Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Potestatem obscuri lateris nescis
Homeward bound
5 reviewsAn unknown heritage can cause so much change. It can make nations fall and mountains tremble. Harry Potter has an unknowm heritage and it is going to change more than just our world...
2TrainWreck
The lands of Middle earth may have been freed from their capitalist oppressors, but the class system had not improved all that much. It would take many generations for the class system that had been in place to be abolished, and for the peasants to finally be equal to the former lords. One way that this lack of social progress shone through was the near incessant use of honorifics, such as milord, milady, master and the like. Their use was so widespread, it would make Lenin have a stroke, and Stalin would go into a coma.
One particular elf by the name of Beriadanwe Valainistima Tucagwathiel, although she liked to be called Beri, was waiting impatiently for her Lords to return, and when they did, she would give them a tongue lashing that they would remember until the stars rained down from the heavens. She was their personal aide, and in theory, they were not supposed to take breaths, sleep or process victuals without her knowing about it. In practice, however, the Dark Lord Sauron and his mate Legolas delighted in causing her nervous breakdowns and mild heart attacks, Legolas providing the former and Sauron the latter; although Sauron provided the heart attacks much more frequently by appear out of nowhere, literally. These entrances often were accompanied by loud noises and occasionally a bright flash of light, although not often.
As she was pacing about nervously in her Lords bedchambers, Sauron provided one of his signature entrances, along with a very nice light show. When Sauron and Legolas stepped out of the portal, the first thing they saw was an unconscious Beri, and they both smothered giggles at the sight. On the other hand, as much as they would have liked to leave her there, they needed her help in caring for their son. Neither of them had a gift in the area of healing either the mind or body, and she was one of the best in the whole of middle earth. They revived her after composing themselves, and they quickly got down to the business of freeing their son from the grip of the mind constraints.
"My Lords, is this boy Aranethon, have you finally found your son? He looks like he came off worse in a fight with a horde of orcs!" Beri yelled out, wondering what happened to the poor boy. The boy truly did look like death warmed over; his face looked like a raw steak and his body was almost entirely black and blue.
"Yes Beri, he is our son, now we need your help in healing both his body and mind. We think who ever kidnapped him has been controlling his mind to make him more obedient." Sauron told the young elf, while stripping his son so Beri could have easier access if she needed it. Although as soon as the 'clothes' came off, he was filled with a rage that made the fires of Mount Doom seem like an enraged snail having a tantrum. His son's body painted almost entirely black and blue from the bruises, all in various stages of healing, but one could still see that they held the shape of human hands.
For the next half hour or so talking between the Lords of middle earth and Beri kept to minimum and they played orderlies, getting her what she required from wherever it was. For the most part, they watched in silence as their son's true body came into being, seeing his elvish features appearing for the first time. Just finishing taking care of the physical side of the healing took the better part of an hour, and then came the comparatively hard part.
As the mind control was of a magical sort, her elven healing methods would have only a limited effect, and past that her Lords would have to convince their son that they were speaking the truth. Although, that would be problematical, because Harry had told to hate everything of the dark side, and to beware of the many forms that evil could take. Moreover, being kidnapped from his 'relatives' house in the middle of the night was one thing that could definitely qualify a person as evil, or at least as not lily-white.
When Harry woke up, the first thing he did was to try to figure out whether the events of last night had been a dream. However, just when he had almost convinced himself that they were and that he just needed some deep psychoanalysis, he heard one of the voices from the night before, and all hell broke loose. Then he started screaming, mostly about why they had done this, can't you speak English, and about a dozen other things, but few of them were very relevant to his situation.
Now, as you can imagine, the language barrier made both the explanation and interrogation more than a little difficult. Hell, just skip right on past difficult, stop at devilishly and mind numbingly difficult, where the level of difficulty would be more appropriate and closer to the mark. It was like a Frenchmen who can only speak French interrogating a Swahili peasant who can speak only Swahili about the advancement of nuclear fusion research in the last twenty years by Tibetan monks; and all of this is going on without an interpreter. Harry desperately wished for something like a Babel fish or that nifty translator thing on Star Trek, hell, at this point he would settle for English subtitles to appear near the bottom of his vision.
