one that flashed across her face so fast that if you blinked, you missed it. "My mother would be absolutely mortified, you know. She's convinced that all women, merely by being women, are naturally gifted cooks, and that any 'mere male' in a kitchen can be trusted to burn water."

"And where did she pick up that idea, Granger?" asked Draco. He was obviously pleased at being praised for his skill, but only someone who had known him for as long as Harry, Ron and Hermione would have known it. To anybody else, he would have seemed his same old drawling, insouciant self. "Cooking and potion-brewing aren't too wildly different, so Father and Mother had me in the kitchen from the time I could walk. A lot of the skills carry over. Did you know Professor Snape's a Cordon Bleu chef in his own right?"

"Gods! I'd never have thought it!" gasped Harry. He grinned suddenly. "Hermione, you're the only one who'd understand this, since wizard-born children don't watch the Muggle telly---but can you imagine Professor Snape going head-to-head with Gareth Blackstock of the Chef show?" He looked awed. "That would be a battle worth going a long way to see---Blackstock and Snape, sarcasm at within-the-kitchen range, no quarter!" Hermione turned pink, and began to giggle madly at the thought of such a confrontation.

"For us poor, underprivileged wizard-born types who haven't been exposed to the glories of Muggle culture, could you explain?" asked Ron, irritation in his voice. Draco nodded in agreement, and then looked surprised to find himself agreeing with Ron Weasley on anything.

"Gareth Blackstock's a chef at a fancy restaurant called Le Maison Anglaise, and he's about as arrogant, overbearing and perfectionistic as Professor Snape---but with a better gift for invective," explained Hermione. "Like, for instance, when one of his assistants counsels backing down from a challenge, he asks 'Did Sir Edmund Hillary get within sight of the top of Everest, say that he'd now found what he was there for, and then go back down again?' The show revolves around his adventures and misadventures, like the time he gets invited to Paris to do a contest. The contest requires him to use only English ingredients, including English wine, which causes a lot of trouble when his competitors nobble the only bottles of English wine in all of Paris."

"English wine?" Draco was agog. "English wine? Isn't that a contradiction in terms, like 'military intelligence' or 'Lockhart's modesty?' If my father had ever heard of anybody wanting English wine, he'd have been convinced that Muggles were barking mad!"

Hermione shrugged. "I didn't write the show." Draco laughed so hard he lost his balance, and the other members of the Fellowship looked at Harry and his classmates curiously. Apologetically, Hermione told them: "It's kind of a private joke---it would take forever to explain." The others were still curious, but turned back to their own pursuits.

That night, Harry noticed that Aragorn was very restless. Even though he wasn't on watch, he kept on waking up, and when he was asleep, he tossed and turned uneasily. Finally, Harry went over when Aragorn was up and about.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked quietly. Aragorn looked at him. "I don't mean to pry, but something's bothering you. Can I help?"

"I don't know, Mr. Potter." Aragorn looked around uneasily. "I keep feeling like something's out there---something evil, and I don't necessarily mean Gollum. Can you cast a spell to see if there are orcs about? If Frodo were here, we could look at his sword, Sting. It was elven-made and would glow if orcs were near; the closer the orcs, the brighter the glow."

"Let me try a Foe-Location Charm," said Harry, delving into his bag for spell components. A few minutes later, he was casting the spell as Aragorn watched, fascinated. When the spell was finished, Harry looked up at Aragorn. "It shows that they're near, but not terribly near."

"They may be on Amon Lhaw, and may only be spies of the Enemy," said Aragorn. "I've never heard of orcs daring to climb Amon Hen. Still and all, we'll have to go carefully tomorrow."

* * * * * * * * * * *

The next day, the dawn was red and gloomy, as the sun illuminated clouds in the East from beneath. After a while, as the sun climbed, the weather grew more pleasant, with a few clouds in a bright sky. As soon as the whole Company was awake and fed, Aragorn called them together.

"Well, here's where we've got to make a choice, people. Either we go to Minas Tirith, or on into Mordor directly. There are arguments for both paths, and both have drawbacks as well. We also don't have to stay together; we can split up and go our separate ways. We'll have to choose quickly, though; we know there are orcs across the river, and they may be on this side as well. Mr. Potter," Aragorn continued, "this choice falls to you. You're the Ringbearer. What do you want to do?"

Harry knew what he wanted to do, even though it frightened him a great deal. He was wrestling with temptation, temptation like nothing he had felt since Cedric Diggory had offered him a free run at the Triwizard Cup, even though Diggory had been closer. He looked at all the faces, looking at him, and couldn't force himself to decide between the two ways.

"Give me an hour, and I'll get back to you. I've got to think about this, and think very hard. Just don't bother me for an hour, all right?" Harry asked. Aragorn nodded, sympathy in his eyes.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. We will give you an hour, and nobody will bother you." Aragorn led the others off, and Harry sat down on a rock and put his head into his hands.

After a little while, Harry got up and followed a path he saw, up through a wood, until he finally found himself at the top of a cliff, on a grassy lawn overlooking the river. He could hear the Rauros waterfall in the distance, and all seemed to be peaceful and serene. He sat down on another rock, and thought for a while, until he suddenly sensed that he wasn't alone. Jumping to his feet and reaching reflexively for his wand, he found himself staring at Boromir. The Gondorian looked at him with a kindly expression.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. I was wandering around, and happened across this spot. May I join you?" At Harry's nod, Boromir sat down near him. After a few minutes of companionable silence, Boromir spoke again: "Have you got any idea about what you're going to do next?"

"I don't quite know what to do next, Boromir. On the one hand, I know I'm going to have to go to Mordor. That scares the daylights out of me. On the other hand, I don't dare go anywhere else."

"Not even to---oh, say, Minas Tirith?" A terrible, yearning hope shone out of Boromir's eyes. "In Minas Tirith, you could rest from the rigors of the wild, and gather your strength."

"Lord Boromir, you've been harping on that idea for days now," sighed Harry. "Again and again, you've brought up going to Minas Tirith. I don't think you're doing it just because you're homesick. Is there some other reason you think I should go there?"

Boromir looked at Harry closely, and Harry squirmed under his gaze. "Well, Mr. Potter, since you ask, I do have reasons. The more I think about it, the more I feel that the Ring has come back to be used, not destroyed. With it, I---we---could overthrow the Dark Lord, and restore Gondor to her proper place among nations." Harry regarded the Gondorian closely, and quietly slipped his wand into his hand from where he usually kept it, in a sheath up one of his sleeves.

Harry decided to try reason first. "Look, Lord Boromir, you don't know what you're talking about. I've been in close proximity to the Ring for longer than you have, and I can sense that it's evil. Also, just who would be using this Ring, anyway?" A sudden suspicion grew to near-certainty in Harry's mind, watching the play of expressions over Boromir's face. "You? You want the Ring? By the gods, Boromir, have you gone mad?"

"Yes, I want the Ring! If you won't use it yourself, then let someone who has the will to use it have it!" Boromir sprung to his feet. "With the Ring, I could throw Sauron down, and restore Gondor's glory! I'd raise armies, and I'd march into Mordor and avenge my nation's suffering on the Dark Lord! We'd defeat his armies, and I'd take Barad-dur and cast it down for all time! I could cleanse Mordor, and make it a paradise, and tame the wild, making it a safe place to be! I'd---"

Harry cut him off in mid-rant. "You'd turn into a new Sauron, sooner or later, Boromir." Startled at being interrupted, Boromir stared at Harry as though he had sprouted wings. "No matter what sort of good intentions you started out with, you'd eventually become like Sauron."

"But can you be sure?" Boromir came closer, and Harry unobtrusively gripped his wand, getting ready to fight. "In any case, how can a child---a mere youth---stand against me? If I choose to take the Ring, I can do it, whether you will or not!" With that last statement, he came at Harry, his hands out to grab. His eyes were wild, and his face twitched.

Harry hadn't quite been expecting a move like this, and he hurriedly raised his wand. "Stupefy!" Boromir ducked the spell, and came at him, his face a snarling mask. Before Harry could dodge out of the way, Boromir grabbed him, holding onto him with hysterical strength.

"Expelliaramus!" came a cry, and Harry found himself flung from Boromir's hands, landing on his rear and knocking the wind out of him for a second. As he struggled to breathe, he saw Boromir turn to see who had enspelled him. The Gondorian's hearing was very good, and he apparently figured out where the shout had come from. He started for one corner of the clearing, drawing his sword.

"I'll have the Ring, whether you or anybody else try to stop me! With it, I can save Minas Tirith!" He hewed the air with his sword, but didn't connect with anybody. Harry struggled to breathe, and wondered what he'd do if Boromir decided that getting the Ring was more important than finding whoever had cast that spell.