Just as he was thinking that, he noticed something about his vision; that it was perfect, and he knew he most certainly did not have his glasses on. It was better than perfect in fact, and most likely light years better than any human eyes could produce, even with the best possible genetics. When he got to thinking about that, he noticed that many other things about his body had changed, his eyesight being one of the smaller changes. He noticed that his hair had grown, an anomaly in of itself, and it had grown by almost two feet, and in a single night that is strictly impossible.
He also noticed that he was taller than he was only a few hours before, although this was not so much disturbing as it was a godsend. Before he had barely broken five feet, but now he guessed that he could easily be six foot two, if not more. However, even though this should have caused his center of gravity to be somewhat higher, and his balance and coordination to suffer greatly, he was as graceful as a ballet dancer was in his new body. Perhaps the most striking thing, at least to Harry anyway, was how his body now rippled with muscles that were defined very well. He had never seen any wizards or witches with muscles like his, or anything even close to what he had now; though that could be because most magical folk were simply too used to the instant gratification that magic so readily provides to bother with actually getting something for themselves. It felt like he had liquid steel under his skin, it made him feel powerful, and he felt that he could easily crumple sheets of titanium alloy. He was not stupid enough to try this however, as it would probably result in injured and, more than likely, absolutely destroyed hands, which would be bad, to say the least.
Then came the part of the self-inspection that might have gone better than it actually did, but that course was a very unlikely one and was not to be. Harry had found a mirror, and began looking at his face to see if he could still recognize himself, and one of the first things he noticed was a definite change in a certain part of his anatomy, more specifically his ears. At first, he wondered whether he was seeing things, but when he felt the point his heart rate skyrocketed and the adrenaline floodgates stormed open. Unfortunately, both of these natural and very understandable biological responses resulted in an entirely unwanted result; the fainting of the owner of both the cardio and adrenal systems, in this case Harry.
Up until this point both Legolas and Sauron had just been watching their son explore the changes that they had seen overtake his body while he was unconscious. Now they had to deal with their unconscious son for the second time in less then twelve hours, and they were beginning to see a pattern, which, hopefully, would not continue for very long. They too were utterly bamboozled as to how they could elucidate things to their child and they were coming up with ideas as to how they might be able to do this. Unfortunately, the longer this went on, the more completely nonsensical the ideas became, and the less likely they would work in their favor, and that ran counter to their interests. At one point, they considered having one of the nazgul assist them, but then they thought about how Aranethon would react to seeing something that looked like a herald of death hanging over him. Advantageously for both them and Harry they decided against this course of action, because even though Harry might be able to cope with more than a few shocks, the sight of a dementor-like thing hanging above him might cause him to die of utter fright. Of course, it might just cause him to pass out cold for the third time is so many days, which no one really wanted to happen.
Several hours later after going to the archives, Beri found a partial answer to their communication problems. She had found a record buried deep in the archives at Minas Tirith, which spoke of a traveler from another world who seems to have spoken the same language as the newly arrived Aranethon. The Steward of Gondor, Ecthelion, who'd been told by one of the istari that this man would shape the futures of countless millions, had met the visitor, he had even made a translation table of some common words, and phrases present in the traveler's bizarre language. Although the list was far from a comprehensive record, it would at least allow them to make some basic communication, and in the document, there was a reference made to a history of the lore of Middle Earth, which the traveler had seemed particularly interested in. Finally, the document listed the names of some the elves that had helped translate the traveler's questions and answers, although this was not much help. Most of the elves on the list either had gone to the Grey Havens or had disappeared into the wild places of the world, so they were all right out unless they somehow someone found one of them in the next year or so. She hoped for her lords' sanity, and her own, which was much more valuable, that Aranethon was a quick learner, otherwise she might give her two weeks notice.
A/N: I have gone about as far as I can without assistance. I will freely admit that when I write character dialogue it is bad, so bad that it actually made one person claw out their own eyeballs. I need a collaborator, and who ever is kind and gracious enough to help me will be given due credit. Please help me, otherwise I will probably have the language difficulties go on for several chapters more, and I doubt anybody here wants that.
One particular elf by the name of Beriadanwe Valainistima Tucagwathiel, although she liked to be called Beri, was waiting impatiently for her Lords to return, and when they did, she would give them a tongue lashing that they would remember until the stars rained down from the heavens. She was their personal aide, and in theory, they were not supposed to take breaths, sleep or process victuals without her knowing about it. In practice, however, the Dark Lord Sauron and his mate Legolas delighted in causing her nervous breakdowns and mild heart attacks, Legolas providing the former and Sauron the latter; although Sauron provided the heart attacks much more frequently by appear out of nowhere, literally. These entrances often were accompanied by loud noises and occasionally a bright flash of light, although not often.
As she was pacing about nervously in her Lords bedchambers, Sauron provided one of his signature entrances, along with a very nice light show. When Sauron and Legolas stepped out of the portal, the first thing they saw was an unconscious Beri, and they both smothered giggles at the sight. On the other hand, as much as they would have liked to leave her there, they needed her help in caring for their son. Neither of them had a gift in the area of healing either the mind or body, and she was one of the best in the whole of middle earth. They revived her after composing themselves, and they quickly got down to the business of freeing their son from the grip of the mind constraints.
"My Lords, is this boy Aranethon, have you finally found your son? He looks like he came off worse in a fight with a horde of orcs!" Beri yelled out, wondering what happened to the poor boy. The boy truly did look like death warmed over; his face looked like a raw steak and his body was almost entirely black and blue.
"Yes Beri, he is our son, now we need your help in healing both his body and mind. We think who ever kidnapped him has been controlling his mind to make him more obedient." Sauron told the young elf, while stripping his son so Beri could have easier access if she needed it. Although as soon as the 'clothes' came off, he was filled with a rage that made the fires of Mount Doom seem like an enraged snail having a tantrum. His son's body painted almost entirely black and blue from the bruises, all in various stages of healing, but one could still see that they held the shape of human hands.
For the next half hour or so talking between the Lords of middle earth and Beri kept to minimum and they played orderlies, getting her what she required from wherever it was. For the most part, they watched in silence as their son's true body came into being, seeing his elvish features appearing for the first time. Just finishing taking care of the physical side of the healing took the better part of an hour, and then came the comparatively hard part.
As the mind control was of a magical sort, her elven healing methods would have only a limited effect, and past that her Lords would have to convince their son that they were speaking the truth. Although, that would be problematical, because Harry had told to hate everything of the dark side, and to beware of the many forms that evil could take. Moreover, being kidnapped from his 'relatives' house in the middle of the night was one thing that could definitely qualify a person as evil, or at least as not lily-white.
When Harry woke up, the first thing he did was to try to figure out whether the events of last night had been a dream. However, just when he had almost convinced himself that they were and that he just needed some deep psychoanalysis, he heard one of the voices from the night before, and all hell broke loose. Then he started screaming, mostly about why they had done this, can't you speak English, and about a dozen other things, but few of them were very relevant to his situation.
Now, as you can imagine, the language barrier made both the explanation and interrogation more than a little difficult. Hell, just skip right on past difficult, stop at devilishly and mind numbingly difficult, where the level of difficulty would be more appropriate and closer to the mark. It was like a Frenchmen who can only speak French interrogating a Swahili peasant who can speak only Swahili about the advancement of nuclear fusion research in the last twenty years by Tibetan monks; and all of this is going on without an interpreter. Harry desperately wished for something like a Babel fish or that nifty translator thing on Star Trek, hell, at this point he would settle for English subtitles to appear near the bottom of his vision.
Just as he was thinking that, he noticed something about his vision; that it was perfect, and he knew he most certainly did not have his glasses on. It was better than perfect in fact, and most likely light years better than any human eyes could produce, even with the best possible genetics. When he got to thinking about that, he noticed that many other things about his body had changed, his eyesight being one of the smaller changes. He noticed that his hair had grown, an anomaly in of itself, and it had grown by almost two feet, and in a single night that is strictly impossible.
He also noticed that he was taller than he was only a few hours before, although this was not so much disturbing as it was a godsend. Before he had barely broken five feet, but now he guessed that he could easily be six foot two, if not more. However, even though this should have caused his center of gravity to be somewhat higher, and his balance and coordination to suffer greatly, he was as graceful as a ballet dancer was in his new body. Perhaps the most striking thing, at least to Harry anyway, was how his body now rippled with muscles that were defined very well. He had never seen any wizards or witches with muscles like his, or anything even close to what he had now; though that could be because most magical folk were simply too used to the instant gratification that magic so readily provides to bother with actually getting something for themselves. It felt like he had liquid steel under his skin, it made him feel powerful, and he felt that he could easily crumple sheets of titanium alloy. He was not stupid enough to try this however, as it would probably result in injured and, more than likely, absolutely destroyed hands, which would be bad, to say the least.
Then came the part of the self-inspection that might have gone better than it actually did, but that course was a very unlikely one and was not to be. Harry had found a mirror, and began looking at his face to see if he could still recognize himself, and one of the first things he noticed was a definite change in a certain part of his anatomy, more specifically his ears. At first, he wondered whether he was seeing things, but when he felt the point his heart rate skyrocketed and the adrenaline floodgates stormed open. Unfortunately, both of these natural and very understandable biological responses resulted in an entirely unwanted result; the fainting of the owner of both the cardio and adrenal systems, in this case Harry.
Up until this point both Legolas and Sauron had just been watching their son explore the changes that they had seen overtake his body while he was unconscious. Now they had to deal with their unconscious son for the second time in less then twelve hours, and they were beginning to see a pattern, which, hopefully, would not continue for very long. They too were utterly bamboozled as to how they could elucidate things to their child and they were coming up with ideas as to how they might be able to do this. Unfortunately, the longer this went on, the more completely nonsensical the ideas became, and the less likely they would work in their favor, and that ran counter to their interests. At one point, they considered having one of the nazgul assist them, but then they thought about how Aranethon would react to seeing something that looked like a herald of death hanging over him. Advantageously for both them and Harry they decided against this course of action, because even though Harry might be able to cope with more than a few shocks, the sight of a dementor-like thing hanging above him might cause him to die of utter fright. Of course, it might just cause him to pass out cold for the third time is so many days, which no one really wanted to happen.
Several hours later after going to the archives, Beri found a partial answer to their communication problems. She had found a record buried deep in the archives at Minas Tirith, which spoke of a traveler from another world who seems to have spoken the same language as the newly arrived Aranethon. The Steward of Gondor, Ecthelion, who'd been told by one of the istari that this man would shape the futures of countless millions, had met the visitor, he had even made a translation table of some common words, and phrases present in the traveler's bizarre language. Although the list was far from a comprehensive record, it would at least allow them to make some basic communication, and in the document, there was a reference made to a history of the lore of Middle Earth, which the traveler had seemed particularly interested in. Finally, the document listed the names of some the elves that had helped translate the traveler's questions and answers, although this was not much help. Most of the elves on the list either had gone to the Grey Havens or had disappeared into the wild places of the world, so they were all right out unless they somehow someone found one of them in the next year or so. She hoped for her lords' sanity, and her own, which was much more valuable, that Aranethon was a quick learner, otherwise she might give her two weeks notice.
A/N: I have gone about as far as I can without assistance. I will freely admit that when I write character dialogue it is bad, so bad that it actually made one person claw out their own eyeballs. I need a collaborator, and who ever is kind and gracious enough to help me will be given due credit. Please help me, otherwise I will probably have the language difficulties go on for several chapters more, and I doubt anybody here wants that.
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