No sooner had he thought that, than Boromir seemed to have the same idea, sheathing his sword and turning toward where Harry was sitting. In his desperation, Harry remembered what Bilbo and Gandalf had told him about the Ring and what it could do. Before he could lose his courage, he plunged his hand into his shirt, gripped the Ring, and slipped it onto his finger.

The world seemed to change around him as soon as his finger was within the metal circle. Harry's vision seemed to dim, but his hearing became extremely keen, and he could sense and smell things he hadn't been able to before. Boromir cast about wildly, trying to see where Harry had gone and calling his name.

Harry had gotten his breath back, and he was getting very angry. He had trusted Boromir, and to have him turn bad was a crushing blow. He understood just how Sirius Black had felt when Peter Pettigrew had turned out to be a traitor, and why he and Remus Lupin had wanted to kill Pettigrew when he had been exposed as Ron's former pet rat, Scabbers. Harry gripped his wand, struggling with the urge to blast Boromir down where he stood. Finally, he got control of himself, and pointed the wand, taking careful aim this time. "Stupefy!" The Gondorian fell like a poleaxed steer. Harry was amazed; he had never known his spells to be that powerful before.

"Harry? Is that you? How did you---I mean, where are you?" Ron Weasley was standing near where Boromir had been, pulling off the Invisibility Cloak and looking around. "How did you make yourself invisible? Or did you Apparate---no, I just heard you. Where are you?"

"Over here, Ron. I'm wearing the Ring." Harry reached out and gripped Ron's hand as it involuntarily twitched up; Harry didn't want to be ensorcelled by mistake. "Look, Ron, I think it's time that we split up. I'm going to Mordor, even if I have to go alone. You three can come along, or stay---it's up to you. I've got to go. This thing's too bloody dangerous for me to keep."

"You won't be alone, Harry," said Ron. "I'll be with you every step of the way. Let's get back down to the boats and get on out of here before the others come." Ron turned and started back off down the path, pulling the Invisibility Cloak on again as he ran. Harry pelted after him, feeling like there was a dreadful doom behind him, and it knew where he was, and it was coming ever closer.

Down by the boats, they found Hermione sitting and thinking. Ron pulled off the Invisibility Cloak as soon as he got there, startling her. "Ron! I thought---where's Harry? I think I can hear him, but where is he?" She peered around, her wand in her hand.

"I'm right here, Hermione. I'm wearing the Ring. Apparently it does make whoever wears it invisible. It also seems to soup-up any spells you cast. We've got to get out of here, fast! Boromir's gone bad. He wants the Ring. Get our stuff into one of these boats, and let's get going!"

Hermione didn't argue. White and pale, her face set with anger, she began throwing the Hogwarts students' packs into one of the boats, as well as some of the supplies they had been given in Lorien. "Boromir! I wondered about him, you know. He's been chattering about Minas Tirith until I got sick of the subject. Does he think he can use the Ring and not be mastered by it? He must be mad!"

Harry didn't notice much of what she said. Instead, he was exploring the new senses that the Ring gave him. It was as though he could sense how things were for miles and miles around them, as far as the Misty Mountains to the west or Mordor in the East. Everything seemed astir; there was a cloud of smoke over Moria, and fighting between elves and orcs in Lorien. The birds and beasts, and even the very trees, seemed to be getting ready to take sides.

When he turned his senses East, though, Harry's courage failed him. He could sense the power and malevolence of Mordor, radiating from the terrible fortress of Barad-dur---and he could sense that Sauron sensed him, as well. He could feel Sauron's will and attention, suddenly focussed on him and searching for him. Helplessly, he watched as that power reached forth, across miles of wilderness, to seek him out.

"Harry! Harry! What's the matter?" Ron had taken the Invisibility Cloak off, and was staring around wildly. "Are you there? Can you hear me? I said we've got to get moving!"

"He's---coming---for---me," gasped Harry. :"He---knows---where---I---am." Ron grabbed his shoulders and shook him; he had managed to figure out where Harry was standing.

"Take off the Ring, you chump! When you aren't wearing it, he can't track you!" Hermione's voice penetrated the fog in Harry's mind, and he pulled the Ring off. The world snapped back to normality, with his vision suddenly no worse than normal and the extra-keen hearing gone. For a second, Harry was dazed by the change. He felt Sauron's power as it passed by, seeking him, but without the Ring on his finger, it couldn't pinpoint him.

Draco Malfoy appeared, his eyes wild. "What was that? I just felt worse than I have since Moria!" He took in the scene. "Oh, planning to go off without your old mate Malfoy?" He pulled out his wand. "Well, you can just give that plan up, like right now!"

"Do you think you can stop us?" asked Harry. None of the three made a move for their wands, but Harry could sense them tensing beside him, getting ready to fight.

"No, Potter, I'm not going to stop you. You're going to Mordor, if I have to drag you every step of the way there. These other two can skive off to someplace cushy like Minas Tirith if they want, but you and I, Potter, have a little errand to make. An errand in Mordor!" Desperate sincerity radiated from every inch of Malfoy's wiry frame, as he pointed his wand. "And, I should add that the first of you to draw a wand'll get a curse, right between his or her beady eyes!"

"You mean---you want to go to Mordor?" Surprise edged Ron's voice. "We thought you'd be the first to want to go to Minas Tirith. We're just heading out to Mordor right now."

Draco smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, which were watchful. "And you decided to take my pack along, so as to lighten my load?" Harry risked a glance sideways, and saw Hermione blush. "Well, that's kind of you, but you'll not be rid of me that easily. You are not going to Mordor. We are going to Mordor. With four of us, we've got a better chance of at least one of us getting through, don't we?"

Ron looked very thoughtful. "Professor Trelawney did say that you were essential to success, Malfoy." Draco nodded. "Right, then," Ron pointed to the boat. "Get on in, and let's get going!"

With four passengers and their gear, the elven boat was more sluggish than it had been with just two, but they managed to get across the river. As they paddled, Harry told the others everything that had happened from the time he had gone off to think.

"I knew I had to go to Mordor, but I didn't know if any of you would come along. I kind of thought that Boromir had other ideas, but I hadn't expected him to try to take the Ring."

Draco's eyes widened. "So he did decide that he could handle the Ring! I had wondered about him, you know. He was always on about Minas Tirith, as though the rest of Middle-earth didn't really matter. I'm sorry to hear that he's gone bad, though. You didn't hurt him, did you?"

"No, I cast a Stupefication spell on him. It hit harder than I thought it would, but I was wearing the Ring when I did it, and I think that added extra power to my spell." Harry took off his glasses and polished the lenses absently. "Damn it, all I wanted was one bloody hour to myself! I was mostly thinking about how I was going to tell you goodbye. Living with this thing's convinced me that it has to be destroyed, but I hate to see you putting your necks on the chopping block, too!"

"Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Henry James Potter," began Hermione, her voice dripping freezing indignation, "but whether or not I choose to risk my life is not your decision to make. You are not my father, nor my husband. It's my life, and I assumed the risk when I agreed to come to Middle-earth in the first place. I meant every word I said at Rivendell---remember?" Her voice shook with the intensity of her emotion. "I may well be killed on this little trip. I came closer than I like to think to just that when I got hurt in Moria. I'd rather deal with that than have to live with myself if I just let you go off alone---so put that in your pipe and smoke it!" She burst into tears.

Harry was utterly nonplused, and a glance at Ron and Draco told him that they didn't quite know what to make of this either. Awkwardly, Harry patted Hermione, which made her cry even harder. "Okay, Hermione, okay, I didn't mean to insult you. I'm glad you are along. For that matter---" Harry looked around at Ron and Draco---"I'm awfully glad you are both along too. This will be a lot easier to handle with some familiar faces along."

"Even mine?" asked Draco. Harry regarded him narrowly. Behind his usual lazy drawl and insouciant pose, Harry could see a real fear of rejection. Harry's heart went out to Draco, remembering the things Draco had let slip to him about what life had been like for him before they had met.

"Even you, Malfoy. You've got skills and strengths the rest of us don't have. If nothing else, if we run into more Elves, you'll come in mighty handy." Harry suddenly quirked a grin, sparking reminiscent smiles from both Ron and Draco. "Of course, there are some ways of communicating with Elves that even a couple of fumble-wits like Ron and I can manage."

Hermione looked around, amusement warring with exasperation on her face. "Men!" At this, Harry, Ron and Draco burst out laughing, and Hermione finally, reluctantly, joined in. They beached the boat on the other side of the river, pulled out their packs and distributed the load of other things they had brought, and set out across the Emyn Muil, looking for a way into the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie.