The Matters of Destiny

Reading Time: 137 Minutes

Title: The Matters of Destiny
Series: Small Magic
Series Order: 2
Author: Keira Marcos
Fandom: The Hobbit, Harry Potter
Relationships: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger, Thorin Oakenshield/Bilbo Baggins, Fíli/OFC, Kíli/OMC, Dís/OMC, OMC/OMC, OMC/OFC,|
Genre: Adventure, Crossover, Mpreg, Cabbage Patch Babies, Alternate Universe, Dimensional Travel, Romance, Fusion
Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Bashing, Grammarly Beta, Character Death (no mains), Discussion-War, Discussion-Torture, Politics of the Middle Earth Variety, Grammarly Beta
Word Count: 34,371
Author’s Note: There may be a significant amount of head-hopping in this. I tried to fix it but…I got lazy. Also, I’m incredibly jaded. I have no respect for canon, timelines, or even LOTR geography. Don’t get twisted.
Summary: The company moves toward Erebor, and Hermione adjusts to Arda better than Harry expected.

* * * *

Hermione was by the fire frying eggs in a large iron skillet when Harry woke. Bombur, the dwarf obviously in charge of cooking for the trip, was seated on the opposite side cooking sausages and watching Hermione flip eggs with magic.

“Where did you get eggs?”

“In my food storage,” Hermione said and turned to look at him. “You look tired. Your ada said you took four restorative potions after you exited the portal. Shouldn’t you be a little more…robust after that?”

“I chain apparated a bunch yesterday when I was settling some of his affairs in the Shire, but I’m fine,” Harry said as he stood and stretched.

Hermione whistled and Harry noted with some amusement that all the dwarrow who were eating held out their plates. She flicked eggs out of the skillet across the camp to various plates and added six more to the pan. “You’re the last to eat. I have some scones in my pouch, if you’d like.”

“I have some as well. Lenore apparently likes to pack food for the end of the world, but I’d prefer a sandwich.”

“Oh…hmmm.” She opened up her pouch, rummaged through it, and withdrew a loaf of bread wrapped in parchment paper.

“Where’s Ada?” Harry asked with a frown.

“Oh, he went off with the hot one…I have no clue where.” She waved a hand and shrugged.

“The hot one?” Harry repeated and noted that Oakenshield was the only one missing. “You think that old dwarf is hot?”

“Yeah, like burning. Wow.” Hermione grinned and fanned her face when he huffed. “I need you to perform a language transference spell for me, by the way. I don’t have time to learn the language the way I’d like, and the lack of communication skills could be dangerous. The big bald one drew his weapon on me when I pulled my wand out to make eggs.”

Harry frowned and focused on Dwalin then asked in Westron, “You drew your war hammer on her?”

“Nay, but she took out her wand, so I thought there was some kind of trouble. I had no idea she was going to cook with it. I scared her though.” Dwalin frowned back at him. “I don’t pick fights I can’t win.”

He turned to her with a little laugh. “He thought you were drawing your wand like a weapon. He said he wouldn’t pick a fight he couldn’t win.”

“Ah, well,” she nodded, then shrugged. “True. I’m nothing to trifle with when I have plenty of room to move.”

Harry considered that and nodded, because not a single one of them would be a match against Hermione unless they took her completely off guard.

He focused on Dwalin. “Where did Oakenshield and Ada go?”

“Bilbo wanted to pick those blueberries we saw last night and Thorin offered to go with him,” Balin said and shrugged. “You know, for security purposes.”

Harry exhaled slowly. “Since when do kings stand guard?”

Dwalin snorted.

“Right.” Harry grimaced. “That’s…what on Arda could they possibly have in common?”

Balin laughed. “Why don’t you ask a question we can answer?”

“Your ada is really pretty,” Fíli blurted out. “Like a flower or something and apparently Uncle likes that.”

“Apparently,” Harry said dryly and took a plate of sausage when Bombur offered it. Hermione took it out of his hand before he could draw his knife out of his bracelet. She sliced the sausage, layered it on the bread she’d toasted with three eggs and a slice of thin pale cheese. “You don’t have to wait on me, you know.”

“I know.” She retreated from the fire with her own plate after she’d handed his back. “The translation spell.”

“It’s a brute force option and you’ll certainly get a headache.”

“I can handle a headache. I’ll take a pain potion after I eat.”

“Okay. I don’t want to hurt you with this, but the language barrier is too dangerous in our current circumstances.”

“I’ll be more careful about it in the future.” She flushed. “It’s just the only way I can cook is with magic and I offered them food our world when your ada was still here. They were excited to eat foreign eggs. Molly taught me and Ginny, you see. There is no telling what would happen if I tried to use traditional methods.”

Harry smiled. “Maybe we can work on that later.” He glanced up from his food as his Ada and the dwarf king returned from berry picking. They didn’t look like they’d been making out in the bushes, but he glared at Oakenshield briefly for the hell of it.

“Can you store my berries in your bracelet, so they don’t get ruined?” Bilbo asked as he sat down next to his son with a large piece of tree bark he’d used as a basket.

“Sure.” Harry was mentally reviewing what he had in his bracelet that would work best for storing the berries. Finally, he flicked out a little sack that held a few shortbread biscuits. He’d eaten most of them in the Shire when he’d been running errands.

He pulled out the biscuits and handed the sack to his father. “I stopped in and had a conversation with Hobson and Hamfast about Bag End and the garden. I told them to harvest whatever food was there for their own tables because we wouldn’t be back in time to use it and it would be a waste to let it rot.” He put the biscuits in his cloak pocket for later with a little charm to keep them from getting broken.

Bilbo nodded and folded the sack close before handing it to Harry. “We’ll make blueberry pancakes later.”

“Sounds good,” Harry agreed then he turned to Oakenshield, who was rolling up his bedroll. “I need to perform a spell on Hermione to fix her language issue—which could be dangerous for her if Ada and I aren’t around to translate for her. I know the dwarrow have a secret language that outsiders aren’t allowed to learn.”

“Yes.” Thorin frowned. “Do you know our language, Hadrian?”

“I learned a variant of Khuzdul from the dverger on my world—they’re a magical species that are certainly a variation of your people on their world. I was taught the language in order to further my education regarding runic magic. The reason I’m telling you this is that when I perform this spell, she’s going to gain all of my language skills.”

“So, you learned Cirth?” Balin questioned.

“Chieftain Ragnok called it Certhas Daeron and I realized soon enough that it was very similar to the base language that the dwarrow on Arda used to create Khuzdul due to documents and books I’ve seen in Lord Elrond’s library. I just wanted you to be aware that we’ll both have a rudimentary knowledge. Language is a living thing so I can assume that over the generations that the Khuzdul you speak isn’t exactly like it was when it was first created.”

“The king decides if an outsider may learn Khuzdul,” Thorin said. “This Chieftain that trained you on your world—he is their leader?”

“Yes, the dverger Horde had a population just over a hundred thousand and he is the chieftain over all the clans. There are three classes of dverger on my world—warrior, scholar, and the crafters. In the interest of full disclosure, I could put the thirteen of you in a room with the warrior class of dverger and no one would know the difference based on physical appearance alone.”

“I want to know everything about them,” Balin said gravely. “One day, we’ll sit down and I’ll interrogate you properly.”

Harry nodded. “Sounds…reasonable, I guess.”

“Chieftain Ragnok’s judgment on this matter suits me,” Thorin said. “And I have no protest to offer on you using magic to give your witch your language skills. She’s at risk without at least knowing Westron.”

“She’s not actually my witch, you know,” Harry said. “We’re still working things out and I don’t want to be…just the choice she makes because she has no other options.”

Oakenshield raised an eyebrow. “She left behind her world for you, lad, don’t be daft.”

Harry frowned at the laughs that earned the dwarf king. “Right, well, I just don’t want to make any sort of claim on her without her permission. It would be inappropriate.” He turned to Hermione who was staring at him. “What?”

“It’s killing me that I don’t know what is being said so come do the spell, right now, before I explode from curiosity.”

“Were you always so bossy?”

“Always,” Hermione agreed as he sat down in front of her. “My parents, bless them, had no idea what to do with me.”

“You’ll learn the languages in the order I learned them,” Harry explained. “Westron, Hobbitish, Quenya, Sindarin, English, and finally Certhas Daeron which is a variant of Khuzdul which you mustn’t speak or acknowledge that you can read outside of these thirteen dwarrow. It would be dangerous as they consider their language a secret. Westron is the common language, and you’ll rarely encounter a sentient creature on Arda who can’t speak it—including orcs—so it’s the one you’ll use the most.”

“Understood. Don’t piss off the little guys with the big weapons.”

“You’re barely over five feet yourself,” Harry reminded.

“I’m five foot, two inches!” Hermione exclaimed and pulled a pain potion out of her bracelet. She downed it and stored the vial. “Come on, Potter, show me some magic.”

Harry drew his wand and caught her chin in a gentle grip. “Try to stay still. Eyes open. Remember this is a form of Legilimency. Donum verbis.” Light blue magic poured out of his wand and enveloped her face. He held the spell for nearly ten minutes and when it ended, her eyes fluttered shut and she shuddered. “Okay?”

She opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Hobbits have twenty-two different words to describe meals?”

Harry laughed. “Food is important to them. Hobbitish is most often used in the Shire to speak of cooking, meals, family recipes and the like and, of course, for secret names.”

“Secret names?” Fíli asked.

“Hobbits have a public name in Westron and another name in Hobbitish that is only for other hobbits,” Bilbo explained then focused on Harry. “Ready?”

“We’re good,” Harry said as he rolled to his feet and offered Hermione his hand then pulled her carefully from the ground. “Is the pain potion working?”

“There’s a dull ache,” Hermione admitted and scrunched up her face briefly then stretched her arms over her head. “Now, where are we going anyway?”

“To Erebor to fight a dragon,” Harry said and watched her mouth drop open in shock.

“Are you fucking with me?” Hermione demanded.

Harry snorted at his Ada’s outraged gasp. “Not in front of all these people, no, and I’m totally serious. Also, I think a pack of orcs is hunting them.”

“I can’t leave you alone for even a couple of days, Harry Potter,” Hermione muttered and drew her wand as the dwarrow started mounting their ponies. She vanished the fire and cleaned the whole area with a few spells, erasing any trace of their presence. “Have you spelled the horses not to leave tracks?”

“No.”

“Your operational security is a little lax. It’s like you forgot all the lessons you learned during the war.” she said with a frown and stalked off toward the path. “Come here and get rid of the tracks as far back as you can and I’ll take care of the animals.”

Harry offered her a little salute and went to do as instructed. When he returned he helped her put the spells on ponies.

After they were done, he swung up on to his horse and stared at her. “You might want to change out of that dress.” He summoned his obsidian rune stones and stored them as she walked across the empty campsite and disappeared behind a large tree.

Hermione came out in just under two minutes swinging her cloak over her shoulders. She traded her dress for a pair of black dragonhide leggings and a dark green tunic. “Better?”

“Much. Did you bring the rest of your armor? Because I don’t think I have anything in my stores that will fit you. I have hide so we could make it.”

“I have all of my gear from the war,” Hermione admitted as Harry offered her hand. She put her booted foot on his and hitched up behind him with a little jump. “So, yes, I have my armor—long coat, waistcoat, and four pairs of dragonhide leggings.”

“You’re wearing the hide of a dragon?” Dwalin asked flatly as they started to move.

“Yes, I also have a cloak made out of basilisk skin, which is a magical creature that has an impenetrable skin. Harry killed it and he gave me enough skin for a cloak and these boots.” She swung her foot a little. “He had to stab it through the mouth to kill it because even with magically enhanced weapons we couldn’t get through her skin while she was alive.

“The skin is difficult to work with, but it can be shaped and sewn after its removed. Of course, that means it’s not as tough as it was when it was on a living basilisk, but I doubt there is a weapon on Arda that could penetrate it.”

Harry moved out in front of the group when Oakenshield waved a hand at him to do so.

“I need a list of things that will kill me,” Hermione said unceremoniously.

“What?” Harry asked in amusement.

“You know—like orcs. I should kill them first, right? And not wait to ascertain their intentions? What does an orc look like?”

“Kind of like a troll from Earth actually but not as big—sort of squat with yellow or brownish skin. They have fangs and very long arms. They’re deceptively smart and capable of mining and construction. They make their own weapons and tools, so you’ll never see them barter or attempt to trade. They’ll steal anything they want, including entire settlements and mining communities. And yes, you should kill an orc on sight.”

“Trolls are huge here—kill them. They’ll try to eat you,” Kíli said cheerfully.

“Wargs are a four-legged animal that are often in the company of orcs. They’re four times your size, and you should kill them, too,” Oakenshield offered.

“We have giant spiders here,” Dwalin said. “You’ll want to kill those.”

“Oh, we had giant spiders at home. Their silk was useful and hard to come by near the end of the war,” Hermione said. “Do you have wolves?”

“Yes, and they’re man eaters—not like on Earth when one is more likely to run from you if given a choice,” Harry said. “We have a species of giant eagle—they’re not normally dangerous but if you encounter one, treat it with the utmost respect. They hold a grudge and will pass on any unkindness to their nest mates. There are oliphaunts which is a variety of elephant though much larger than anything you’ve ever seen on Earth. They’re used in war by the Haradrim so if you see one with a human on it—kill the rider first. The creature will wander away unless you’re in the midst of a battle.”

“So, the Haradrim are bad people?”

“They are allied with Mordor and Sauron,” Harry said. “They could be under his thrall or acting of their own accord due to bad blood between them and Gondor. You shouldn’t trust one. It’s honestly best to avoid humans on this world as they’re really no different than Muggles on yours. They offer the maiar a certain amount of respect, but even that is couched with suspicion and fear. They won’t react well to either of us at first meeting if they know what we are. I’m not saying you should hide your magic, but it might not be wise to display it prominently until you understand the situation.”

“Arwen gave you a set of history books in apology for injuring you, they’re in Harry’s bracelet,” Bilbo said. “The texts are illustrated.”

“Great.” Hermione offered him a smile. “I’ll look at them this evening.”

“Are you ready to tell me how you got here?” Harry questioned.

“Do you promise not to get super mad, build another portal, and go kill them all?” Hermione questioned.

“No, I do not,” Harry immediately answered. “I’d never make such a ridiculous promise.”

She laughed and leaned against his back. “It’s terrible, really. I was at the ministry when I received your letter. Dumbledore was reporting you missing to the DMLE and insisting they launch a manhunt for you since you’d probably been kidnapped by Death Eaters or something.”

“Amelia Bones already knew I was gone. Ragnok said he would report my departure to ministry.”

“Well, Dumbledore wasn’t giving her much room to say anything because Shacklebolt was refusing to use ministry resources to look for you because at that point you’d only been gone about five hours. The owl from the bank came through the window of Bones’ office and dropped the letter in my lap. I read it and just sort of…had a complete meltdown. There was no hiding it and in my upset, Dumbledore managed to get the letter away from me.

“He immediately interrogated me like I was a hostage about our relationship and about your plans. He was furious that I’d never told him what you said about returning to Arda after the war was over. Then he decided that I would retrieve you, using your feelings for me to lure you back to Earth. He gave the letter back to me so I could use it to get access to the portal. They followed me to the bank, but Ragnok separated me from them as soon as he could.

“I explained what had happened and what Dumbledore wanted me to do. Ragnok was furious, of course, and offered to have a hundred-year fiscal rebellion. I agreed that it would be an appropriate response to the breach of his trust.”

Harry laughed. “Hermione.”

“At any rate, I told him that I wanted to go through the portal, and he said it would be a one way trip because the return pathway was dangerously unstable. We agreed, after much discussion, that I would destroy the portal on my way through. Then, I used polyjuice to leave the bank so I could do some shopping and go pack all of my stuff. I had to use a time-turner repeatedly to get it all done.

“It took nearly a day for the Horde to set up the portal for another trip because it was falling apart on their end. Ragnok let the whole bloody Order of the Phoenix into the chamber where the portal was being housed in the bank. Dumbledore looked so damned pleased by my success in fooling the Chieftain. I went to the portal, threw my engagement ring over my shoulder, and stepped through. The last thing I heard was Ron screaming my name.”

“He was on board with the plan then?”

“He pre-emptively forgave me for sleeping with you,” Hermione said crossly.

“Well, that’s good to know but what about the rest of the company?” Kíli asked and laughed when she turned to gape at him. “We were all cuddled pretty close by the fire last night.”

She laughed. “Cute. Harry, you realize that you didn’t tell me any of their names, right?”

“Oh.” Harry laughed. “Sorry. Everyone this is Hermione Jane Dagworth-Granger, the Baroness of Raven. Ada do the introductions, please. I might foul it up.”

Hermione turned and Bilbo pointed to each member of the company as he said their names. “It’s a pleasure.”

“The Baroness of Raven,” Bilbo repeated. “Is that some kind of noble title on your world?”

“Yes, though it would only be recognized in the magical half of my world. Among the non-magicals, a woman can’t inherit a family title. My grandfather was the last baron as my father wasn’t magical and couldn’t inherit the title. When I entered the magical world to begin my education, I claimed the estate and title to protect myself. I had no other magical family, so I wanted the financial and social status that comes with a noble title on our world. The dverger Horde managed such things and with their support, I was granted much more expansive legal protections. Witches have few rights on their own, you see, so I had to defend myself starting at a very early age.”

“How early?” Oakenshield asked roughly.

“I turned twelve the year I started magical school. My parents weren’t allowed to know where I was going to school and communicating with them was difficult since they weren’t magical. But the dverger are uniquely protective of children—especially female children—and I had the patronage of the Chieftain. There was only one attempt to manipulate me, and it was a financial ploy, which was quickly discovered and dealt with. It was the only method anyone had of trying to take advantage of me because I wear a special piece of magical jewelry that defended me physically from undesired attention.”

“I don’t understand, you were a little girl,” Bilbo stated. “What would they have done without that magical jewelry?”

“The single best way to gain control of me and my assets would’ve been a marriage and the only way to force a witch to marry you on my world is through an out of wedlock pregnancy. Witches on my world are often fertile as young as eleven though the age of consent is sixteen. Still, several little boys my age came to school with orders to become as intimately involved with me as they could in order to gain control of my grandfather’s estate.”

“Force? Who would force such an intimacy with anyone much less a child?” Bilbo questioned in bewilderment.

“Such crimes are not uncommon in the human settlements,” Thorin said.

Harry frowned. “Honestly, Hermione, just kill anything taller than you that isn’t an elf.”

“Ha, so far the biggest threat I’ve faced since I got here was an elf.”

“Could they create another portal?” Bilbo questioned. “To retrieve either of you?”

Harry frowned. “I don’t think Dumbledore’s people would attempt it. He feared the magic my parents created so much that he wouldn’t even approach their home, which is why the Horde was able to retrieve the open end of the portal and hide it from them. In fact, they didn’t even know the portal was still active until my return was announced.”

“You should probably kill elves, too,” Thorin said suddenly. “Just to be safe.”

Harry laughed and Bilbo puffed up in outrage.

“Thorin!”

Oakenshield shrugged. “I’ve not had good experiences with elves. She’s not had good experiences with elves. There is a precedence.”

* * * *

Traveling all day on horse back was not for the faint of heart, Harry thought as the camp settled down. The day had gone smoothly, and the evening meal had been filling so there was at least that. They’d both taken mild pain potions after eating due to being saddle sore. He hoped to get use to it sooner rather than later.

The rest of the company had clearly faired much easier on that front, which was a relief as he wasn’t certain the pain potions they had would work well on dwarrow. His medical knowledge on the species came entirely from the ones he’d dealt with Earth, and it would be unwise to take for granted that they were the same.

“How long is the day here?” Hermione questioned as she folded her legs together in front of her on her bedroll.

“The same as Earth.” Harry sprawled out on his own bedroll and stared at the darkening sky. The dwarrow were settling down around them, under the shelter spell he’d cast. They were half-way through the Misty Mountains based on what he remembered from the maps he’d seen in the past. “We’re on a different a version of Earth.” He turned his head so he could see her face.

“We….” She frowned. “But the stars are different.”

“Yes, because we’re tens of thousands of years in the past of this version of Earth, which in this age is called Arda.”

“But not the past of our original world?”

“No, I’m entirely positive about that, but we are on a very similar version of the same planet. Not all of the continents have separated on this world.”

“Holy….” She took a deep breath. “Your thoughts on the geography then?”

“I think the Shire is basically what became Ireland and we’re currently in what became the Alps. The land mass isn’t exactly the same but it’s close.”

“I can’t even wrap my head around that,” Hermione confessed. “I’d like to study the maps later. Do you think the continents will eventually separate here?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said honestly. “Eru’s influence over this world and the various peoples who populate has changed Arda in many ways. I can’t say for certain he hasn’t also influenced the land structures as well.”

“So, they are dverger,” Hermione said and looked around the camp where the dwarrow were spread around them—each content with their own projects and making every appearance of ignoring their conversation. “Why don’t they have the magical abilities?”

“The warrior class of the dverger weren’t as magical as the scholar class which appear to be extinct on this world,” Harry said quietly. “Perhaps they were never born here and as a result only small magics remain among the dwarrow.”

Hermione nodded. “You’re worried.”

“Very,” Harry murmured and drew out all the books his father had given him as he sat up then put them in two piles. “The smaller pile are language books that you really don’t need. The larger pile is the history of Arda. Ada, would you come help her sort through them and find illustrations? I don’t want her to hesitate when it comes to orcs.”

“I’ll help as well,” Ori settled down in front of Hermione and took the book that Bilbo offered. “Did you have dangerous creatures on your world?”

“Yes, but we used magic to control many of them. Though learning to do that was difficult for our ancestors,” Hermione said as she paged through the book she’d picked up. “The more dangerous creatures— like dragons and the nundu—were in preserves where they could be monitored and protected.”

She looked up at the silence that followed that statement. “We had to use brute force magic to manage the dragons. It’s a very special endeavor and not all magical people can do the work. The nundu is a feline creature with toxic breath that could kill entire villages. It would take about a hundred wizards of average power to subdue one.” She paused. “Or about ten of Harry’s magical power. Our dragons could be subdued by a team of ten dragon keepers working together.”

“What’s a dragon keeper?” Ori asked in a near whisper, his eyes wide with shock.

“A wizard who dedicates their life to the study and preservation of the dragons. Most dragon keepers were actually magizoologists who specialize in dragons. I have a book in my personal library about the beasts and creatures of our world. I can show you later. My bracelet is a bit of a mess since I packed rather quickly with no care for organization.”

“Did you want me to help with that?” Harry asked as he pulled out the quill Fíli had made him and started to push his magic into it.

“No, I have trunks to organize, and I just went to New York, walked into the biggest magical bookstore and accio’d everything I didn’t already own.” She blushed when he laughed. “Then I went into a Muggle bookstore and did it again from a protected magical area. Ragnok’s people helped me with a few other things. Plus, I have our field tent.”

Harry frowned. “You have the tent and I’m sleeping outside?”

“Yes, Harry, I have a tent that only you and I can actually see and enter,” Hermione said with a huff. “We’re going to have to deconstruct the protections and recast them. I’ll work on it tomorrow while we travel but it’ll take some effort to tear out the security and only I can do it.”

“How big is the tent?” Bilbo questioned.

“It’ll sleep twenty,” Harry said. “It has a kitchen, a community shower area, and three full private baths. She designed it for the war.”

Hermione looked up and found everyone staring at her. “What? I like to be comfortable and besides I had no idea what kind of situation I was going to be in or how long it would take me to find Harry. I needed a safe, ready-made shelter. I already had the tent made so it was one less thing to buy.”

After dinner, Harry pulled the bolt of mokeskin he had out of his bracelet and used his wand to cut fifteen five by ten inch pieces. The actual sewing took no time at all, so he did that first using his wand to triple stitch each pouch before creating a draw string closer for each. He used strips of basilisk hide to create straps long enough to go over the shoulder and across the body of everyone. The strap would adjust to fit automatically thanks to the rune he’d spelled into the leather.

“Need help with the spells?” Hermione questioned.

“Dimensional, security, fortification, organization, preservation,” Harry murmured. “Anything else?”

“Water resistance—otherwise it’ll end up storing the water it would absorb if it got wet, which could destroy some of the items that would also be stored.”

“These little bags will hold everything in my pack?” Bilbo asked, clearly skeptical.

“Yes, and then some,” Hermione said. “They’ll be personalized to only work for you so no one can remove something from your bag that you put in it.” She turned to Harry. “You have an extra one.”

“One is for the rations and general supplies that are currently being carried on one of the ponies. It’ll be open to everyone’s use.”

“How much will it really hold? Is there a weight limit? Will it be heavy?” Glóin asked curiously.

“It’s essentially bottomless and it’ll be weightless since everything is really stored in a dimensional charm. The bag is just for structure,” Harry said off-hand as he worked. “But the organization of the bag depends on you. If you stick something in it and forget that it’s in the bag—you’ll never know it’s in the bag unless you think to search for it. In fact, when you open the bag you’ll only see exactly what you’re looking for and nothing else. If you stick six swords in it and think about a sword—you’ll see all six, so you’ll want to give your weapons specific names.”

“How big of an item could be put in the pouch?” Bilbo asked.

“I put an unconscious troll in one before—he was around eight feet tall,” Hermione admitted.

“Why did you want to keep a troll?” Dwalin asked.

“Oh, I sent him to someone else as a present—he tore down her house.” She smiled. “I watched from a distance. It was honestly one of the more satisfying moments of my life.”

“Who?” Harry asked.

“Umbridge,” Hermione answered as she used her wand to brand a rune into the bottom of the bag before turning it right side out. She looked up and found him staring at her in shock. “What? She tried to torture you, Harry. That kind of terrible behavior can’t be allowed to go unpunished. Stop looking at me like that—everyone has to have a hobby and revenge is mine.”

“If you were younger I’d adopt you,” Dwalin told her and grinned when she laughed.

“Okay, who’s first?” Harry asked as he finished a bag and shared a look with Hermione when they all hesitated. “Ada?”

“Yes, of course,” Bilbo said and took a deep breath. “What do I do?”

Harry stood and walked to his father. “Your small magic will allow you to bond this to you personally.” He offered the bag. “Take it in both hands and declare it yours. The security spell we’ve put in it will respond and mate with the magic you carry.”

Bilbo took the small bag in his hands and glanced briefly around the camp before speaking. “This bag belongs to me.” It glowed briefly in his hand.

“Okay, now offer Master Oakenshield the bag.”

Bilbo held the bag out to the dwarf king and Thorin accepted it hesitantly.

“Now, think to yourself—I want my bag.”

The bag shimmered out of Thorin’s hand and reappeared in Bilbo’s.

“That’s amazing,” Bilbo said. “Like I did magic.”

“You did do magic,” Harry explained. “I’m unsure if any of you have enough magic to use a focus like a wand, but you’re all capable of some small magics. Hobbits use that magic to grow things. Dwarrow focus their innate magic on their crafts. No one can take the bag from you by force and if someone tries they’ll be repelled. The more violent their efforts, the more violently they will be propelled.”

“Could you put such magic on our weapons?” Thorin asked curiously.

“Yes, and that’s a great idea,” Hermione said. “A security spell would essentially add another feature to your weapon.” She turned to Harry. “We’d have to be careful because the intent charms on weapons would have to ignore their own aggression.”

“Granted,” Harry said. “We’ll have to do some testing.”

By the time a meal was put together, everyone had bags. Kíli had been the first to embrace the dumping of his belongings into the bag, but the others soon followed suit. After eating, Harry tailored the group bag for the supplies and handed it over to the king because he figured who would carry it was his choice more than any other. He worked with his quill until everyone started to bed down for the evening then he volunteered to take the first watch. It was heartening that none of the dwarrow seemed concerned by Oakenshield’s agreement.

Harry settled down in a good place to keep watch over everyone and the areas of concern. Hermione joined him without asking, and it was relieving that she felt welcome to do so. She leaned against the tree beside him and took a deep breath.

“Are you upset that I’m here?” Hermione asked.

“Yes and no,” Harry admitted. “Arda is dangerous—far more dangerous than our home world. You’ve left behind a society that would’ve challenged your mind your entire life. I feel as if you’ve given up too much to protect me from their ridiculous plotting. I don’t know how to accept the sacrifice you’ve made for me, Hermione. I really don’t.”

She took a deep breath and looked upward. “The first time I saw you—I was so overwhelmed I thought I might cry. I tried to pass it off as relief because your arrival meant that the prophecy could be met and that Tom Riddle wouldn’t prevail. The war had been going on for nearly five years at that point.”

Harry nodded. “It wasn’t relief?”

“Merlin, no,” Hermione said with a small laugh. “I have to admit that at first it was entirely physical. I’d never met anyone as genuinely attractive as you are and your magic seemed to shimmer on your skin. You were fascinating and finding out that you’d been living in another dimension since 1981 didn’t lessen that fascination at all. It was such an honor when you accepted my friendship and confided in me. I worked so hard to keep your trust and it wasn’t always easy because you were so leery of everyone.

“It didn’t help at all, of course, that you were right to be worried about their motivations because there were precious few who didn’t have some kind of agenda that would’ve never served you.” She bit down on her lip. “Dumbledore had a plan for you that involved a certain kind of relationship, you see, and it was made clear to practically every witch allowed near you that we were not to engage in any sort of romantic relationship with you.”

Harry huffed. “Wow.”

“I know,” Hermione said. “And I almost told you a dozen times, but I was walking a hard line, and I realized after we came out of the time chamber that Dumbledore was prepared to do some pretty ugly things to get his way. I came to fear him.” She turned to him. “You and Cho Chang were lovers.”

Harry flushed. “Yes, well, she made herself available and I was lonely. She wasn’t who really wanted but you’d renewed your relationship with that tosser again and….” He trailed off and shrugged.

“Harry, I think Dumbledore had her killed,” Hermione said quietly and flushed when he turned to stare at her in horror.

“She was killed by a Death Eater,” Harry said.

“Yeah, on a mission Dumbledore planned and led himself. He went into the field exactly four times during the course of the war outside of major conflicts that involved everyone. On those four missions, we lost people that had fallen out of favor with the Order of the Phoenix for one reason or another. I didn’t really put it together until Dumbledore was giving me my marching orders regarding what I should do and say once I was here. He made it clear to me that I was to do everything I could to get you to come back and ordered me to ensure that I didn’t get pregnant in my efforts because they’d already decided that you’d be marrying Ginny Weasley.”

Harry made a face. “I can’t stand that girl.”

“Really?” Hermione questioned.

“She’s a shallow, intellectually lazy, immature little coward. I’d have never had any sort of relationship with her of my own freewill. Fortunately, Ragnok regularly monitored me for lust and love potions. Dumbledore wouldn’t have gotten away with forcing that relationship no matter what he thought.” Harry took a deep breath. “This conversation is really annoying. They’re lucky I can’t go back over there without a lot of effort because I’d probably dedicate myself to ruining them.”

“Well, you ruined their plans just by leaving,” Hermione pointed out. “I love you—foolishly and unconditionally.”

The words filled his chest with a strange and beguiling warmth that he’d never felt before. Harry understood love, on a profound level, as he’d grown up surrounded by it. His ada had never, ever left him feeling unloved or unwanted. But still, romantic love was new and exciting to him in a way he’d not really anticipated.

“I’d have a hard time arguing with that considering what you’ve done,” Harry admitted. “Why did you say yes to Ron?”

“It was such an incredibly awkward moment for me,” Hermione said with a huff. “He knew I wouldn’t reject him in front of all of our friends and his family because it would’ve been a terrible scene. He banked on me being kind and even as he was putting that ring on my finger I was trying to figure out how long I’d have to endure the engagement before I could break up with him for good. Ron was never going to be the one I wanted for my whole life, and I thought he realized that. But he was arrogant and selfish—what I wanted was completely unimportant to him, but I’ve always known that about him. He wanted the money from my great grandfather’s estate.”

“What did you do with your assets?”

“I exchanged the coin for precious metals that would be valuable here and told Ragnok to sell my properties and donate the proceeds to the charities of his choice.” She laced her fingers with his and squeezed gently. “And it wasn’t a sacrifice.”

“Hermione.”

“My parents were killed while I was in the time chamber and the rest of my Muggle family barely knew I existed because of the magic I used to hide them all when the war started. By the time I was standing in front of the portal, I realized that I had no friends in the magical world. Every single one of them was completely okay with Dumbledore’s plan to whore me to gain control of you.”

Harry blew out a surprised breath. “Hermione Jane.”

She laughed. “It’s true. Ginny wanted to come by the way. She was positive that she could make you love her.”

Harry groaned. “I would’ve done everything in my power to shore up that fucking portal so I could toss her narrow little ass back through it.”

Hermione turned and buried her face against his shoulder to smother her laughter. “She said once that you were destined to fall in love with her because she looked like your mother.”

“Is that common on Earth?” Harry asked. “Men growing up to marry women who look like their mother? Because it seems weird and unfortunate.”

“No, it’s not common. She’s an idiot, but the moment Ragnok revealed you they all started plotting on how to control you and I didn’t notice because I was too focused on you to pay attention to them.”

“I love you, too, and I’d have stayed there for you,” Harry admitted and his gaze drifted across the camp where his Ada was sleeping, entirely too close to Thorin Oakenshield. “It would’ve been difficult, but I would’ve done it because I could’ve used the portal to communicate with him—to let him know that I’d changed my mind about returning. He would’ve understood.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted that,” Hermione said, her fingers clenched against his. “You shouldn’t have to give up one love to have another, Harry. You’ve already sacrificed so much for Earth, you know, and precious few of those bastards deserved it.” She cleared her throat. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

“I never felt like I was welcome to do so,” Harry admitted. “And I was taught to never press myself emotionally on a potential romantic partner. Honestly, in the Shire, the only time a man makes the first overture is when their intended is also male. It’s considered quite inappropriate to pursue someone romantically that hasn’t invited your attention. And the overture process is very understated.”

“Hmmm, how does that work?”

“Well, the only overture I ever received was from Delia Undertree. She baked my favorite cake and had her mother deliver it to Ada.” Harry frowned and he looked at their hands. “She was very upset when Ada told her that her attention wasn’t welcome, but I was just seventeen and Delia was thirty-three. We were essentially the same age as far as maturity went. But, Ada felt the age gap inappropriate despite the fact that we were both of age by the standards of our own people. The books we had from Earth made it clear that I was an adult, but he felt it wasn’t quite accurate for me because of my circumstances in the Shire.

“After that, he made it known around the Shire that while I was to be considered an adult as far as legal and financial matters were concerned that I was still very much a tween concerning romantic attention. I left the Shire shortly after that to go to Rivendell then eventually returned to Earth.”

“So, an overture isn’t like the family gift you talked about before?”

“An overture is a non-intrusive way to gauge someone’s interest, and I think we pretty much skipped over that entirely. The letter I left you was very naughty by Shire standards.”

Her mouth quirked up slightly. “I think we have different ideas about what a naughty letter would look like.”

Harry laughed softly and wrapped an arm around her. He took a deep breath against her hair. “As much as I worry for your safety here on this world, I’m so happy to have you at my side. It’s a weird place to be mentally.”

“You weren’t safe on Earth, and you never would’ve been. I can’t see how we could’ve had any kind of life together unless we’d left Britain entirely, changed our names and appearances and maybe pretended to be Muggles for the rest of our lives.” She pursed her lips. “The family gift?”

“It’s a matter of status,” Harry admitted roughly. “With my hobbit grandparents, the Baggins family was of a lower status than the Took family so he dedicated a year of his life to building the smial that would become Bag End. He presented it to the head of the Took family to demonstrate that he had the skills and the work ethic to provide Belladonna Took with a proper, gentle life.

“The Old Took accepted the gift and gave it to Belladonna as her bridal gift then declared it the family seat in Hobbiton. The Baggins family had never had a family seat before so you can imagine the excitement that caused for a variety of reasons. Bungo eventually became mayor of Hobbiton after he retired his position as the Farmer for the village.”

“And you never met them?”

“No, they both died shortly before I was brought to the Shire. In fact, Ada was still technically in his mourning period for his mother. Gandalf shouldn’t have visited him at all, but I don’t think he’s very familiar with hobbit traditions like that. Regardless, I hope that in some small way that my intrusion on his life at that point provided a bit of comfort.” He hugged her a little tighter then let his arm drop from her shoulders. “You should sleep.”

“In a minute, are family gifts normally returned that way to the wedded couple?”

“No, not normally, but it was a political maneuver for the Old Took and no offense was meant. Everyone understood exactly what he was doing and apparently it was very clear that Bungo had built Bag End for Belladonna. Everyone expected that they would live in the smial no matter the legal ownership.” He nudged her shoulder with his own. “Sleep, please. Tomorrow will be long.”

“All right fine, I’ll go to sleep.” She stood and stretched a little. “I really hope it doesn’t take long to get used to riding a horse. I’ve not done it ever and only had lessons briefly as a child before I lost interest.”

“It’s been a very long time for me as well.”

Hermione settled down on her bedroll, briefly thought about the tent in her dimensional storage, and resolved to fix it as soon as possible. The others around the camp were in various stages of rest. The brief conversation had done a lot to settle her nerves on the subject to their feelings, but she did wonder how things would go. She didn’t want to be seen as an obligation.

The very thought had her sitting straight up and glaring at Harry where he sat on guard across the came. She crossed her arms and huffed a little then got right back up to walk back across the camp.

“Something wrong?” Harry questioned.

She stared for a moment then blurted out, “I’m not an obligation, Harry Potter.”

He stared for a moment, face shadowed by the canopy of tree he was leaning against. “You’re everything, Hermione. I fought that war for you, and in the end I returned to Arda because I couldn’t watch you make a life and family with another man. It felt like I was severing a limb, but I told myself that you deserved to have the life you wanted. It seemed like you wanted him.”

“Want him?” Hermione huffed and waved both of her hands. “I never even had sex with that ridiculous, selfish fool!”

“That’s a good lass. A selfish fool deserves none of your time,” Oakenshield said wryly from his place by the fire and everyone else muttered their agreement.

Hermione blushed and sighed when Harry laughed a little. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Go to sleep,” Harry said with a grin. “Dwarrow thrive on drama—they’re not going to sleep until you do for fear of missing out.”

Hermione glared at him briefly again, for good measure, then went back to her spot by the fire.

* * * *

The moment the shelter spell was breached Harry woke from his sleep. He sat up and in the moonlight his gaze connected with Dwalin’s who’d taken his place on guard. The dwarf stood and drew his hammer as Harry came to his feet. The shelter spell spread out around them in a rough forty-foot circle. He nudged Oakenshield’s foot with his own as he walked past the dwarf king and managed to knock gently against Balin’s arm as he passed him without having to slow down. Harry drew the sword he’d kept on his back even in sleep. The elven blade wasn’t glowing, which was confusing since he’d expected an orc.

“Something woke you, lad?” Dwalin questioned.

“Something or someone breached the shelter spell.” He looked out into the darkened forest around them. “Maybe a dangerous creature—the spell can tell the difference between a bird and a wolf.”

His gaze drifted across the camp and found that Hermione had woken up. She was standing next to his father’s bedroll, her wand drawn. Her head was tilted and she looked off to her left. Harry started walking toward her because her hearing was far better than his own due to her animagus form. A little creature scurried out of the bushes, muttering to itself. It stopped in the moonlight, focused on Hermione.

“Little girl take my precious,” the creature hissed and the rest of the camp woke. “Gives it back! Gives back my precious! I kills you. Eats you!”

Hermione shifted on her feet and the little thing started toward her at a scurrying run. She pointed her wand and snapped out a spell, “Telum!” A shining silver arrow shot straight out of her wand and hit the creature in the chest. It fell back with a thud, and everyone turned to stare in Hermione in shock. “What? It threatened to eat me, and I have rules on when and how that is allowed.”

“You shot an arrow with your wand,” Kíli said in awe. “That’s amazing.”

Hermione blushed. “Yes, well, it’s conjured so it’ll disappear in a few minutes.”

Harry just shook his head as he walked past her and went to the body. His father followed. “What is it, Ada?”

“I have no….” Bilbo frowned. “He’s got hairy feet.”

“This is no hobbit,” Harry protested his stomach lurching in horror.

“It’s a hobbit?” Hermione demanded as she rushed toward them.

“It doesn’t look like one of my kind,” Bilbo said. “But there is no other creature on Arda with hairy feet that I’m aware of.” He turned to Oakenshield. “You’re the oldest among the dwarrow here. Have you ever seen anything like him?”

“No, and I’ve traveled much of this region looking for work,” Thorin murmured. “I heard rumors once of a thing living in Mirkwood—the description is similar to this creature. The elves there called it Gollum because of the noises he made. They claimed it violent and hostile, but it was no threat to them, so they treated it with a great deal of pity. The creature’s origins are unknown. But surely if it is from Mirkwood then it was never a hobbit.”

“No, I’d think not,” Bilbo said. “Let’s….” He took a deep breath. “Harry, could you bury him? If he was ever anything like a hobbit then he should be returned to the earth as Yavanna intended.”

“Of course, Ada.” Harry started to move, but Hermione grabbed his arm. “What?”

“You can check to see if he has hobbit magic, right?”

“Does it really matter, love? He was dangerous and your actions were just.”

“No, I mean I don’t feel guilty about neutralizing a threat, but if this terrible thing was once a hobbit….” She bit down on her lip. “What could turn a hobbit into something like this?”

Harry grimaced. “That kind of corruption is beyond the scope of….” He trailed off and drew his wand. He cast a diagnostic spell for curse breaking and Hermione exhaled sharply.

“What do you see?” Thorin asked.

“The body is profoundly deformed by the darkest kind of magic—the sort of magic that I never expected to see here on Arda.” He turned. “Hermione, have you picked something up? He seemed to very positive that you had whatever his precious is.”

“No, if I’d found anything that would have this kind of magical impact—I would’ve shown it to you.”

He frowned at her.

“You can check my mind,” she offered immediately. “To make sure. If the object is cursed then it might be intelligent enough to hide even from my conscious mind.”

Harry ended the diagnostic. “Gollum was a hobbit, Ada, but he was hundreds of years old, so I don’t know how long he existed in this form, but his corruption was beyond any help.” He turned and pointed his wand at Hermione. “Legilimens.” He skimmed the surface of her memories and found nothing out of place. He ended the spell and turned to his father. “Ada, have you picked up something since we set up camp?”

His father hesitated.

“Ada?”

“Nothing important,” Bilbo said and waved a hand. “Let’s bury this poor creature before we have breakfast.”

Harry caught his father by the shoulders as he knelt down on one knee. “Ada, what did you pick up?”

“Nothing, Harry, come now.” He tried to pull free.

“You’re lying to me,” Harry said quietly. “Did you put it in your bag?”

Bilbo’s cheeks brightened. “It’s none of your business. Let me go.”

“No, I can’t do that,” Harry’s grip tightened on his father’s shoulders. “You know how dangerous magic is, Ada. Do you want to end up like this terrible creature?”

“It’s just a harmless little ring!” Bilbo exclaimed. “Now let me go.”

Harry a strange fear swelled inside of him and his aura flared. “Give me the fucking ring!”

Bilbo scrambled back, breaking free of Harry’s grip then he held out his shaking hand. His fingers uncurled and a plain gold ring was revealed.

“Hermione, take it from him,” Harry said quietly.

Hermione pulled a small velvet bag from her bracelet and scooped up the ring in it. She tied it off quickly. “It’s very dark.”

“It’s a horcrux,” Harry snapped. “And there is only one creature on this world that could’ve created such a wretched thing and put it in a ring. Is that bag spelled for magical dampening?”

“Yes.” She offered the bag and he took it hesitantly.

Harry stored the small black bag in his bracelet and stood. “I…I need a minute to myself. Would you check him to make sure the ring hasn’t already tainted him? A cleansing spell won’t hurt him, and neither would a plant-based potion. I’ve already verified that with a spell.”

Hermione guided Harry’s father to his bedroll and sat him down. “Okay. I’m going to cast some magic on you—to check to see if the ring has intruded on the magic you carry.”

Bilbo flushed. “I don’t know why I lied….”

“If the ring is what he thinks it is—the influence of one is a darkness the likes of which he’d rather you’d never known,” Hermione said as she pulled her wand. “We encountered them on our world—a horcrux is soul magic and it requires the murder of another magical person.”

She took a deep breath. “Their power is then used to break open the caster’s soul and part of his or her soul would then be put into the object. This object tethers them to them mortal plane. Allowing them to return through magical means. In this world, I think such a thing would allow the owner of the horcrux to defy the will of Eru on such matters as life and death.”

She cast a spell and it flowed over Bilbo like water.

“What….” Thorin trailed off.

“This is his magical aura—a visual representation of his small magics,” Hermione murmured. “As you can see—his aura is largely green which represents his kind’s ability to work with nature.”

“Did that thing hurt him?” Thorin demanded.

“Yes, I’m afraid it has intruded on his magics,” Hermione said and frowned. She glanced over her shoulder in the direction that Harry had walked. He was leaning against a tree nearly a hundred yards away, smoking an herbal. “But we can heal the intrusion. The ring’s power is dark, but it appears to be largely dormant, which is astounding considering how it felt when it was exposed. Even more interesting, I didn’t feel it until I saw it.”

“Why do you think that is?” Dwalin questioned.

“The ring is manipulative and intelligent. It seemed to realize that Master Baggins couldn’t protect it, so it opened itself up in an effort to entice one of us to take it, to keep it.” Hermione ended the charm and pulled a pale blue potion from her bracelet.

“How long did it take to ruin that thing?” Fíli asked, his gaze darting to Gollum’s body.

“Corruption started immediately, obviously, but it probably took many years to mutate him physically,” Hermione said and offered Bilbo the potion. “This potion will help cleanse your magic. It’s not species specific and plant based.” He took the potion and she stood.

“Master Oakenshield, we won’t be able to travel today.” She focused on Thorin. “We’ll need to check over all of you to see how the ring has impacted any of you and we’ll need to construct something to carry the ring in until Harry is in a place magically to destroy it.”

“He can really destroy it?” Bilbo questioned.

“He’s destroyed several on our former world,” Hermione said and encouraged Bilbo to drink the potion. “It is magically expensive and we aren’t in a position to do it right now. He’ll be vulnerable afterward and….” She took a deep breath. “Too vulnerable for us to be traveling as we are.”

“If we can take back Erebor—it’s a fortress,” Thorin said. “I can bring my people there and we’ll stand guard over him after he destroys the ring. Because if it is what I think it is—it is the most dangerous thing any of us will ever see.” He cleared his throat. “We should tell no one about the discovery.”

“Not even Gandalf?” Bilbo questioned.

“Most especially not Gandalf,” Thorin said gravely. “Saruman the White’s corruption is just history repeating itself, Bilbo Baggins. Sauron was once a maia and his fall from grace nearly destroyed us all. I can’t think that Saruman’s fall will be any less devastating.” He looked up as Harry returned to the fire. “Does Gandalf believe that Saruman is a threat?”

“He doesn’t wish to believe it,” Harry said shortly. “He wants to think that Saruman can be turned from the path he’s already on and there is no talking him out of that hopeful place.” He focused on Hermione. “Well?”

“He has a few shadows in his magical aura, and I’ve given him a basic cleansing potion. We can check the results and plan for additional healing, if needed. We need to check them all over—especially the king.” Hermione stood and drew her wand. “I’ll go take care of the body.” She frowned when everyone but Harry started to protest. “Relax, gentlemen, I’m not going to dig around in the dirt or anything so silly as that.”

Harry smiled briefly as she left the sheltered area and used her wand to lift a large amount of earth straight up into the air. It hung there even as she pointed her wand toward the body and levitated it off the ground. The arrow she’d conjured disappeared as she moved the body into the hole then let the dirt drop back down.

Hermione paused then cast a spell that changed the appearance of the ground until it no longer looked like it had been disturbed. She stared at the ground for a long moment then cast a cleansing spell over the entire area before storing her wand with a dainty little flick of her wrist—like she hadn’t just lifted a thousand pounds of dirt right out of the ground.

“Let’s eat, I’m starving then we need to check everyone over and take potions just in case. Also, Harry, why haven’t you removed this axe from his head? What kind of wizard are you? I’ll strip the magic out of the tent today so we can have a better option for sleep, but it’s going to need a new warding stone.” She put her hands on her hips when they all just stood there staring. “Hadrian James Potter.”

Harry held up his hands in surrender. “I need to spend some time studying the injury. I just can’t jerk the damn thing out, you know. It’s impacting his speech center and mental processes. I don’t want to make his situation worse.” He drew his staff, recast the shelter spell and a few security charms. “I need a bigger rune stone than the one I’m using for the shelter spell to create a pocket-shelter for the tent.”

“What’s a pocket-shelter?” Bilbo asked as he glanced between them.

“A magically protected place that can’t be seen by people who are unaware of it,” Hermione said and held out her hands.

Harry just sighed when a ten-pound slab of obsidian appeared in her hands. “Mi, just what did you pack?”

“Everything I might need,” Hermione said primly as he took the stone. “I just went into various shops and summoned anything I might need. I spent all the money you left me and a good portion of my own liquid currency.” She paused. “And I want to talk to you about the money you left me.”

“I don’t,” Harry said and raised an eyebrow when she huffed. “I really don’t and if you really did your shopping that way—your bracelet must be an absolute disaster.”

“It’s all in trunks,” Hermione said and waved a hand even as a small green square of canvas appeared in her hand. “I numbered them. There a hundred.”

“You have a hundred trunks on your bracelet?” Bilbo interjected and they both focused on him.

“One hundred and twenty actually, but the shopping went into the numbered trunks. That’s how I organized myself before I left so I wouldn’t forget how many there were and what was in them. I have an itemized list so it’s not a total nightmare, but I do need to do some organization. I only had about twenty-four hours to prepare and that included my portkey to another country so that I could shop in peace.”

“Where’s Crookshanks?” Harry said as he put the stone down and sat down with it. He drew his quill and several of the dwarrow gathered around him to watch.

“He’s in stasis in his crate,” Hermione said. “In my bracelet. I didn’t want him to get hurt or lost.”

“What’s a Crookshanks?” Thorin interjected as he joined Harry on the ground.

“He’s a magical cat—her familiar,” Harry said. “Ada, how do you feel?”

“I’m fine, Harry.”

“I apologize for yelling,” Harry murmured.

Bilbo patted his arm. “It’s fine.”

“It isn’t; it was disrespectful, no matter the circumstances, so I apologize,” Harry said as he drew the first rune and only relaxed when his father patted his arm again.

“Where are Hedwig and Bryon?” Hermione questioned.

“They’re at Rivendell—I’ve put some fortification magic on them so they can’t travel right now. They’ll join me when they’re ready,” Harry said.

Hermione sat down on her own bedroll and pulled her wand. “Can you put that magic on Crookshanks?”

“Yes, of course, but not while he’s in stasis.” Harry turned to Thorin. “Is there one among you who is handy with a needle.”

“That’d be me, Lad,” Dori said. “I’m a tailor and sewist by trade and a Guild Master. Did you need some sewing done?”

“Yes, but it’s going to require that you work with a magical implement. Does that bother you?”

“Did you make this tool?” Dori asked.

“Yes.”

“Then no, it won’t bother me.” Dori stared at him. “You’re a good sort.”

“How could you know that?” Harry asked in amusement even as he pulled a bolt of glossy black leather out of his bracelet. He set it aside and withdrew a rolled leather pouch.

“I may not know you well, but I’ve had some time to get to know your father,” Dori said. “And I can tell he raised a good man.” He looked at that leather. “Is that dragonskin?”

“No, it’s basilisk which is a large magical snake. It’s essentially puncture proof unless you have special tools.” Harry put the leather roll down, opened it revealing a gleaming pair of tailoring shears and a collection of needles. “I’d like you to use it to make armor for the company. It’s enough for all of the dwarrow here and then some so be generous in covering the torso and legs.”

“Not your father?” Dori asked with a frown.

“I brought a waistcoat and trousers with me to fit him,” Harry said as he continued to carve. The runes he’d finished were already glowing. “I expected that we might do a bit of traveling when I returned as he’s always wanted to see Gondor.”

“You mean the waistcoat he’s wearing right now,” Thorin said.

“Yes, the lining is dragon hide and his trousers are lined similarly. I gave them to him the first night we were in Rivendell. He has several pairs and his cloak, too.”

Dori rolled out a bit of the deceptively thin leather. “This is puncture proof?”

“Try it.”

Nori pulled a knife and shoved it toward the section of leather that Dori had pulled tight between his hands. The knife was deflected and everyone stared.

“It’s immune to blunt force as well.”

“It wouldn’t protect the snake very well if she could’ve taken blunt force trauma,” Harry said in a distracted tone. “I had to shove a sword up through her mouth to get to her brain. It was a nasty bit of business, but I had no choice because the dark wizard I was fighting let it loose on a castle full of children as a distraction.”

“He sounds like a monster,” Bilbo said.

“He was,” Hermione murmured as she hit the tent with a series of deconstruction charms. “There were many like him on Earth—more concerned with power than anything else. When I entered the magical part of our world, I was overwhelmed by their society. It was quaint and lovely compared to my own and I loved it.

“I loved the focus on knowledge and the learning of magic. Their libraries were fascinating and while not everyone was nice they were easy to overlook in favor of the lovely parts. The dverger were especially kind to me and treated with a great gentleness because I was a child.” She looked up briefly as she worked then refocused on her charms when she realized, even Harry, was staring at her.

“It wasn’t until later that I discovered that some magical people hid very dark hearts behind a veneer of politeness. I was just fifteen the first time a wizard asked me to marry him. I’d never met him. I received a letter and a contract offer. He was nearly fifty years old, and I would’ve been his second wife. His first wife could no longer bear children and he only had daughters. He wanted a son and heir—he said I would be a suitable witch to bear him a son. I sent him a very politely worded rejection.”

She paused and frowned. “He sent me a cursed letter in response—if I’d received it the curse would’ve left terrible burns on my face and hands that magic wouldn’t have been able to heal. When Chieftain Ragnok confronted him he said that I deserved the curse because I didn’t know my place.”

“I wish you’d told me this while I was there,” Harry said roughly as he went back to his carving.

“Oh, well, it wouldn’t have mattered, Harry. Ragnok cut off his head for sending me that curse. He set up a trust for the man’s wife and daughters—then gave a me a third of that old git’s estate. I donated it to the magical orphanage.” She flicked another charm at the tent and stretched her neck. “I’m starting to regret not purchasing a new tent. It would’ve been easier than this.”

“I can see a little shadow now,” Bilbo said. “Before it looked like you were casting magic at nothing.”

“Why did you put so much effort into hiding the structure?” Fíli asked as he sat down near her to watch her magic disappear into the shadow.

“It was for Harry,” Hermione said. “It was the only place on Earth he had during the war to retreat, and I wanted to make sure that it safe for him no matter the circumstances.” She flushed at some of the looks she received. “It was so stringent in its protections that half the people on our side couldn’t enter it. Most of them thought it was just their general hostile intent because of the war, but I accounted for that.

“They couldn’t enter the tent because of their hostile intent toward Harry. Not everyone appreciated his arrival on our world and they resented his power—both magical and political.” She paused. “And well, he proved to be completely immune to their machinations which made some people so furious that I feared he’d get cursed in the back as soon as he stopped being useful to them.”

Harry laughed. “What are you on about?”

“You know, like that whole thing with the Weasley family. Ginny treated you like a god, Harry and you barely spared her a glance.”

He made a face and returned his attention to his carving.

“What?”

“I’d rather not say—it would be offensive.”

“Tell me,” she urged. “She’s not here to be offended.”

He sighed and spared a glance toward his father. “I wasn’t entirely certain that Ginny Weasley was female until Ragnok told me she was.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Well, long hair is common on my world, obviously for both males and females. She wore trousers more than dresses. And men wear robes here as well, you see. Even her face shape wasn’t all that different from what I’ve seen amongst the elves both male and female. Flat chested, slim hips—I just didn’t realize she was a girl.”

Hermione’s gaze narrowed. “What about me?”

He laughed. “Do you not remember what you were wearing the first time we met?”

“Not remotely,” she admitted with a little frown.

“That little blue sundress—it was honestly the most risqué thing I’d ever seen a woman wear. Women don’t wear such things in the Shire.” He paused. “Did you bring it?”

“No, I left most of my non-magical clothes behind to save room for stuff that would be helpful and protective. You told me that Arda was dangerous and I believed you. I packed with that in mind.”

“At any rate, it was obvious you were female,” Harry said and returned to his carving. “Even after knowing she was a woman, I didn’t find Ginny appealing at all as I’ve never found males sexually attractive and she wasn’t shaped in a womanly fashion that I grew up expecting. Beyond her boyish physical attributes, she had the personality of a troll. The third time we met, she asked me if I’d visited my family vault in the bank and if I knew exactly how much gold I had.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I hadn’t looked because I didn’t care,” Harry said. “It was obvious she didn’t understand that at all. It was like it hadn’t even crossed her mind that I’d left my home behind and came to a world that was drastically different. The only thing of value I saw in that vault of value were the portraits of my birth parents. The rest of it was meaningless.” He glanced toward the tent. “Good work.”

She looked down at the dark green square which was sitting flat on the ground in front of her. “Yes, well, I set all of that magic so removing it was taxing physically, but not difficult.” She yawned and pulled a potion out of her bracelet then paused as she looked around. “This is a pepper-up potion. It’s like a boost of energy and it will make smoke puff out of my ears briefly.” She took it and Harry grinned when several of the dwarrow jerked back despite her warning.

“Was it magically taxing as well?” Bilbo asked.

“Magical spells impact in us in different based on intent and purpose,” Harry said. “Defensive magic is more magically expensive than offensive magic.  Simple charms for cooking and cleaning are essentially cheap to use because of how we were taught to moderate the magic through a focus object. Speaking of, Mi, you need to fortify your wand.”

“Ragnok took care of it before I left for New York,” Hermione said as she unfolded the tent. A flat black stone was revealed—a soft white light shimmered off of it even in the morning light. She picked it up and offered it to Harry who took it and stored it in his bracelet with a thought.

“What was that stone?” Bombur asked.

“A smaller version of what I’m carving here,” Harry said. “I’m tailoring this one for travel. The tent was stationary on our world, so we set it up once and returned to it as needed. I’m going to need blood from everyone.” He looked up and glanced around. “It’ll be what allows you to see and enter the tent.”

“And only those who have given blood to your stone will be able to enter the tent.” Thorin drew out a pipe as he was released from Dori’s attention.

“A stranger wouldn’t even be able to see it. Gandalf would probably be able to see a magical disturbance because our magic is so different from his own and he spent a lot of time with me over the years. He knows my magical aura very well.”

“And Saruman?” Bilbo questioned.

“I’m going to kill him the next time he comes near me,” Harry said flatly. “So, I hope he’s ready to meet his maker when the day comes.”

“Neither Gandalf nor Elrond will appreciate that position, Harry,” Bilbo warned.

“He’s not a threat to them, currently, but he is to me.” Harry glanced toward Hermione. “And I won’t allow such threats to linger around us. How do you suppose he reacted to the knowledge that there is now a female magus on this world who is child bearing age, Ada?”

Hermione’s eyes darkened and her mouth pressed into a thin line. “What are you saying, Harry? Would he try to take me to….”

“No, the maiar aren’t….” Harry waved a hand and sighed before focusing on his father. “We’re all adults here, right?”

“Kíli is the youngest of us, and yes he’s an adult,” Thorin interjected. “He’s seventy-seven.”

Harry nodded. “The maiar were essentially primordial spirits. They’ve been reincarnated as wizards in this age and while they can father children, they don’t pass their abilities onto off-spring when they mate with non-maiar. I think, but I’m not sure, that in order to create another maiar they must mate in the Undying Lands. Currently, there are only a few here—Saruman the White, and Gandalf the Grey, Radagast the Brown. The Blue Wizards, Alatar and Pallando, travelled east long ago and have yet to return.”

“Are they dead?”

“No one knows.” Harry returned his attention to the stone. “So, no, Saruman wouldn’t be interested in taking you to create a magical child of his own, but he would be very concerned with the potential we have to create such children together.” He paused. “He also might try to take any child we had.”

“It takes the murder of a magical person to create a horcrux,” Hermione said quietly and just raised an eyebrow when Harry focused on her. “Do you suppose this Saruman has learned of such magic from whatever created the ring.”

“It’s the ring of Sauron—the One Ring,” Harry said quietly. “Ada tell her the story of the One Ring.”

Bilbo hesitated but then cleared his throat. “During the Second Age, the Dark Lord Sauron helped to create the Rings of Power—three rings for the Elves, seven for the Dwarrow, and nine rings for leaders of the humans. In secret, Sauron created the One Ring and through it he could control all of the ring bearers. All nineteen lesser rings are linked and essentially powered by the One Ring.

“Sauron tried to subjugate the ring bearers with his ring, and a great war was fought. Isildur, the High King of Gondor, cut off Sauron’s hand in battle and claimed the ring. But the ring corrupted his heart, and he was unable to destroy it. Eventually, the ring betrayed him and was lost in the River Anduin. Isildur was killed by orcs.” Bilbo’s gaze drifted to the area where the body of Gollum was buried. “And it was picked up by a hobbit.”

“I wonder how he lost the ring.”

“Perhaps it left him as it abandoned Isildur,” Harry said. “The ring might have been lured by Ada’s small magics—it’s hungry.”

“Hungry?” Hermione questioned with a frown. “You mean it ate that poor thing’s magic.”

“Yes.”

“The horcruxes on Earth didn’t feed….” She trailed off and frowned. “Perhaps they did, actually. There was one at Hogwarts, as you know, when I was a second year and Ginny had it. She looked exhausted and stressed throughout most of the year, but I hardly knew her, so I didn’t realize the drastic changes in her personality. I don’t think I ever saw anyone else interact regularly with any of the others. I thought it was just a form of possession but perhaps the diary was eating her magic.”

“Ragnok didn’t give me access to them for study. I was only allowed in the room with them when it came time to destroy each one,” Harry said. “You don’t happen to have any liquid mithril, do you?”

“No, sorry. I mean I have some but it’s all solid-state. We could melt it down, but it would wear us both out so that’s not really something I want to do if we have a choice.”

“Mine’s all solid-state as well.” Harry frowned and went back to his carving.

Oakenshield cleared his throat. “Working with mithril is one of my innate gifts though I’ve not had any in hand in nearly eighty years. What do you need done?”

“I need a box formed around the One Ring,” Harry said. “I’m not sure I should let you handle it.” He frowned when the king started to speak. “It’s nothing personal, Master Oakenshield, the ring is disgustingly powerful. Ada told me about the blood curse your family is laboring under.”

“What kind of curse?” Hermione questioned.

“Obsession and hoarding—gold specifically,” Harry said. “Whoever crafted preyed on a natural weakness for the dwarrow. I’d not be surprised at all to learn that the curse was placed as it was to encourage the invasion of a dragon.”

“Which did what, exactly?” Hermione asked and glanced around. “I don’t mean physically—but what did the dragon’s invasion due socially and politically?”

“It rendered the line of Durin powerless,” Oakenshield said in a low, hard tone. “We’ve never recovered the loss of Erebor. My people died—exposure and starvation—in devastating numbers as we sought shelter after Smaug came. We lost over a hundred children by the time we’d settled in the Blue Mountains and even now we number less than a thousand. There are Longbeards in the Iron Hills, they chose not to swear themselves to me upon my father’s disappearance.”

“Considering your low birth rate, that’s a whole generation for a mountain,” Harry murmured.

“Yes,” Thorin said and turned his head. “I could work the mithril until it’s pliable—enough that you could use your magic to form the box. Would that be enough to forgo exhausting you both magically?”

“Yes, it would,” Hermione said. “You’ll need a forge.” She looked around. “I can start a magical fire that would burn as hot as you’d like—it wouldn’t be an expensive charm to cast.”

“Would you have to maintain it after casting?” Bilbo asked.

“No, not that particular one though I can conjure a flame whip that’s pretty fantastic as a weapon and not all that expensive magically.” Hermione grinned at the grunts of approval that earned her. “I used it once in a battle—my opponent was nothing but dust in the wind when I was finished.”

“Ha! That’s it, I’m adopting her,” Dwalin declared. “I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

“Would I get beads? Because I like hair jewelry, a lot.”

Harry huffed when every dwarf around them unceremoniously pulled a bead from their hair and offered it to her. “You realize I’m more dangerous than the dragon we’re heading toward, right?”

Hermione took them all. “Obviously they’re just meant in friendship, Harry, don’t ruin my fun.”

Harry sighed because he figured his witch had just been informally claimed as some sort of family by three different dwarf bloodlines. He watched her pull her wand, whip her hair up in a plump bun, and twist all thirteen beads into a braid which she wrapped around the bun and tucked it into place with a familiar bejeweled barrette.

“That’s a lovely clasp you have there,” Bilbo said. “Where did you get it?”

“Harry gave it to me last year for my birthday—it’s part of a set.” She pulled a small wooden jewelry box from her bracelet and opened it. “There’s a necklace, a hair comb, another barrette, and earrings.”

He watched his father pick up the hair comb—it was rubies, diamonds, and pearls. Ada sent him a knowing look as he inspected it. “This belonged to Lily. I’ve seen this comb in her hair in the photo album, on her wedding day.”

Harry flushed because Hermione was staring at him in shock. “What?”

“You gave me your mother’s wedding trousseau? You complete, tosser, Harry Potter. I ought to….” She huffed as Bilbo placed the comb back in the box.

“What’s a wedding trousseau?” Thorin asked as the box was passed to him. “The work is lovely—it looks dwarven.”

“It was made by the dverger on our world,” Harry said by way of agreement. “A trousseau is a dowry but one put together for a wedding is normally a collection of jewelry given to the bride by the groom’s family. A demonstration of their acceptance of her into their family. Since my family was noble, the gift was quite extravagant. That collection of jewelry was just a small portion actually—they also gifted her with a house and a full wardrobe befitting her new station in life as the wife of a future earl.” He focused on his carving. “Stop frowning at me, Hermione. The collection suited you and I wasn’t in a position to go shopping anyway. Most women just say thank you when you give them jewelry.”

The box was eventually passed back to her, and she stored it with a frown in his direction. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“That would’ve been untoward,” Harry said dryly. “You were dating someone else.”

“I….” She huffed. “It hardly mattered, Harry. Ron was furious over the gift without even knowing the origin. He said you were trying to buy my affection, but he only said that because that’s the kind of thing he would’ve done if he’d had the money for it.”

“Besides I would’ve never wanted to see any other woman wear it,” Harry said and stored his quill. “This is ready. We’ll need to your athame—I haven’t replaced mine.”

“What does tosser mean?” Bilbo asked suddenly. “That’s an English word. I don’t remember it in your language primer, Harry.”

Harry flushed and glared briefly at Hermione. “It’s a dirty word, Ada.”

Hermione blushed. “Sorry.”

Bilbo laughed. “I sort of figured considering where she placed it in the sentence. What does it mean?”

“It’s a reference to masturbation,” Harry said. “But in the context, she was calling me a jerk or alternatively a jerk-off which again is a reference to masturbation. It was rude. She should have to sit on the stool and contemplate her actions.”

“What stool?” Kíli asked as several around them burst out laughing.

“When I was little, Ada put a stool in the middle of the foyer whenever I misbehaved and made me sit on it. I wasn’t allowed any sort of entertainment as I had to prepare an explanation for my inappropriate actions or language. Once, I had sit on it for three hours because I really couldn’t think of a single reasonable explanation as to why I punched my friend Wilholm in the face.”

Hermione put the tent down in front of him and Harry moved the granite stone into place in the center of the opened canvas. “Do know why, now?”

“He….” Harry frowned. “Yes, but it’s complicated. Hobbits age differently from us and Wilholm was already fifteen when I came to the Shire, but I didn’t understand the difference in our ages until he started liking girls. I wasn’t prepared for that at all and handled it badly. I wanted him to go on adventures with me in the woods and he was too busy mooning after Daisy Falkirk.

“It was honestly just the beginning of my frustration on that topic. I was a head taller than all of my friends by the time I was ten, so I stood out for a variety of reasons that made me uncomfortable. The faunts that were actually my age weren’t allowed out of their mother’s sight so I couldn’t play with them. The faunts my size were older and more interested in things I certainly wasn’t interested in at that point.”

“I had issues with non-magical children before I entered the magical world. It’s not humble to say, but I was well beyond my peers intellectually and they were boring. I hoped for better in the magical world but was disappointed. I was really relieved when they all grew up so I could have a conversation with them.” She grinned when Harry laughed. “What?”

“Well, I just can’t imagine most of them provided you with a good conversation as adults either. I met them, remember? I was continuously surprised some of them could walk and breathe at the same time. Britain’s second biggest problem after bigotry was the anti-intellectualism. They actually seemed to prefer ignorance.” He glanced toward his father at the dismayed sound the hobbit couldn’t keep to himself. “I’ve never met a lazier group of people, and I was raised with hobbits.”

Bilbo huffed as the dwarrow burst out laughing. “Rude.”

“You lot do seem fond of food and leisure,” Thorin said in an amused tone.

Hermione drew her wand and a long thing blade with a bejeweled handle. She handed the blade to Harry even as everyone around them gaped at the ritual knife. “What?”

“Such refinery among our kind is normally ceremonial,” Fíli said. “And not used for work. That blade is worth a great deal of gold, you realize.”

“It’s priceless to me,” Hermione admitted. “It was the first gift I ever received from the Chieftain of the Horde. I’d never sell it, but there is no reason not to use it. I have spells on it to protect it from being damaged.” She offered her hand to Harry, and he gently cut the pad of her thumb and pressed it against the large rune he’d carved in the middle of the stone.

She healed the cut with a little swirl of her wand as soon as he released her. “Okay, is anyone opposed to the blood magic you’ve just witnessed?”

“It’ll keep us safe, so no,” Thorin said. He glanced around and the rest of the company was nodding their agreement. “Will you add Gandalf to the security if he catches up with us?”

“He won’t agree to give blood to the stone,” Harry said. “The blood of a maia is very magical and could be used to his detriment. If I were one—I’d never willingly bleed for anyone or anything. I could add him to the stone magically if required at some later point, but I doubt he’d request it.”

Bilbo offered his hand and Harry hesitated only briefly before taking his father’s hand in his own and making the cut.

“It didn’t hurt,” Bilbo said with a frown as his blood slicked his skin.

Harry turned his father’s hand and pressed the little wound to the rune. “No, she has her athame spelled to prevent pain. This particular ritual knife isn’t designed to be used for high magical arts, so the painless spell doesn’t detract from its purpose.”

Hermione took Bilbo’s hand in hers the moment Harry released it, healed the cut, and cleaned away the blood. “I should tell you that the tent is going to look familiar.” She flushed when Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “It was Harry’s home for a year so I thought he might appreciate something that made him feel safe. I modeled it after the memories he showed me of Bag End. It’s a bit taller, of course, because I had to make room for people our size and taller. But, yeah, it’s pretty much a portable smial.”

Harry offered her a small smile as he released Thorin’s hand and took Fíli’s. “She wasn’t wrong—it was a relief to be in such comfort after spending all of that time training in a big cave underground with the dverger. I didn’t see real sunlight for a decade. It only took me about a year to see through the artificial sunlight they had in place magically.”

“You know Ron wasn’t going to volunteer to go into the time chamber for training until he saw you,” Hermione said conversationally. “In fact, I think four different wizards ended up doing it because they weren’t on board with their witches spending ten years training with you in that big cave. Even then, two ended up dumping their boyfriends in favor of you.”

Harry scoffed. “I’m not the reason Cho left Roger. I was just there to make her feel better about his poor behavior.”

“Sure you were, lad,” Dwalin said dryly as he was released. “I don’t need healing if it’s going to make you tired, lass.”

“No, this is nothing, I promise.” She held out her hand and the dwarf stared at her for a few seconds before giving in. “Healing is intent based magic which is easy to moderate and doesn’t use our magical reserves unless we’re dealing with a near-mortal injury.”

“Who was the other one?” Harry asked.

Hermione stared at him for a moment. “Seriously?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, he must hate my guts.” Harry considered that as he moved onto the Ri brothers. “But honestly, I’d like to think that you’d have left him even if you hadn’t followed me here. You certainly deserve a better life than the one he was going to provide.”

“Is that why you left me all that money?” Hermione demanded. “To make up for his financial shortcomings?”

“Well, I didn’t know how much money you had and Ragnok told me that whomever you’d marry would gain control over your personal estate since there were no rules in place regarding that so I created a trust for you that no one could spend but you.” Harry shrugged but noted that all the dwarrow around him were nodding their agreement. “I didn’t want you or your kids to go without because of that lazy arse.” He focused on her and found her eyes welling with tears. “Are you going to cry? Because you know I’m allergic to crying witches.”

She huffed and rubbed her eyes. “You’re so terrible, Harry Potter.”

“You give a woman five million galleons and she thinks you’re terrible,” Harry muttered.

“What’s a galleon?” Bilbo asked.

“A coin equal to about five gold crowns,” Harry explained. “I didn’t bring any with me since it wouldn’t have an established worth here. I traded all of liquid currency for jewels and precious metals because I could barter that here with relative ease.”

He refolded the tent and cast a spell on the canvas which glowed brightly for several moments before returning to normal. “We can set up a forge in the dueling chamber in the tent.”

“And that would be safe?”

“Yes, the dueling chamber has two-meter thick granite walls.”

Thorin frowned as he stared at the canvas still sitting in front of Harry. “Magic is baffling.”

* * * * *

Bilbo Baggins was sitting in a near perfect replica of his favorite chair in Hermione’s portable smial puffing on a pipe that had earned him a frown from his son, but he’d had a bath and a proper meal, so he wasn’t at all fussed to earn a little disapproval. He’d had to endure several spells from Harry and drink four disgusting potions, but he felt none the worse for wear considering what he’d kept to himself for the better part of a day. He shuddered to think that he’d slept with the One Ring in his pocket.

Fortunately, no one else had been tainted by the magic of the ring so they hadn’t had to take the cleansing potion. He suspected he might be subjected to more potions before his son was satisfied. He squirmed down in his chair as Balin joined him by the fire.

“Magic is baffling,” Balin announced. “How is this place so big when the tent is so small?”

Bilbo shrugged. “How did I get all of my stuff in that little bag? Harry started summoning his toys within a month of his arrival. They would just fly into his hands. If I wanted to keep something from him, I’d have to lock it in my mother’s glory box. I was constantly afraid he’d try to get something dangerous like a knife or a lit log from the fireplace. I had the blacksmith from Bree come in and build a metal grate over the fireplace that I could lock into place to prevent it. I guess I’m just used to magic confusing or sometimes horrifying me.”

“How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Bilbo said. “But nothing another good meal and some sleep won’t fix.”

“I hate to think what would’ve happened if Hadrian hadn’t realized you were carrying it,” Balin said gravely. “Even a hand full of hours made you willing to….”

“Betray my own son,” Bilbo said flatly. “I know. I can’t imagine anything worse than that. I wonder what terrible things Gollum did to keep the ring over the years that he had it.”

“It’s best not to speculate,” Thorin said as he joined them. “It would only add stress to the situation.” He sat down in a chair near Bilbo and pulled out a pipe. “They don’t mind if we smoke in here?”

“The air cleans itself or something,” Bilbo said with a wave of his hand. “There was an explanation, but I really didn’t understand it. How did things go in the forge she created for you?”

“Hadrian had to conjure the anvil three times since such magic doesn’t last long but we worked a piece mithril enough that it he was able to fold it around the ring entirely. He carved upwards of fifty runes on it then stored the whole thing in his bracelet. Hermione declared that the construction was safe and had rendered the ring powerless for the moment.” Thorin lit his pipe. “He’s sleeping and she’s in her potion’s den. She has several large cauldrons on fires, but I didn’t ask what she was creating. Óin is with her.” Thorin paused. “She fixed his hearing.”

“She what?” Balin asked in shock.

“I watched her—she was explaining something about an ingredient, and he brought out his horn so he could hear more clearly. She stopped mid-word and asked what he was doing. He explained the horn and she asked if she could check his ears. He agreed. One spell and a potion later, and his hearing is fully restored.” Thorin shrugged. “She said something about a busted drum and scar tissue? He seemed to understand what she was saying.” He focused on Bilbo. “Did you know your son trained as healer on their world? He’s considered a master of the discipline. She has masteries in several subjects including potion making.”

“He told me he trained as healer,” Bilbo said. “Over the years, he requested many books on the subject from Ragnok when they would communicate through the portal. I wasn’t surprised to find he’d studied it formally when he had the chance. He told me that Hermione is very intelligent—among the most intelligent of their people of her generation. I worry that they’ll find some way to retrieve her or at least they’ll try and we’ll have a whole lot of bodies to bury.”

“It’s easier to burn enemies in a pile than bury them,” Thorin informed him and Balin nodded in agreement even as the hobbit stared at them in horror.

Fíli came into the large gathering room at that point and walked over to them. “The room where we put the ponies—the floor cleans itself.”

“Harry put a charm on the floor to clean up any messes the ponies might make,” Bilbo said. “I watched him.”

“Magic is baffling,” Fíli declared and stalked off toward the back of the smial toward the bathing rooms.

“Bilbo Baggins!”

Bilbo nearly dropped his pipe as Gandalf’s voice thundered through the tent. “That confounded wizard.” He continued to fumble with the pipe as he tried to stand.

“We should wake Hadrian,” Thorin said. “Before we go out there.”

“I’m awake,” Harry said as he strode through the room toward the small hall that separated the rest of the dwelling from the entrance.

The three of them quickly followed.

Harry untied the entrance and it fell open to reveal Gandalf and several elves looking around their former campsite. “Should we let him poke around for a few hours?”

“He can’t hear us or see us, even now?” Balin questioned.

“No, we’re in a pocket dimension. His magic is probably telling him that my father is here, but he can’t find him. He could be at it for hours.”

“That’s not very nice, Harry,” Bilbo chided.

“He did manipulate you into leaving the Shire to steal some silly rock from a dragon,” Harry pointed out and shrugged when Thorin glared at him. “I have no use for such things—it’s silly to me. Go on then, Ada. The wards aren’t reporting any ill intent from anyone in the party.”

Bilbo tucked his pipe into his waistcoat and stepped out into the clearing. The elves backed up in shock, but Gandalf just leaned on his staff with a relieved smile.

“I see young Hadrian is taking good care of you,” Gandalf said. “I’ve brought Arwen. She wishes to speak with the witch she injured. Everyone was quite upset by your abrupt departure considering her injury.”

Harry stepped out of the tent to stand beside his father. “Where is Saruman the White?”

“He returned to Isengard.”

“You’ve confirmed this?” Harry questioned.

“I have,” Gandalf said. “I’ve warned him, Hadrian. He knows if he comes near you that you’ll show him no mercy. You view him as an enemy and I don’t begrudge you that.”

“But you don’t agree with my position.”

“Is it enough that I understand it?” Gandalf questioned and smiled when Harry inclined his head in agreement. “Good. Now, please, may we see her?”

Harry held out his hand and slim, pale fingers slid into them as Hermione left the shelter of their tent. “Hermione Dagworth-Granger, the Baroness of Raven, meet Gandalf the Grey.”

Hermione stared at him and the wizard stared back. “It’s a pleasure.”

Gandalf blinked. “You’ve learned Westron already?”

“Harry gave me the languages he knew of this world through magic,” Hermione said. Her gaze drifted over the elves standing behind him and she settled on Arwen Undómiel. “You wished to speak with me?”

Arwen passed the reins of her horse to one of the elves lingering near her. “In private, if I could? It’s a delicate matter.”

“It’s fine,” Harry murmured. “She’d have never hurt you, if she’d known who you were.”

Hermione released Harry’s hand and followed the elven woman to the other side of the camp. The other woman looked nervous and upset as she turned to face her. “I’m completely healed. Harry made sure before he moved me.”

“I trusted that he wouldn’t have injured you further,” Arwen said and took a deep breath. “My father said our bodies were similar, but he wasn’t sure how to answer my question, so I had to find you to know that if I…the arrow penetrated very low in your body. I’m worried that I’ve hurt or destroyed your ability to have children.”

Hermione’s eyes widened briefly and she shook her head. “No, my womb is here.” She pressed her hand to her abdomen to demonstrate the location. “The arrow landed well above it. I can’t say it wasn’t painful, but I’m fully recovered.”

Arwen’s shoulders slumped slightly in relief, and she brushed a tear from her face. “To do such a thing to another woman would’ve been a crime I’d have never recovered from. Children are rare amongst my kind, you see, and I….” She took a deep breath. “Hadrian left before I could ask him.”

“One of the potions I gave your father was for organ regeneration. Even if you had hurt me, in that way, the potion would’ve corrected the injury. Harry’s also a very talented healer and could’ve handled anything the potion didn’t fix. I’m sorry you’ve worried as you have. I don’t blame you for your actions—you were protecting your family.”

Arwen’s face tightened briefly and she took a deep breath. “When Gandalf moved the portal to Rivendell—none of us disagreed with guarding it for Hadrian. He’s a gift to our world brought here by the love of his mother. I wanted….” She took a deep breath. “I begged Gandalf to allow me raise him as my own child, but he said no.”

“That must have been quite painful.”

“I’ve seen visions of the man I’ll marry and the children I’ll have with him, but it is many years in my future—I long for a child now.” Arwen took a deep breath. “But he was right. If Hadrian had been with us in Rivendell then Saruman the White would’ve found him much sooner. I do not believe we could’ve kept him safe from such a threat.” She cleared her throat. “You’re going to Erebor with the dwarrow.”

“Harry’s certainly not going to allow his father to go without him and I go where he goes,” Hermione agreed.

“Yes, you’ve made that quiet clear.” Arwen smiled and Hermione blinked.

“You’re very beautiful,” Hermione said. “Harry’s never showed me memories of you. I wonder why.”

“We’ve only met briefly. I spend most of my time with my grandmother in Lothlórien. She’s training me in the arts of healing as my father must concentrate on another matter for the Dúnedain. I was in Rivendell at this time because the child he is fostering was away visiting his mother. He’ll return shortly so I must go to my grandmother.”

“Why does your father keep you separated?” Hermione questioned.

Arwen smiled. “It was my decision. I had no desire to watch the man I marry grow up. Estel is just a boy now so I must wait until he’s an adult to meet him. I’d rather not ever know him as a child, you see?”

“I do see,” Hermione agreed. “That would be awkward. Does your father know?”

“I’ve never said it before now,” Arwen’s gaze narrowed. “You’re very easy to talk to. I should avoid you in the future.”

Hermione laughed and started to speak but an arrow hit the tree between them. She barely had time to recognize what was happening before Harry apparated across the space to her his staff drawn. He threw a shield out in front of them that blew away two trees and thick brush revealing the ugliest thing she’d ever seen in her life.

“Orcs!” Bilbo shouted and glared at Gandalf. “You were followed!”

The dwarrow rushed out of the tent even as the elves in Arwen’s guard rushed to her defense. Hermione pulled her wand, grabbed the elven woman’s arm and apparated out of Harry’s way. They reappeared with a snap of magic near the elves’ horses.

“Get a weapon.”

Arwen was pale as she rushed to her horse and pulled a sword free. She joined Hermione where Bilbo was standing, a little sword clutched in his hand. There were three orcs and a single warg—all were dead in short order. Harry turned toward them as soon as it was over and motioned with his fingers.

Hermione released the hold she had on Bilbo startled to find she’d grabbed him at all and went to her wizard.

“Orc,” Harry said flatly and shoved the largest of the creatures on his back so she could see its face. “Fairly large for the species—soldier class.” He used his staff to point at the smaller of the three. “This is a scout—they’re smaller, lighter in their bone structure and smarter. The third one is juvenile and was probably being trained by the scout. They’re not born naturally but instead of dug up from ground tainted by dark magic. There are no females as far as anyone knows, but that may merely be a presumption based on outward appearance.”

“How do you know this last one is juvenile,” Hermione questioned.

“He doesn’t have war bracelets,” Oakenshield interjected. “He died in his first battle.” He looked around them. “Such as it was.”

Harry nodded his agreement. “This last thing is a warg. They’re faster and stronger than anything you have ever seen on Earth. They’re just as dangerous as their riders in a fight. The orcs keep them on the brink of starvation to make them better hunters and killers. They’re also scavengers so they’ll eat the dead and dying on the battle field if left alive. Wargs are surprisingly very trainable, but they only respond to commands in Black Speech which is a language created by Sauron. In this age, only orcs and their allies speak it. You’re smart so if you ever hear it, you’ll probably pick up some words. Never repeat them to anyone or anything. It would mark you an enemy to many people. It would be very dangerous knowledge to demonstrate.”

Hermione nodded, her fingers flexing around her wand. “Were they following her or us?”

“I don’t know.” Harry’s gaze drifted to where Arwen stood with her people. “It would be considered quite a victory for them to kill Lord Elrond’s only daughter.”

“She said she’s traveling to her grandmother’s kingdom,” Hermione said. “Do you have an apparition point there?”

“No.” Harry grimaced and shook his head. “The most that I could do is return her to Rivendell, but I don’t want to leave you for even that long.”

“I’m a grown witch, you know.” Hermione glared at him when he started to speak. “I was in a war, Harry.” She pointed her wand at the orcs, swished it to form a pile then set them on fire without saying a word. She stalked off toward the tent.

“I don’t think you can handle her,” Fíli confided.

Harry grinned. “I know.” He looked at the fire. “It’ll burn out on its own when the bodies are gone.”

“We’ll watch it just in case,” Dwalin said roughly. “Go make peace with your woman. I’d rather not travel with an angry female.”

* * * *

Harry found her in the potion’s lab, shoulders tight with displeasure. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. She huffed. “I love you.”

“That’s not a get out of jail free card, Harry Potter.”

He pressed his face briefly against her hair as he laughed a little. “I know, for a fact, that you’re one of the most dangerous people on Arda. You can take care of yourself in practically any circumstance. Even injured you managed to put one of the more powerful elves in Rivendell on his arse. When I said that I didn’t want to leave you—I mean it. I never want to be parted from you ever again. Leaving you behind on Earth was the most agonizing decision I’ve ever made in my life. It was like ripping out my own heart to step through that portal without you.”

She turned in his arms. “Harry.”

His hands fell to her hips as he pulled her closer. “It’s not about your abilities, do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said. “I don’t want to be separated from you either.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “If I hadn’t been shot with an arrow—I’d have probably punched you in the face the first time I saw you.”

He laughed. “You’re perfect.”

“You left me.” Her eyes darkened. “I thought if that happened you’d at least tell me goodbye in person.”

“I could never tell you good bye,” Harry admitted. “I’m sorry my weakness in this hurt you.”

“I’ve never known anyone stronger than you,” she murmured. “Kiss me.”

He pressed his mouth against hers gently and groaned softly when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed fully against his body. Her lips parted for him and the first taste of her made his magic shudder.

The clearing of a throat, loudly, made them separate.

Harry looked toward the entrance of the lab and found his father standing there, staring at the ceiling with a look of disconcertion on his face. “Ada.”

“The elves are considering moving on—immediately. Your thoughts?”

“It would be safer for Arwen to go ahead,” Harry said. “If anything, she’s more of a target of chance than anything else. The orcs have been hunting the dwarrow probably since they left Bree.”

“Granted,” Bilbo said. “I’ll let them know what you think.”

Harry took a deep breath as they were left alone. “For the record, that was really inappropriate by his standards.”

“Kissing?” Hermione questioned.

“Well, sharing such an intimacy without securing the door, actually. Hobbits don’t have a problem with sex outside of marriage. Affection between lovers is a private matter, however.”

“Hugs?”

“No, those are fine, but they shouldn’t be lingering and hands should certainly stay above the waist and on the back.” He grinned at the laughter she could barely suppress. “What?”

“It’s just…for a race that has so many children….”

He laughed. “Hermione Jane.”

“Seriously, that’s a lot of curtains-closed-door-locked-in-the-dark baby making.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth and released her. “Just trust me—okay—I have faith in your abilities. There is no one else I’d rather have at my back or at my side. We haven’t had a lot of time to figure us out.”

She smiled and pulled his hair gently. “I want to make babies in the dark with you, Harry Potter.”

He grinned. “We can leave the lights on as long as we lock the door.”

“Yes, lock the door,” Bilbo said cheerfully from the door way.

Harry sighed. “Ada, you have terrible timing. Seriously.”

“Arwen has a gift for Hermione…she’s asking to speak with her again.”

“Why is Arwen so upset?” Harry asked. “It was a mistake anyone could’ve made.”

Hermione looked between father and son briefly before speaking. “She thought she might have taken away my ability to have children—because of how small I am and how low the arrow hit. I told her I was fine, but I suspect she’s been carrying that worry since she realized who I am to you. She was worried you wouldn’t forgive her for injuring me.”

“And you are really okay in that respect?” Bilbo questioned. “I’m not opposed to grandchildren as long as you close the door when you make them.”

Harry sighed. “She’s healed completely, Ada.”

They made their way to the front of the tent—the dwarrow had already retreated inside and were working on the armor project which Harry appreciated. Ada liked them so he figured he’d make every effort to keep them alive on their insane trek across Arda.

Harry watched Arwen present Hermione with a sword that could’ve only come from Elrond’s own forge. It was slightly shorter than the saber he’d been given but the blade gleamed with elf magic—forever deadly. The blade was iron, but the pummel was intricately wrought mithril. Arwen put the sword in a scabbard and formally offered it to Hermione.

He watched his witch hold out both hands in a method of acceptance she’d probably learned from the dverger, and the two women exchanged a few more words before parting. Hermione returned to his side as the elves mounted horses and left.

“What did she say?” Harry asked as they reentered the tent.

“The sword belonged to her mother,” Hermione said. “Arwen received it as a gift from her mother before she went to Valinor. What does that mean?”

“Her name was Celebrían,” Harry said. “She was captured by orcs and tortured. Her sons rescued her, but she was so emotionally wounded that she could not remain in Arda. Elves are immortal—when they can no longer remain here, for whatever reason, they travel west to Valinor so that they can have as much peace as Eru can provide.”

“I shouldn’t have accepted it,” Hermione said. “How could she part with….”

“The sword is actually too short for Arwen. Based on the length and weight, I would say that Celebrían wasn’t much bigger than you. It’s name is Vórima.”

“What does that mean?” Ori asked.

Harry noted the dwarf was writing in his book. “It means faithful, steadfast.”

“What’s he doing?” Hermione questioned.

“He’s the scribe for the quest,” Bilbo said as he sat down at the table in the kitchen area with a plate of cheese, ham and bread. “What he’s writing will be part of the historical record for their people.”

“Can you use that weapon, little baroness?” Fíli asked as Hermione pulled the sword out of the scabbard for Ori to view.

“Want a demonstration?” she asked tartly.

“He does not,” Harry said quickly. “He’s the heir, Hermione. Never engage him in any sort of practice.”

“I wouldn’t hurt her,” Fíli protested and frowned at Harry.

“She doesn’t know how to spar without magic,” Harry informed them all. “She’d maim you for life without even trying, and, honestly, without even breaking a sweat.”

Hermione blushed when they all turned to stare at her. “Should I learn to spar without magic?”

“No,” Thorin interjected. “It would only diminish your ability to protect yourself to subjugate your natural abilities. We’ll content ourselves to watch you attempt to maim Hadrian for life.”

Hermione grinned at the dwarf king which was irritating. Harry didn’t find Thorin Oakenshield charming at all, but he was apparently alone in that opinion.

Harry exhaled sharply. “Where did Gandalf go?”

“To scout ahead for Arwen’s party. He wants to join us as we leave the pass,” Bilbo said. “He mentioned wanting to watch the repair of the Old Forest Road bridge.”

* * * *

“I’ve honestly never traveled in such luxury,” Fíli said to Bilbo the moment he sat down at the table for breakfast. “Magic is great.”

“It can be,” Bilbo said. “It can also be terrible.”

Fíli nodded. “Where’s your son?”

“He’s outside taking a look around,” Bilbo said with a flick of his hand. “He has a flying broom.”

“A what?”

Harry entered the tent at that point, a long wooden object in his hand that looked more like a sculpture of a broom than a cleaning tool.

“You can fly?” Fíli questioned.

“With a magical device, yes,” Harry said. He propped the broom against the counter and went to the kettle on the stove. “Is your uncle awake?”

“I am.” Thorin entered from the back part of the tent. “Is there a problem?”

“A big, pale one,” Harry said grimly and inclined his head when Thorin’s face drained of blood. “He’s about three days travel behind us on foot. He tried to send a rider back toward Moira. I didn’t know if he was sending for reinforcements or if it was a regular communication—either way I killed the rider is soon he was out of Azog’s sight. I’d have killed that big ugly bastard, too, but it would’ve incited the rest of them and he’s traveling with about a hundred wargs and twice that many soldiers.”

“He’s on the main road then?”

“Yes, but he’s apparently sent hunting parties down through several other passes. That’s what came upon us yesterday.”

“You speak Black Speech?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “He was speaking Westron. I assume for the trolls and ogre. I don’t have the magical reserves to take out that many at once without injuring my core, so I kept my distance.”

“I don’t expect you to fight our battles for us,” Thorin said gravely.

“I’d do a lot to prevent my father from ever being involved in a battle,” Harry said evenly and raised an eyebrow when Thorin started to speak. “That isn’t something you get to disagree with.” He brought his tea to the table. “I thought Azog was dead, by the way.”

“I thought so as well,” Thorin said. “It’s infuriating.”

“We can plot his assassination today as we travel,” Fíli suggested and grinned when his uncle sent him a fond look.

The little Baroness entered at that point, her hair tumbling down her shoulders but dressed for the day. She held up a hand when Harry started to speak.

“Coffee. Right now.”

Harry laughed. “Bad night?”

“Every single one of these gits is getting a physical, by you, today, Harry Potter!” She huffed and sat down at the table as Bilbo put a cup in front of her. “They snore like bloody hippogriffs! Security won’t allow silencing spells! How did I miss it before?”

“You’ve been really tired the past few nights,” Harry pointed out. “The healing and restorative potions made you sleep more deeply than normal.”

“Right.” She made a face at him.

Harry grinned. “It could just be their species, you know.”

“Bah! You’re gonna fix them!” She pointed her finger at him and Fíli barely refrained from laughing. “Especially the one sleeping on the right side of my room!”

“I think that’s me,” Fíli admitted and flushed. “Sorry.”

“You snore so loud I checked on you to make sure you weren’t having some kind of fit,” Hermione said crossly and huffed when they all laughed.

“What’s a hippogriff?” Bilbo questioned as he put a basket of scones on the table.

Harry sat down next to his witch so the rest of them sat down as well. “It’s a fairly large animal that can fly.” He drew his wand, plucked a cloth napkin from the basket in front of him and flicked it open before placing it on the table. He swirled his wand over it and the napkin twisted in the magic until a small animal stood that looked like a strangely-headed horse with wings. “Noble, easily offended, capable of long-distance flight even with a passenger, and very magical.”

Fíli gaped as the little horse-creature trotted around the table then took flight. He watched it fly a few circles around the table before landing back in front of Hadrian. The magic shimmered and the napkin collapsed once more on the table. “Wow.”

“Could you make bigger creatures—that would last longer?” Thorin asked as he poured himself some coffee.

“I couldn’t, no, but Hermione can. Battle transfiguration was a specialty for her during training.”

Bombur brought a large dish to the table and placed it in the middle. “Bilbo put this together for us this morning. It’s Hadrian’s favorite.”

“What is it?” Fíli questioned even as Harry immediately served himself.

“A cattia,” Thorin supplied. “My mother often made them in her private kitchen—at various meals. The one for breakfast was often eggs, sausage, and root bread.”

“It’s pretty much that,” Bilbo agreed. “Add a little heavy cream and some spinach. It’s hardy and filling which I figure will you serve all best since you eat so little.”

“Spinach,” Fíli said with a huff. “Why’d you put that stuff in it?”

“Because it’s good for you,” Bilbo said and flicked Fíli’s ear as he took a seat. “You still eat like a child—I’ve begun to question your age.”

“That’s mean,” Fíli exclaimed but took the plate Bombur passed him.

“Was the snoring the only thing that kept you up?” Harry questioned and focused on Hermione. Her cheeks flushed and she shrugged. “Do you need me to redo your dream catcher spell?”

“I’m fine.”

His gaze narrowed. “That’s not what I asked.”

“I think it fell apart because of my magical exhaustion, but I’d rather not have another. I need to learn how to deal with the memories, so they don’t terrorize me in my sleep.”

He started to speak but she just glared at him, so he frowned and concentrated on his food.

“What memories?” Bilbo asked.

Hermione picked up her coffee cup and stared at the brew for a few seconds. “Harry told you about the war.”

“Yes, a little—not as much I’d like to know but probably more than he wanted to say.”

“Shortly before the defeat of Voldemort, the enemy faction’s leader, I was captured.” She cleared her throat. “They tortured me when I refused to give the information they wanted.”

“What did they want?” Bilbo questioned.

She looked around the tent. “The location of Harry’s base camp. They wanted the location and the ability to get into it. When I refused—they tortured me. Since they didn’t want to drive me insane, the wizard who tried to get the information out of me used a knife and….” She exhaled sharply. “Fire. Many hundreds of years ago on our world, magical people were persecuted and witches were burned at the stake by the thousands. Magical theorists suggest that Magic remembers the suffering of her people. Magical people have an inherent fear of fire.”

“Harry never went near the fireplace in our home. I worried about it constantly, but it proved to be unwarranted. He wouldn’t even look at the fire until he was seven or eight years old.” Bilbo cleared his throat. “They set you on fire.”

“No, mostly they held my hand and arms over flames until the skin…blistered and burned. Then they would heal me so they could do it again the next day. To keep me from using magic against them, they put a special cuff on my wand hand that suppressed my magic. The last time they healed me, the healer forgot to latch the cuff back into place.”  She pursed her lips. “He didn’t live long enough to regret it.”

“Good for you, lass,” Dwalin said quietly. “Did you get the rest of them, too?”

“Not personally—the moment I woke up and my magic was no longer suppressed Harry’s tracking spells started working and he came for me. By the time I’d killed the healer and gotten out of the basement prison they were keeping me in—everyone else in the house was dead. I was too relieved to see him to get properly upset that he killed Malfoy before I could.”

“Malfoy was the wizard that tortured you?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes, and his sister-in-law. She wasn’t in the house when I was freed, but I caught up with her the day of the final battle,” she admitted. “At any rate, I had nightmares and it was interfering with my ability to get proper rest, so Harry cast a spell on me that is sometimes called the Sweet Dreams charm. It’s most often used on children actually as adults prefer potions on the whole, but I didn’t want to become dependent on a potion to sleep.”

“Do you have problems with fire now?” Thorin asked.

“No. I refused to allow my such a weakness—it would’ve been used against me,” Hermione said and frowned. “I’m serious about the snoring, Harry. It’s outrageous.”

Harry laughed. He couldn’t even disagree. “I’ll check them but not all today. We need to get out of the pass and over the river at least today. I’d like to put some more distance between us and the orcs.”

“Our pace need not be too hurried,” Thorin said. “We can’t open the door into Erebor until Durin’s Day.”

“October,” Harry said. “And it’s just June 2^nd. Why can’t the door be opened before October 22^nd?”

“It’s hidden and only visible on that day,” Thorin said. “My grandfather knew of the door and marked it on his map which Gandalf recently returned to me.”

Harry frowned.

“Problem?”

“Meddlers piss me off,” Harry said plainly. “And Gandalf, no matter his intentions, is a die-hard meddler. Darkness looms in the distant future, Master Oakenshield, and I assume that Gandalf is acting based on events that are far beyond our reach. Perhaps the Ring has stirred up factions in this world or Saruman has done far more to bring forth the return of Sauron than we are aware.” He cleared his throat. “If we have that much time to get to Erebor, I’d like to take the day to set down the protections I’ve designed for the Shire. I stayed up last night and carved the stones.”

Thorin nodded. “I’d not want you to leave them defenseless if you have a choice. They’d not well do in any sort of conflict that Saruman could send their way.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Harry agreed.

“I’ll finish the armor,” Dori said and stood. “We’ll be ready to travel tomorrow in it. Will you be adding spells to it after I finish the craft work?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “We’ll lay runes on the interior—more fortification, water resistance, et cetera. I could start a forge in the dueling chamber, if that’s needed.”

“It is,” Thorin said. “And thank you. I have a small anvil that I can use for the work I have—one that wouldn’t have stood up to working with mithril.”

* * * *

Hermione watched as Harry used his foot to sink the final ward stone into the ground. “It’s beautiful here. I envy your childhood, Harry, surrounded by such peace and beauty. I grew up in a small neighborhood, but I rarely even got to go to the park down from my house because my mother was constantly afraid I’d get kidnapped by some stranger.”

“Earth was quite a shock to me,” Harry admitted. “Dirty and ugly far beyond anything I could’ve imagined. The air smelled foul. One of the first spells Ragnok taught me was one to regulate the air around me because I kept getting sick due to the poor air quality. I got used to it, but it took time.” He cleared his throat. “I need to place the heart of the ward in my great-grandmother’s garden. She’s going to be fascinated and irritated since the most central location is right smack in the middle of her award-winning eggplant patch.”

“Oh no,” Hermione said with some amusement.

“You’d better look much more sympathetic when I let her know,” Harry warned with a laugh. “She’s won Best Eggplant at the annual harvest festival twenty-five years running unless something horrible has happened since I left.”

“Well, we can sink it deep in the ground, so it won’t disturb her….” She trailed off when he shook his head.

“She’s only allowed to enter the contests at all because she promised that I’d never done any sort of magic in her garden. This fall, she won’t be able to say that honestly, so she won’t compete. Ada has never entered because by just participating in the planting and harvesting—I changed his garden with magic. Honestly, his garden produces three times what it should for its size because of me. My ambient magic just leaked all over it for over a decade.”

“How far is Bag End from the center of the Shire?”

“About two miles,” Harry said as he used his magic to push the ward stone down until it was no longer visible. “Why?”

“Because if it’s been soaking up all of your ambient magic for years then it’s the best place for the heart of the ward,” Hermione said. “Set aside the mathematics, Harry. A good warding scheme also includes paying attention to the emotional landscape of the space you’re warding. Plus, after more than a decade I imagine that Bag End has become something of a magical sink for the entire Shire.”

Harry blew a surprised breath out and nodded. “You’re right.”

“Well, my warding education was broader than yours since you only had dverger professors on that subject. They’re very rigid and preoccupied with lines and distance. It makes for strong wards, of course, but their wards are cold. You’d not want to set such a ward on the Shire on a long-term basis. It would be disquieting when combined with the deep fey magic that’s resting here.”

Harry nodded and he ignored the way his face was flushing. He’d been so intent on protecting them that he’d ignored his own instincts. “I thought…at first that it should be Bag End, but I set that idea aside because it felt like an emotional choice rather than an instinctual one.”

“It’s probably both and that’s fine—the ward will have a good foundation based on love and acceptance that you found in your ada’s home.”

Harry smiled then. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

* * * *

Watching him dig a hole with an actual shovel was more amusing than Hermione would ever want to admit. He’d actually looked appalled when she’d suggested that he use a spell to make the hole for the heart of the ward when he found the right space at Bag End. His childhood home was just as charming as the memories he’d shown her.

“Harry Potter.”

Hermione turned, her wand shimmered into her hand instantly at the sharp tone. There was a hobbit standing on the road glaring pointedly at Harry.

“Lobelia Sackville-Baggins,” Harry said and he stopped digging. “Come to see if you can sneak into my father’s home and rob him blind while he’s gone on his little adventure?”

She scowled. “As if I’d want the anything in this foul place.”

Harry grinned. “Not even my grandmother’s silver teaspoons?”

Hermione barely managed not to laugh at the look that crossed the woman’s face. The hobbit looked both furious and confused at the same time, which she understood. Harry had that effect on a lot of people.

“Who is this human?”

“That’s no human,” Harry said mildly as he started digging. “That’s a flesh and blood witch, Cousin, so do mind your manners before I get irritated. You’d not want to run around Hobbiton with blue hair for a year again, would you?”

Lobelia huffed and crossed her arms. “When is your father returning? I’m going to have words with him. He’s destroying the family reputation!”

“Well, that’s not true at all.”

Hermione jerked around, her fingers tightening around her wand, there was a small group of hobbits standing on the little sidewalk leading into the smial.

“Love, put away your wand—they couldn’t be less of a threat if they tried,” Harry said with some amusement.

Hermione flushed and stored her wand because now all of the hobbits including the first one were looking at her with shock and no small amount of fear. “I’m sorry.”

“Everyone, this is Hermione Dagworth-Granger. Hermion, this my cousin by marriage, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.” He motioned to the one on the road. “And from left to right—my great grandmother, Laura Baggins, my Uncle Bingo and his son Falco, and my godmother Rosa Took.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Hermione said but her gaze flicked briefly to Lobelia. “Mostly.”

Laura laughed. “Ah, now, this one I like. Go away, Lobelia, so I can visit with my grandson without your prattle.”

Lobelia huffed. “Bilbo has brought nothing but shame on this family for decades!”

“The Baggins family finds nothing shameful about Bilbo. If the Sackville-Baggins feel differently then that is certainly your problem and not ours,” Laura snapped. “Leave immediately.”

Hermione bit down on her lip to keep from laughing as Lobelia blushed and stomped away. She turned to Harry. “She reminds me of Molly.”

“Lobelia?” Harry laughed. “They have a similar personality that’s for certain, but Lobelia is very invested in her reputation. She only married into the family to further herself. The Bracegirdle family isn’t nearly as wealthy as ours so there is a class disparity that is mostly in her mind because the rest of the family doesn’t care that her family doesn’t own their land.”

“So being a tenant indicates a different economic class,” Hermione surmised. “I guess that makes sense if you’re entire economy is based on the fruit of the land.”

Harry nodded and started to dig again. “Did you speak to the Thain, Grandmother?”

“I did,” Laura said. “I’ve had to reassume some responsibilities in your father’s absence. When will he really return?”

Harry paused in his digging and sighed. “I don’t think he will—at least not permanently. He doesn’t think the Shire is good for me and I’ve already promised him that we can live where ever he would like.”

Hermione watched the gathered hobbits process that information and was relieved when none of them looked angry or even surprised.

“In his letter, he spoke of a dwarf named Thorin Oakenshield multiple times,” Laura said. She put her hands on her hips. “Has he gone and fallen in love with a dwarf, Hadrian?”

Harry sighed. “Eru help us all, Grandmother. I hope not because….” He sighed. “Yes, probably. It’s an unfortunate situation actually as the dwarf in question is an arsehole.”

“Harry,” Hermione admonished. “I think he’s nice.”

“You would,” Harry said crossly.

Hermione turned to Laura. “And very attractive. He’s a blacksmith by trade but if he succeeds in his quest—he’ll take his rightful place as King Under the Mountain in Erebor.”

Laura waved the rest of the hobbits off and joined them in the small side yard. She sat down on a bench and pulled out a pipe. “Come sit with me, young lady.”

Hermione did as instructed as the older hobbit woman lit the pipe. She blinked in surprise and turned to Harry. “She’s smoking marijuana.”

Harry laughed. “Well, it’s a variation of it certainly—Old Toby is a hybrid plant I think with some form of tobacco. Fortunately, it’s not a carcinogenic or addictive physically. It’s probably habit forming. You’d think with them all walking around with a mild high that they’d be nicer.”

“Harry Potter,” Hermione scolded with a laugh and blinked in surprise when Laura offered her the pipe.

“Oh, no,” Harry cautioned. “Trust me, you don’t want to partake. I did it once shortly before I left the Shire. It gave me a vicious headache. It doesn’t seem to mix well with our magic.”

“Too bad,” Laura said and withdrew her offer. “I find dealing with males much easier when I smoke.”

“I bet,” Hermione said and grinned when the older woman laughed.

“Now, when do you two plan to marry? You have babies differently than us…so I hope you’re taking precautions, Hadrian. It would be untoward to have a child out of wedlock, if it can be helped.”

Harry blushed furiously. “Grandmother!”

Laura laughed.

“I was thinking next summer,” Hermione said.

Laura nodded. “Sounds good. We’ll exchange letters and I’ll help with the planning.” She focused on Harry. “I expect you have marriage rites of your own, so we’ll make allowances for that but do be careful about babies.”

“I have…a spell,” Hermione said and flushed when the woman focused on her. “To prevent conception. I can remove it when I’m ready. We’d never risk a pregnancy during travel. My kind are normally very hardy, but a baby would be an unacceptable health risk on the road.”

“Ah, good,” Laura patted her knee. “Excellent. Well, have fun then. The first blush of love is always lovely and passionate.”

“Just the lock the door,” Hermione said.

“Certainly,” Laura agreed. “There’s no need to share your pleasures with others—it’s a gift meant for each other.”

Put that way, it was charming and far less Puritan than she’d first considered. Hermione nodded and turned to Harry who’d returned to his digging. “I saved your egg plant patch. He’d first thought to dig this hole in the middle of your garden.”

Laura huffed.

“Wow, Hermione Jane, being a tattle-tail is highly frowned upon at Bag End.” Harry shrugged when his grandmother scowled at him. “Your smial is right in the middle of Hobbiton which is the center of the Shire, essentially. It was just good math.”

Hermione laughed.

“But Hermione said I should place the heart of the protection ward where my magical influence is the greatest.”

“What will this magic do?” Laura asked.

“It will….” Harry paused. “Protect the entire Shire from anything or anyone that means us harm. It’ll push back orc, warg, and wolf alike. Anyone with violent intent will be repelled from our borders. I spoke with the Thain and the Master of Buckland about the charm work. It also has seasonal weather charms built into it.” He focused on his grandmother. “There will never be another Fell Winter in the Shire.”

“Hadrian…such a gift is…I….” Laura trailed off.

“This is my home,” Harry said simply. He pulled the final stone from his bracelet and slid it into place then drew his staff.

Hermione watched in silence as Harry worked, magic flowing off his staff as he spoke the spells of protection and security of their home world. In the depths of his craft, Harry was compelling and beautiful in a way she’d never been able to ignore.

“Are all of your people capable of such things?” Laura asked.

“No,” Hermione murmured. “Harry is very powerful—probably the most powerful wizard our world has ever known. Some thought that his time here on Arda changed his magic but I think he was always meant to be exactly what he is. I thank a higher power than myself every day for the fact that he was raised in such a good, loving home.”

“Why?”

“Magical people can be corrupted by pain and betrayal,” Hermione said. “Physical and emotional abuse can even make the magic of a child…hide itself away. The nurturing of a magus must be done with the utmost care. I don’t think Gandalf could’ve picked a better parent for Harry though he had no way of knowing exactly what could’ve happened to Harry if he’d been raised in a poor environment. Maybe Harry would’ve been strong enough to hold onto his magic and keep it safe or perhaps his mother’s magic would’ve protected him. I don’t know for certain but I’m glad it was never in question.” She leaned forward a little. “There’s going to be a small light show—but with the sun so high most won’t notice it.”

“The Thain sent out letters to all the villages announcing that he’d accepted magical protection from Hadrian,” Laura said. “No one is going to lose their tiny minds.”

Hermione laughed. “I like you, too.”

* * * *

“Master Pott will be examining everyone magically to resolve any lingering ailments,” Óin said pointedly as he sat down at the table with Thorin. “I’ve told him all I know but I only have field training that came from being in the guard before I chose my craft. These days I’m much more interested in medicines and…she called them potions than I am hands on physical healing. The Baroness has agreed to take me as her apprentice in potions work.”

“You’re going to take a second mastery?” Glóin asked in shock. “What about your craft?”

“There’s been little use for my craft in the last few decades, but I’ll still find myself in front of a loom when the mood strikes me, but I have a chance to learn from an intelligent and gifted potion’s mistress. I’d be foolish to pass that up. She said my small magics are strong enough that I can master all but a few potions.” Óin fiddled with the horn he no longer had any use for. “She fixed my hearing in fifteen minutes, Glóin. I’ve not heard so well since…well since the accident. If we succeed in the quest, I won’t have to work for a living and I have no children or wife to support.”

“I’m not complaining, brother,” Glóin said. “Be a student all of your life if you wish it—take four masteries if it suits your mind. If she thinks you could learn those things then you should certainly take the opportunity to explore that and the use of your small magic.”

“And it would be a boon to the mountain to have someone amongst us who can brew potions as she apparently does,” Thorin said. “None of us are injured—why do we need examined by a healer?”

“Because general wellness and regular visits to a healer prevent the development of problems that could cripple or kill you,” Hadrian said as he entered the tent. “Ada promised to set up a space for me to work, and it’ll be as private as you desire it to be.”

“Considering the matter of our quest, I don’t believe we can afford to keep secrets regarding our physical health,” Thorin said roughly. “Does anyone disagree? I won’t hold it against you if you’d prefer to have a private exam.”

The dwarrow around him all shrugged.

“Great,” Hermione said brightly. “Let’s start with Bifur.”

“I think you’re more concerned about the axe in his head than he is,” Harry pointed out.

“Yes, well he’s had decades upon decades to get use to it and I haven’t,” Hermione retorted.

In short order they were in the healing room and Bifur was gamely swinging his booted feet as he sat on a table he’d been directed to. Thorin found magic interesting and potentially horrifying so he watched intently as Hadrian took out his wand and Hermione sat down with a ledger to take notes. She had a fancy red and gold feathered quill, but no ink was evident. Ori had whispered to his brother that the quill was self-inking and that he was desperately jealous over it.

He could make no sense of the cloud of magic that formed around the wizard and Bifur, but he noted that nothing about Hadrian’s expression indicated distress or worry.

“All right,” Harry said. “He is 177 years old, 4’5, 162lbs. Beyond the head injury, all of his other organs are working well within normal for his size and weight. Kidneys function is a little off but that can be attributed to their previous traveling condition. Make a note for a check on that after two weeks of regular food and clean water. Bone health is good, but he is mildly malnourished—vitamin D is low. Iron is high but normal for his species if the dverger base line holds true.

“Study will tell that tale in the future. He has no respiratory issues so he’s not one of the ones snoring like an aging hippogriff. The axe is intruding on his frontal lobe which is impacting speech and language center. His brain and body structure is on par with a dverger so we can start there with a health profile for the species.” He focused on Bifur. “You have a headache. On a scale of one to ten, where do you rate your pain with ten being comparable to a broken bone.”

Bifur stared for a moment and displayed eight fingers.

“When is the last time you had a headache free day?” Harry paused when Bifur used his hands to speak to his cousin in a rapid fashion.

Bofur winced. “He doesn’t remember. His head hurts—it has since Khazad-dûm.”

Hermione hopped up from her little desk and immediately went to a cabinet in the back of the room. She rummaged for a few moments and came back with a vial. “Based on the small scan I did with Óin yesterday—when I gave him that scar tissue removal potion—I made some basic dverger-specific potions. Pain relief.”

Harry took the potion and offered it to Bifur who hesitated just a moment before taking the vial and uncorking. He downed it and shuddered violently. “Yeah, honestly there are very few potions that don’t taste like shite.”

The magical cloud surrounding Bifur shifted white and the dwarf slumped forward a bit in what could only be relief.

“Better?” Harry questioned.

Bifur nodded and Thorin relaxed because he’d never known the toy maker to look so grateful.

“We’ll need bone regeneration, organ repair, nerve repair, and a heavy sleeping draught for his healing which I don’t want to do on the road,” Harry admitted. “He’ll need time to recover and might have some physical problems adjusting to the removal of the axe. In the mean time, I can do some basic healing spells to repair the damage done to his speech center and he needs a level two nutrition potion on a monthly basis to solve the vitamin D issue since even on this trip he’s not managed to absorb enough vitamin D from the sun. We’ll also make sure he has a pain potion every morning, so he doesn’t have to suffer for the injury anymore.” He slashed his wand through the cloud of magic, and it disappeared.

Hadrian hissed and dark purple magic streamed out of the wand and enveloped Bifur’s head. It swirled around him for nearly ten minutes and they all watched in stunned silence. Hermione left the little desk again and retrieved a small blue vial from the potion’s cabinet. Thorin figured they’d all be taking that nutrient potion if they needed something from the sun they weren’t getting.

The wizard lowered his wand and everyone in the room took a collective deep breath.

Bifur was staring intently at Harry and in Westron said, “Thank you very much.”

In that moment, Thorin realized if Hadrian never did anything else for them magically that he owed the younger man an immense debt. The shock and relief on Bifur’s face said it all. Bombur went next and he looked rather nervous. Perhaps even miserable and Thorin wondered if he shouldn’t have been so vocal in his desire to know the general health of everyone in the company.

“I should lose weight,” Bombur blurted out before the first spell was cast.

“Should you?” Harry questioned. “Let’s take a look.” He cast the spell. “166 years, 4’8, 230lbs. Bone and joint health is normal. Organ health good—kidneys a little off due to water quality. I want to run around all of Arda and teach people how to clean the water.”

Hermione laughed. “We’ll send out pamphlets. I’ll start a newsletter.”

Harry grinned at her before refocusing on Bombur. “Your mobility is fine, you’re strong as a war ram, and your stamina is on par with a dwarf half of your age. Your organs are healthy and your joints show no signs of stress or inflammation.” He patted Bombur’s shoulder. “You’re just fine—shaped as Mahal intended and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Does he need the nutrient potion?” Hermione questioned.

“No, his diet is varied enough that his vitamin D levels are great.”

“What are the food sources for this vitamin?” Bilbo questioned.

“Fish, various seafood, eggs and mushrooms are all good for it,” Harry said as he ended the charm. He turned to Hermione. “He’s also allergic…to you.”

“To me?” Hermione asked in horror.

“Specifically, that lemon grass based shampoo you’ve been using. If he’s snoring then you’re to blame.”

“Oh, well, I have a lot of it.” She pursed her lips. “We’ll just give it to your grandmother. She liked the way my hair smelled.”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry about your shampoo,” Bombur blurted out. “It smells nice.” He soothed his beard. “I like mushrooms.”

“Oh, me too, we should hunt for some at the next camp location,” Harry decided.

Thorin watched in silence as Bofur gamely went through the exam—taking a bone shoring potion and a vitamin potion. Dori, Nori, and Ori all received the nutrient potion, and Dori had sat down beside Bombur to question him about his diet shortly thereafter. Thorin almost felt sorry for Ori in that moment—the poor dwarf was going to be stuffed to the brim with mushrooms.

Thorin stood. “I’ll go next.” Everyone left to be examined was of the line of Durin and if their family history were going to be revealed then it would fall to him to reveal it so there would be no questions later regarding such things being shared with outsiders.

“Of course.” Harry stepped back so Thorin could slide up onto the table.

Thorin managed to not flinch when the magic of the examination spell enveloped him. It wasn’t painful but there was a tingling sensation that no one had mentioned.

“Oh.” Harry expelled a surprised breath.

“What?” Hermione questioned.

“His small magics aren’t all dwarven,” Harry said and raised an eyebrow at the king.

“Durin II married a hobbit,” Thorin said roughly. “It’s not known to those outside of our people, but it was documented thoroughly in our family history as she gave him a remarkable five children which is unheard of in dwarven families. Four daughters and one son. How can you tell?”

“I’d considered it might be possible when I met Kíli—he rather looks like a Stoor hobbit if I may be frank.” Harry glanced toward the youngest Durin. “But your small magic is very different than the others.” He cleared his throat. “Right, 195 years old, 4’10, 190lbs. Organs and bones are fine. You’ve got some thick scar tissue near your kidneys that I’d like to work on after the quest but it’s not a true problem right now. It’s too thick to resolve with a potion.”

“Can you see the curse?”

“Yes,” Harry said simply. “And if I could document this in a way that Gandalf could verify, I would have all the proof I need of Saruman the White’s treachery.”

“Saruman cursed my line?” Thorin asked in horror.

“What better way to weaken the east than to see to the destruction of the strongest dwarf kingdom?” Harry questioned. “Shoring up the east and ridding the Grey Mountains of the orc infestation is certainly why Gandalf has set you on the quest. Smaug is dangerous for a lot of reasons—not just because he’s squatting in your mountain like a foul cousin who can’t cook, hold their liquor, or entertain.”

Bilbo snorted then laughed. “Harry. Did you just compare Smaug to Lobelia?”

“I never said her name,” Harry protested. “But back to Smaug—he would be an ideal ally for Sauron. Sauron certainly has the power to dominate and control him at least in the short term. So that dragon most certainly needs to die as soon as possible. The ring has surfaced and…the meeting of the White Council was telling. They certainly hadn’t been called together to talk about your quest since Radagast called for the meeting and he didn’t know about your travels until he met with Gandalf.”

“Can you remove the curse?” Bilbo questioned.

“Yes, but I’ll have to do it in the mountain since I think that is origin point for the curse which I know is risky. The curse is relatively dormant right now and I can’t take it on while it’s burrowed down in his small magics like a tumor. I doubt anyone of the blood line has been spared as this is a genuine blood curse. It makes me want to apparate over to Isengard and punch the White Wizard in the face to see such an abuse of his power.”

“We’ll get him eventually,” Hermione said. “I’m certainly not going to let that git run around this place and curse people and covet my children.”

Harry turned to her as he ended the charm. “What do you mean?”

“Does he need the nutrient?”

“Yes, I think he must live on potatoes and venison. What did you mean about him coveting our children? My biggest concern is that he might work to prevent us from having them or attempt to kill them before they can be a threat to him.”

“He wanted to take you, didn’t he? Arwen said his interest in teaching you was ardent. Do you suppose he’d be less interested in our child? More so, Harry, he doesn’t even really know what you’re capable of. But he will learn, won’t he? He’ll learn the depth and breadth of the power we share. The magic of this world is feral and fiercely interested in us both. I know you feel it. It’ll be just as fierce and invested in our children. They’ll be born here and their magic will wake here. They won’t be exactly like us, and he’ll certainly be inappropriately interested in them.”

“Well, then,” Dwalin began dryly as he took Thorin’s place on the table. “I guess after we kill the dragon we’ll trot off to Isengard and kill a wizard.”

“I’d appreciate the company,” Hermione said primly and turned to a new page in the book. “We should probably do medical histories for their families as well.”

“Why?” Dwalin asked as Hadrian started the spell.

“Some illnesses can run in a blood line,” Harry said as he worked.

“My mother died in child birth,” Dwalin said roughly. “And my father died at Khazad-dûm with King Thror. My grandfather and grandmother both died in Erebor when the dragon came. I can’t think of a single relation in recent history that died of what one would call a disease or even old age.”

“That’s a shame,” Hermione said quietly.

“I told you this world was dangerous,” Harry murmured. “169 years old, 4’9, 220lbs. He has some mild scar tissue in the left shoulder—it can be resolved with the potion, and he has a rib that I need to break, reset, and heal.” He frowned. “Do you have a lot of body pain?”

“Yes, I’m old,” Dwalin said with a huff. “My father’s bones hurt when he got older as well.”

“Is that inflammation marker what I think it is?” Hermione questioned.

“Yes.” Harry frowned. “Your pain tolerance is ridiculous Master Dwalin.”

“Just Dwalin, lad, am I sick?”

“It’s nothing that’ll kill you. You have a condition called rheumatoid arthritis which causes your joints to become inflamed which leads to bone and muscle pain. Stiffness, fatigue, and swelling can make you a really unhappy person generally.”

Thorin snorted. “He’s rather known for his poor disposition.”

“Chronic pain conditions can impact personality and mood,” Harry agreed.

“Can you fix it?” Dwalin asked roughly. “Does it make me a liability in a fight?”

“It certainly hasn’t so far,” Harry said. “And you’ve been suffering with it for over a hundred years. Fortunately, for you, your species is quite hardy. We can cure the condition with a long-term potion regimen that Hermione will have to brew. It’ll have to be tailored to your blood but in the mean time we can mitigate the discomfort with a daily pain potion.” Hermione left the table to retrieve the potion. “Get him a level three nutrient potion as well.”

“Anti-inflammatory?” Hermione questioned.

“We don’t have one in the dverger catalog,” Harry said. “And the human variant isn’t going to work on him.”

“So, he’s getting this from his hobbit genetics then,” Hermione surmised. “Get me a blood sample—I’ll start the diagnostic spells before I go to sleep this evening.” She proffered an empty vial first.

Thorin shifted forward to watch because he was curious as to how they were going to get the blood into the vial.

“If you’d remove your glove to expose the top of your hand, Dwalin?” Harry questioned.

The dwarf eyed him but did as instructed. “If you gotta do a deep cut, I’d prefer it be on a thigh than my arm or hand.”

“No cutting,” Harry assured. “It won’t even hurt. I just need a vein close to the surface of the skin.” He waved the vial. “This is enchanted to harvest blood. There is a rune etched into the glass. I just have to push against it with my magic.” He pressed the corked stopper of the vial against Dwalin’s skin, and the vial lit up gold briefly before blood flowed upward into it.

Dwalin huffed and turned to Thorin. “Baffling, indeed.”

Glóin, Óin, and Balin went after that with little to report beyond a few deficiencies due to diet. Thorin figured they were all going to have to suffer through some rather green meals in the future if Bilbo’s face was anything to go by. Dori looked pretty determined too. Maybe the fish would be the saving grace. He really hoped so. Fíli only needed the nutrient potion which was relief and an allergy potion because his little lion was allergic to the ponies.

When it came time for Kíli, his youngest nephew seemed to hesitate which was a concern since the lad rarely saw a situation he didn’t want to run head-long into. Kíli was frowning, shoulders tight as he moved up onto the table and Thorin considered dismissing the rest of the company. Hadrian seemed to understand the situation better than anyone because he stepped back instead of forward.

“Are you worried about the magic?” Harry asked. “At the most, it might tingle for you because of the curse on your blood line.”

Kíli took a deep breath. “It’s…my mother told me something before I left the Blue Mountains that I’ve told no one else. I’d rather it not be revealed here today because she only told me because she thought I might die on this quest and that I had the right to know just in case but it’s personal and….” He averted his gaze.

“Ah, lad,” Thorin said with a sigh. “Your mother’s secret isn’t much of a secret. You were born some twelve months after the death of her husband and a dwarven pregnancy is just ten months on average. Are you related to someone in this room beyond what we know? You can trust that nothing will be said outside of the company.”

Fíli went back to the table and hopped up on in it to sit with Kíli. “Come on, Kí, being Amad’s love child isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed,” Kíli protested. “I just…she kept my father’s name a secret for a reason, Fíli.”

Thorin sighed and turned to Hadrian. “Before the fall of Erebor there was a wedding between a Lord’s son and the niece of Thranduil of the Greenwood. It was a love match and one that resulted in a single child. Both mother and father perished in Smaug’s attack, but their son survived. He’s a decade older than me. My father allowed him to stay with us, but he was never kind to him because of his heritage. His name is Kael and when my sister went to our father and requested permission to seek Kael for courting he forbade it. Moreover, he told her if she ever looked at the…half-dwarf that he’d banish him from all dwarven settlements.”

“Kael’s a good dwarf though,” Glóin said. “He’s more than proved his loyalty and worth to us.”

“Thrain’s hatred for elves was profound,” Dwalin said. “He’d have probably….” He closed his eyes. “He’d have never accepted Kíli if he’d known. He’d have disowned and banished Dís for such an affair. I don’t blame either of them from keeping it a secret while he was alive.”

“Agreed but she could’ve told me. Kael stood with me in the defense of our clan for decades—he’d be on this quest right now if I hadn’t tasked him with protecting the settlement. I hit all of his weak spots regarding protecting what few we have left of our people and Dís whom I know he loves ardently in that conversation, but I had no idea I was taking his only child away from him as well.” Thorin grimaced. “I’ll have words with your mother, Kíli, but you have nothing to worry about. It doesn’t matter to me at all that Kael’s mother was an elf. I have fond memories of Amoniul.” He paused when Kíli frowned. “That was her name—your grandmother.”

Hadrian started the spell after that but Fíli stayed close, his fingers curled up with his brothers in a tight grip.

“Just a little bit of elf magic which is helping balance his nutritional needs very well so he’s good on the vitamin front. Kidneys are good despite the less than fantastic water sources they were using between the Shire and Rivendell.” Hadrian regarded Kíli shrewdly as he ended the charm. “You’re finished with puberty and your…oh, the bow? Right?”

Kíli shrugged. “It was snagging the fine hairs even in training and there is little agony like getting your hair ripped out repeatedly when it’s your own doing.”

Hadrian nodded and held out his hand which Kíli gamely took. “I don’t consider this an intimacy,” he said then put Kíli’s free hand against his beard. “I have a softening charm and one of the side-effects is that it prevents my beard from snagging on my clothes. It should prevent the same for your bow. We could set it with a rune under your jawline and anchor it to your small magic.”

“You’re incredibly attractive,” Kíli said and patted Harry’s bearded cheek. “This is like silk. Dwarrow would line up around the mountain to play with your hair if it all feels like this.”

Hermione huffed. “I’m more dangerous than Smaug, too, you know!”

“You’ve been cutting your beard, Kíli?” Ori asked in horror and clutched at his beard braids with a shudder.

“You make sacrifices for your weapon,” Dori said and nudged his youngest brother. “And his bow saved us during the orc fight before we reached Rivendell.” Dori stroked his beard. “Can I have one of those softening charms?”

“Like you need to be more attractive,” Balin said sourly and they all laughed when Dori puffed up and blushed furiously.

“Why do you soften your beard?” Thorin questioned.

“The women of my species have sensitive skin and beard burn is an excellent way to prevent myself from taking a woman into my bed,” Harry said and Bilbo huffed dramatically. “Oh, Ada.” He turned back to Thorin as he laughed. “Hobbits have sensitive skin, too.”

Thorin felt his cheeks flush, and he tried to frown at the wizard, but it was hard because he’d spent the better part of a week trying to figure out how he could win the young man’s respect so he could keep Bilbo. He’d start with asking for one of those softening charms, privately.

* * * *

As it worked out, Kíli was nervous about getting a rune carved into his skin so Thorin volunteered to have it done so his nephew could watch. He had to admit, hours later as he stroked his beard, that the change was dramatic. He kept it short since Azanulbizar out of grief and the private shame he endured for the death of his brother, but he couldn’t remember his facial hair ever being so soft—not even when he’d been very young and just starting to grow a beard.

The magical tent had made all the difference, Thorin thought, they were well-rested each night due to the security of the tent. They still kept a guard but only for an hour at a time and no one was exhausted or out of sorts. Food preparation took place entirely inside the tent, which could be set up in a matter of moments anywhere they happened to stop for a meal.

“Problem?”

Thorin turned slightly on his pony and glanced toward his cousin. Dwalin lifted an eyebrow. “Just…Fíli’s right, you know. Even in Erebor’s prime I never travelled with such ease or luxury. It’s disconcerting.”

“Not exactly the hardship I prepared for,” Dwalin admitted. “Or expected.”

“Shouldn’t it be hard won?” Thorin asked.

“If you’re asking me if you’ve fucking suffered enough to get our mountain back, Thorin, I’m going to tell the little baroness that you need mind healing. See if I don’t.”

“That’s a heinous threat to deliver on your king,” Thorin muttered. “She made Glóin talk about his feelings for an hour last night and accused him of compensating when he brags about Gimli because they never had more children.”

“She wasn’t wrong,” Dwalin pointed out.

Thorin sighed because it was true. Children in dwarrow settlements were rare, coveted, and often the source of bitter disappointment. He knew many dwarrow that would sacrifice their sword arm for a child of their own. His own clan had been devastated by the coming of Smaug and most of their dwarrowdams had perished in the mountain. Only forty females had made it out of Erebor and all the way to the Blue Mountains during the forced migration. There were Longbeards in the Iron Hills but none of them had been under his leadership, and he couldn’t trust them the same as those who had traveled with his grandfather and father. Many had turned their backs on the clan after the battle of Azanulbizar and Thorin hadn’t gone out of his way to try to lure them back.

He was sure if they retook Erebor that some of them would seek to return but he wasn’t sure he could be all that welcoming considering the many hard years his people had endured since Smaug came. There were six hundred twenty-two dwarrow in his halls in the Blue Mountains that took priority when it came to the resources and wealth that Erebor had to offer. They came first—no matter what the others may think. The lords had turned their backs on him, refused him aid and while he’d already forgiven them, he wouldn’t forget it. Not even his cousin, Dain, had backed him on the quest to take back the mountain and that had been the most galling thing of all. He hadn’t even shown up at the meeting himself. He’d sent his fucking steward.

“You look irritated.” Dwalin paused. “More irritated.”

“Just thinking about the future and the lords of the other settlements—they denied me like I wasn’t….”

“Their king,” Dwalin said grimly. “Make them regret it.”

“We can’t hold the mountain by ourselves, Dwalin,” Thorin admitted. “We can barely man the small mining operation in the Blue Mountains with our current number. It’d be the work of nothing for Dain or another clan to usurp my rule of the mountain if I don’t accept…immigration from other clans and mountains.”

“A fair-weather friend is no friend at all, you know,” Bilbo said as he urged his pony up even with the two of them. “You know the kind to show up for a meal but never stay around to clean up?”

Thorin couldn’t help but smile at the hobbit. “It’s quite a different matter when it comes to running a mountain the size of Erebor, Bilbo.”

“Is it?” Bilbo questioned and raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps it is, since you’re convinced you need to have a rock in your hand before any of those other dwarrow will acknowledge your claim as king. It’s almost like that bloody rock is king, actually.”

“The leadership of the dwarf clans swore their oath of fealty on the Arkenstone,” Thorin said roughly.

“So, you’re saying that currently Smaug is king under the mountain?” Bilbo asked tartly.

Thorin blinked and shared a look with Dwalin who looked torn between outrage and wounded shock. “I…shut up, Bilbo.”

Bilbo laughed and pulled an apple out of his mokeskin bag. He took a healthy bite and grinned widely as he chewed. Thorin had to admit in that moment that the hobbit had rarely been more attractive. His cheeks were flushed with amusement, and his eyes were practically dancing with good humor. It was really annoying. Thorin glared at him briefly, but his heart wasn’t in it. Also, the hobbit’s stupid hair was shining like gold in the afternoon sun which was ridiculous. Fíli was blond and his hair never did that.

He looked around and wasn’t all that surprised to find that everyone but him had pulled out a snack to eat. It was apparently time for afternoon tea, a hobbit meal they often travelled through, but Hadrian kept his father properly fed. The food issue was a deep source of shame for Thorin. Even in their darkest years, he’d never allowed anyone he was responsible for to go hungry. There were times when he’d bartered practically everything he owned away to feed his people. Even the jewelry he’d been wearing the day Erebor was lost to him had long since been sold. Times were no longer all that lean for his people, and they’d purchased supplies in keeping with what they assumed matched everyone’s needs. He’d already promised himself that he’d never make another assumption about hobbits as long as he lived.

Thorin pulled the small package of biscuits he’d been given from his pouch and ate one much to Dwalin’s amusement. He’d take his cousin’s amusement more seriously if the dwarf weren’t eating a handful of candied fruit that the baroness had produced from her bracelet. Dwalin loved sweets so it wasn’t a surprise when he’d chosen that as one of his ‘traveling snacks’.

He finished his final biscuit by the time they came to the river. The ford looked over run and much deeper than expected. They all dismounted and Thorin watched Hadrian shed his cloak.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m the tallest,” Harry said and raised an eyebrow when they all huffed at him. “It’s true and honestly I’m rather short for a male of my species. Regardless, I’m the tallest and this doesn’t look much like the ford it should be per the maps. But then I’ve heard stories about river men who move up and down the Anduin all the way to Gondor which means that its deep enough to keep a fairly large barge afloat.”

“I was told there was remnants of the bridge that used to be here but that doesn’t appear to be the case at least on this side of the river. It’s much wider than I anticipated for this area as well,” Thorin admitted.

“I imagine it was cleared away to secure the river way for traders,” Harry murmured.

“It’s moving pretty fast,” Hermione said. “I could….” She looked around them. “This feels magical, Harry.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “Very magical.” His wand appeared in his hand and sent a spell across the river.

“What’s that do?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin was always relieved when Bilbo immediately questioned his son regarding magic because they were all curious and the hobbit was the only one who could really get a way with endless questions about magic. The rest of them eventually got a quirked eyebrow from the wizard.

“He’s checking the area for spell work,” Hermione said.

“Elf magic leaves behind a lot of trace,” Harry said as he shifted the stream of his magic down river. “They’ve widened and deepened this to allow boat travel. We’re not crossing this on ponies.”

“I could build a bridge,” Hermione said.

Harry considered that and nodded. “Best choice at this point.”

The wizard pulled out the magical broom and Thorin frowned at the contraption. He’d had to lecture his nephews privately several times regarding the device as they both wanted to see if they had enough magic to fly it.

“Ada.” Harry mounted the broom and offered his hand to his father.

“I can cross over the bridge,” Bilbo exclaimed.

“No, it’s not a risk we’re taking,” Harry said and wiggled his fingers.

Bilbo huffed and passed his reins to Hermione. “I’m the parent.”

“You’re also the only member of the company utterly incapable of swimming,” Harry said tartly. “I have every faith in Hermione’s magic but we’re not going to take any chances when it comes to you and a large body of moving water.”

Thorin watched as Bilbo hesitantly threw a leg over the broom and settled down onto thin air.

“Comfort charms, eh?” Bilbo questioned.

“Of course, Ada, no wizard is going to ride a stick this narrow without one,” Harry said with a laugh. “Hold on.”

Thorin’s stomach lurched a little as Hadrian directed the broom upward and they shot across the expanse of the river. He huffed.

“He loves that broom,” Hermione said. “I hate to fly on a broom and avoid it whenever possible.” She shed her own cloak which she tossed across the back of the horse she and Hadrian shared. “You lot might want to back up a little and keep a grip on our rides. This might be startling for them.”

Dwalin took the reins for the horse and Bilbo’s pony, and they all moved back from the little witch. “What’s about to happen?”

“Harry’s going to throw a few trees at me,” Hermione said and grinned at the looks that earned her. “Wood is very easy to transfigure and there isn’t enough on this side of the river to build a bridge.”

The first profoundly tall tree came sailing, glowing with magic and she raised her wand. It spun in midair as she caught it with her own magic then it twisted and snapped before settling across the river with a slight bend upward. Another tree followed and she repeated the maneuver to create a second support for the bridge. Then a third. She put down four before she used the next five trees to create a series of planks for the floor of the bridge. It settled heavily and the air was full of the fresh scent of cut timber.

“Mahal’s hairy nutsack,” Balin muttered under his breath.

Hermione turned to stare at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry for the language, lass.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Let’s go.” She took the horse’s reins back and didn’t hesitate at all to step foot on the bridge she’d built.

They all followed—more determined not to be outdone by a woman than anything else because Thorin had to admit he was a bit concerned about walking on it regardless of what they’d already learned about magic. Once they were all over, she pointed her wand at the bridge, levitated it in the air, shrank it down, and summoned it. The tiny bridge landed in her outstretched hand she stored it.

“What?”

“You…hmmm….” Fíli bit down on his lip. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I might need the wood,” she said and shrugged.

Thorin was really looking forward to the day that someone needed a bridge for something, and the baroness would be able to supply one fully made with a flick of her little wrist. He was amused already. He hoped it was Dain or someone equally capable of causing a great big scene over it. Fondest wish decided, he focused on Bilbo who was having a whispered conversation with his son. They both looked tense and there was a strain of anger between them that hadn’t been there before they’d crossed the river.

“Is there a problem?”

Hadrian frowned and sent the forest ahead of them a dark look. “Yes, this forest is foul. Part of the Old Forest Road is overgrown but that’s manageable. We have our own food and water so that shouldn’t be an issue because I wouldn’t want to eat anything living or growing in that place.”

“The forest is too dark for Harry to be in,” Bilbo blurted out. “He thinks the two of them can handle it, but I don’t agree. There is no need to expose either of them to darkness like this when they could use the broom to fly over.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Harry snapped. “Not happening. You’ve already managed to pick up an evil ring, Ada. There’s no telling what might be going on this cursed forest that could be attracted to your magic.”

“I’m an adult,” Bilbo said sternly. He pointed a finger at Harry. “I changed your nappies.”

Harry flushed. “That argument is getting old, Ada.” He pointed a finger back at him. “One day, you’ll be old and I’ll change yours.”

That caused a startling amount of laughter from the rest of the company, which Thorin thought helped calm the two of them down. He’d rarely seen Bilbo truly angry, but it wasn’t much of a surprise that his temper would be up regarding his child’s safety even if said child was a grown wizard.

“How far are we from Erebor?” Hermione asked.

“Roughly four hundred miles,” Harry admitted and she frowned deeply at him. “What?”

“You could make that bloody trip in about four and a half hours on your broom.”

“Sure, by myself at top speed,” Harry agreed. “But….”

“Four and a half hours we could be in the tent perfectly safe,” Hermione continued. “Then you could apparate back here, make a freaking portkey and transport us all to the foot of that fucking mountain!”

“What’s a portkey?” Ori questioned. Thorin wasn’t surprised to turn and find the scribe sitting on a piece of stone work writing in his journal.

“A form of magical transportation,” Harry said and frowned. “We can’t get into the mountain until October which is several months away.”

“Are you telling me that the two of us couldn’t get into the side of that mountain with magic?” Hermione demanded.

“I honestly don’t know,” Harry admitted. “Plus, there’s the matter of the dragon.”

“How big is it?” Hermione questioned. “Horntail?”

“No, love, dragons on this world are on par with a basilisk. Smaug is probably every bit of 200 feet in length.” He winced when she paled.

“How do you expect to contain and kill a dragon that size?” Hermione demanded. “The two of us would have a hard time controlling one the third of that size. You barely managed to kill a basilisk that size on Earth, Harry. This is….” She took another breath and another.

“Hey, calm down,” Hadrian admonished and pulled her close. “It isn’t like we’re going go into the mountain without a solid plan.”

“How many people live near that mountain?” Hermione asked. “You said there was a town nearby? And there is an elven settlement in this forest? How many people are going to be at risk if we lose control of Smaug?”

“There’s Esgaroth. It’s south of Erebor and probably has a population of less than a thousand. I have no idea how many elves currently live in Mirkwood. When I was a young dwarf, it was home to thousands.” Thorin looked toward the forest. “But the forest is sick and there is the dragon consider—many of the humans and elves fled with us when Smaug came.”

“You’re all so dumb,” she declared crossly and pulled herself free of Harry’s embrace. “Is this quest anything more than a point of pride?”

Thorin considered that as she focused entirely on him. “My clan, the Longbeards, have lived in near poverty for hundreds of years because Smaug took our home. We live in a near dead mountain in the Blue Mountains and it is no better than charity from the true lord of those lands. At its height, Erebor was home to fifty thousand dwarrow—Longbeards brought to the mountain from Khazad-dûm. It was our last stronghold until the dragon came. Is pride an issue? Yes, of course, it is because I’m tired of my people having to beg for space while that creature wallows in the wealth of our ancestors.

“But this is our quest and I would not ask you or Hadrian to fight a dragon for us.”

“We need Erebor for the shelter it will provide Harry both before and after he destroys the Ring,” Bilbo said finally. “We can’t think for a moment that it will go unnoticed and there are many forces on Arda who will find great fault in his actions. There are many rings of power on this world, Hermione, and the ones forged by Sauron are all powered by the One Ring to some degree. There are ring bearers who will look on the destruction of the One Ring with relief and resentment at the same time. After all, even knowing that wearing one of the rings opens them up to being enslaved by Sauron hasn’t made them remove the damned things. It won’t take much for people to start to speculate about who had the ability to destroy the ring and they’ll look toward Harry for answers.”

“And those orc creatures follow Sauron.”

“Yes,” Harry said.

Hermione took a deep breath. “Scale of one to ten—one being a fat, fluffy kitten and ten being Voldemort riding a basilisk….” She grinned when Harry laughed. “Where is Sauron?”

Harry grew serious. “Twenty.”

She paled. “Harry.”

“He could drag an army of a half a million orcs out of the cursed ground if he were resurrected. He could bend the will of elves and men to his purpose if he has his ring. He’s a destroyer of worlds, Hermione. Voldemort would actually be a fat, fluffy kitten compared.”

Her eyes darkened. “I….”

“I can take you back to the Shire,” Harry said. “My grandmother would be happy….”

“I’ll punch you in your whole face if you finish that sentence,” Hermione snapped and she flicked the tent out of her bracelet and tossed it to a spot near the riverbank. It sprang up instantly. “You’re going to have to make a choice here.”

Thorin watched a series of emotions he couldn’t really discern cross the young wizard’s face.

“I’ll take one of the dwarrow with me,” Hadrian finally said. “And if you would stay in the tent with Ada, I would appreciate it. This forest can’t be trusted so keep everyone in the tent until I return.” He turned to Thorin then. “You’re the oldest amongst the company so is it safe to assume you know the mountain side best?”

“Yes.” He passed the reins of his pony to Dwalin who looked ready to protest. “Dwalin, I leave the heart of me in your hands.” He glanced pointedly toward his nephews. “Try to keep them from doing anything entirely stupid.”

“You’re going to ride on the broom,” Dwalin said with some amusement.

Far too quickly, Thorin found himself sitting on the back of the room. It drifted lazily up and he was hard pressed not to demand to know everything he could about the contraption.

“Relax, Your Majesty, I’ve never lost a passenger.”

Thorin huffed. Truth be known, the wizard said your majesty in a rather condescending manner. “I’d probably be comforted by that if I thought you could tolerate me.”

Harry laughed and Thorin looked down. The entire company had disappeared into the tent. They moved off at a sedate pace which he was thankful for.

“I guess I expected my Ada to be exactly where I left him when I returned to Arda which was short-sighted. It’s obvious he has some affection for you and that you return it. That’s annoying because I had him all to myself since we met. I’m used to being the center of his attention and I feel displaced.”

“Your father loves you.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that at all and I never would,” Harry allowed. “Merlin, it would probably be easier to burn this forest to the ground and plant another. The trees are laden with ill-intent and madness.”

“Trees can go mad?”

“There is a sentience in the trees of Arda. It was quite a surprise to find that wasn’t the case on Earth. The planet was brimming with life, mind you, but in many ways it felt like it was dying. There is magic in the ground and in the air here—stirred up by the various magics that saturate every living thing. While I have you as a captive audience, I wanted to talk to you about Kíli.”

“What about him?” Thorin asked.

“His small magic isn’t so small,” Harry admitted. “I didn’t mention it to him because I know he has issues with how much he stands out compared to other dwarrow.”

“Could he do magic like you?”

“No, not like me but he’s certainly capable of a great deal more magic than the average dwarrow. The unique mixture of his heritage—dwarf, hobbit, and elf—has made his magic dynamic in a way. He’d be capable of runic magic and enchantment. Those are gifts that your people had the past but lost sight of after the first age.”

“If Kíli could be taught such enchantment magic it would resolve an on going issue regarding his craft.”

“He hasn’t chosen a craft?” Harry asked in surprise. “At his age?”

“He’s drifted from one to another for four decades,” Thorin admitted roughly. He shifted his coat around him to ward off the chill.

“Sorry, it’s a bit cold up here but I wanted to get high enough that we wouldn’t be in range of an archer.” Harry pulled his wand and directed a spell his way. “Warming charm.”

“Thank you,” Thorin said. “I have to admit—this is a little more entertaining than I expected.”

“You have enough magic to fly a broom yourself,” Harry admitted. “But I only have this one. I have a few books on broom craft so we could probably make one as a project later on.”

“Sounds interesting,” Thorin said. “Kíli has a deft hand for wood carving. He carved his own bow as a matter of a fact. He spent the last decade building furniture for us to sell to fund the settlement. He’s good at it but it’s not exactly the craft of a noble born dwarf.”

“Gold smith, jeweler,” Harry supplied. “On Earth, a dverger with the skills to work with wood would be highly prized. Broomcraft, wand making, and the creation of staves require a great deal of magical instinct and talent. If he can handle rune craft, Hermione can teach him. She’s very good at it and has a lot of texts we can translate for him on the subject. I just wanted to mention it to you before we approached him since he is your heir and I wouldn’t want to interfere in whatever path has already been set of him because of that.”

“I’ve never allowed anyone to tell my nephews where they could go and what they could learn,” Thorin admitted. “That was done for me when I was being raised in Erebor, and I was not in any single way prepared to deal with the world at large after Smaug came. I wasn’t spoiled, exactly, but I wasn’t prepared for reality. I never tried to shelter or control Kíli or Fíli because of that.” He looked up ahead and his breath caught as they turned slightly.

Erebor loomed in the distance. He hadn’t seen his home in over a hundred years.

“Looks lovely,” Harry said. “Too bad about the dragon infestation.”

Thorin sighed. “Out of all the things you could’ve learned from your father, did it have to be his terrible sense of humor?”

Harry laughed.

“Speaking of your father,” Thorin began but paused when Hadrian sighed loudly enough to be heard over the wind. “What?”

“I’m far too old to act like a jealous child because of….” He waved a hand.

“Both hands on the stick!” Thorin shouted as the broom jerked briefly.

Harry looked over his shoulder with a grin. “As I was saying, I’m too old to be a git about your potential relationship with my Ada but just remember, please, that he’s not a dwarf.”

“It’d be difficult to forget he’s a hobbit,” Thorin pointed out dryly.

“What I mean to say is that he has his own ideas about what is proper and what is not,” Harry said. “Common place behaviors amongst my own kind or yours would leave him utterly scandalized. Also, not to put to fine a point on it since I’d rather not ever have a full discussion about it, he’s smaller than you. You have three times his strength and stamina just because of your species.”

Thorin sucked air between his teeth as his cheeks heated. He couldn’t believe he was blushing at his age. “Shut up, lad.”

Harry laughed. “No need for a full discussion, I promise.” He paused. “Though, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that the average penis length for a male hobbit is four inches.”

“Hadrian,” Thorin growled in warning.

 “All, I’m saying is that Ada might find your anatomy surprising. But no worries, though, I have a cousin who’s married to a human male, and they don’t seem to have a problem…ya know…fitting together.”

“For the love of Mahal, I’ll make you turn this broom around!” Thorin shouted.

* * * *

“Well, the dragon’s still alive,” Harry said he watched smoke drift out of a vent shaft.

“Yes,” Thorin agreed. “This is the location that the map gives us for the hidden door. So, it’s somewhere, carved into the stone. We aren’t in the right light to see it, of course.”

“Do you trust the map?”

“I trust my father and he wanted me to have the map,” Thorin said. “He labored under the curse but…I believe he was rational enough to walk away before he damaged our people further.”

Harry nodded and looked out toward the lake and the bustling wooden town below them. “Who the hell builds a town this close to a dragon made of wood?”

Thorin sighed. “People with few choices I would imagine. Smaug’s invasion destroyed much of the area and left many people without homes—not just my own. The Dale was a prosperous and thriving kingdom before he laid waste to it. Do you think the curse brought him?”

“After a fashion,” Harry said. “He was certainly lured here by the gold your grandfather was hoarding. It’s a long game to play but Saruman isn’t exactly pressed for time. He’s moving people around—shifting attitudes, destroying alliances, and strongholds so that when the time is right….” He trailed off.

“Does he serve Sauron or himself?”

“Perhaps a little bit of both,” Harry decided. “He’d certainly rule in Sauron’s place if given the opportunity. When a maia falls from grace, Master Oakenshield, there is no telling how or where he’ll eventually land.”

“Do you worry about Gandalf taking such a fall into the same darkness?”

“No, not at all. He’s already faced that trial and passed. The day I was dropped in his hands, literally, he was given all the power he could need to rule or destroy this world. And he took me to the Shire and gave me to a hobbit to raise. Gandalf the Grey may yet fall but when he rises he’ll be in the light in a way none of us have ever seen before.” Harry stored his broom and drew his wand. He planted an apparition point with a single silent spell and took a deep breath. “Let’s get back to the company before Hermione takes over your people entirely. I’m pretty sure, honestly, that she only lets people around her pretend they’re in charge.”

Thorin laughed though he couldn’t disagree. “She reminds me of my sister—the strength of heart and mind can’t be denied. Dís essentially decided that I could remain king of our people because politics are boring.”

Harry laughed. “At least you know she won’t try to have you dethroned later because the politics certainly won’t get easier when you’re sitting on the biggest hoard of gold in Arda.” He walked over to Thorin. “Put your hand on my shoulder and don’t let go. We’re going to apparate back to the tent. It’ll be a little harsh but not painful, like you’re being pulled through the keyhole of a lock.”

“Sounds pleasant,” Thorin muttered as he put his left hand on Hadrian’s shoulder.

“It’s terrible but fast,” Harry said and magic rushed around them.

They left the side of mountain with a faint pop and reappeared in front of the tent. Gandalf was sitting on the masonry that Ori had been using as a seat with his pipe in hand.

“That was…deeply disturbing,” Thorin decided and released Hadrian. “I’d rather never do it again.”

“Hadrian.” Gandalf stood. “I’d hoped to catch up with you before you crossed the river but was delayed by a conversation.” He grimaced. “A long and tedious one.”

“Saruman didn’t stay in his tower then,” Harry surmised.

“No, he did,” Gandalf said. “But I had the misfortune to arrive in Lothlórien around the same time as Thranduil did. Galadriel called upon him to investigate the situation at Dol Guldur. He didn’t believe Radagast regarding the attack he suffered so the arguments were long.”

“Radagast may be a bit of a nutter but he’s not a liar,” Harry said mildly. “Thranduil just didn’t want to be bothered with it all and now he has no choice. Mirkwood is his domain after all, and he’s let it go to….” Harry waved a hand toward the forest. “It’s a nightmare in there, Gandalf. When do you intend to go to Dol Guldur?”

“Elrond and Galadriel already travel in that direction. I’ll be joining them, but I wanted to make sure the company was proceeding on schedule. Arrival before Durin’s day is key.”

“Key to what?” Harry questioned and sighed when Gandalf just smiled. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll interfere in whatever plan you have if I don’t have the details?”

“I’m sure things will work out just as they should,” Gandalf decided. “Besides, I’ve learned over the years that one can’t plan for you, Hadrian. You’re an amazing bit of chaos in this world and I can’t think it’s a bad thing at all no matter what Saruman thinks.”

Harry grimaced and said nothing when the dwarf king glanced between them and walked away. He felt Gandalf’s magic drift away as Oakenshield disappeared into the tent. “It’s rude to use your magic to influence people like that. I thought better of you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Gandalf said cheerfully. “Besides, I wished to speak to you privately.”

Harry joined him on the broken masonry and glanced down the river. “How far behind is Azog at this point?”

“A week, maybe less. Crossing the river will slow him down due to the ford’s removal. He’ll have to travel far down river to cross with his army to avoid the loss of his wargs and the smaller orcs. Not that he cares if they live or die but I imagine he’ll want them to live long enough to fight whatever battle he sees for himself in the future against the dwarrow. His desire to end the line of Durin is ardent.”

“It’s rare for an orc to develop that kind of personal grudge. Is it all to do with Khazad-dûm or are there other issues at play? Is he being directed by someone?”

“I’ve no evidence of that,” Gandalf murmured. “But I must admit that lately that your distrust of Saruman has caused me concern in matters that it never has before. I’ve trusted him for many thousands of years, Hadrian, and yet I cannot overlook your impressions of him.”

“He cursed the line of Durin,” Harry murmured. “It’s a blood curse, Gandalf, I’ve already begun investigating it and I have to tell you…it’s disgusting and profoundly dark. The root of it is in Erebor because of the company members only those who are of the line and who were in the mountain itself have it active in them. It’ll get worse the closer they get to the mountain.”

“Why would he….”

“Why did you encourage Oakenshield to take on this quest now?”

“We need strength in the east,” Gandalf murmured. “The orcs are emerging in frightening numbers and the Longbeards in Erebor were once a force to be reckoned with. We need that strength to fight against the darkness that comes for us.” He closed his eyes briefly. “He cursed the line and brought down the wrath of a dragon to destabilize the east.”

“Yes.”

“That’s why he was so furious over my machinations with the dwarrow and the quest,” Gandalf murmured. “He knew what I was doing long before we reached Rivendell. So, he….”

“Set Azog the Defiler on the company’s trail,” Harry said grimly. “I think so, yes.”

“I have some work to do then,” Gandalf murmured. “Things to learn, people to speak with.”

“Certainly.”

“I trust you’ll take care of this Erebor situation for me then?” Gandalf questioned.

“You know I’m not capable of killing a dragon by myself, right?” Harry said roughly. “It’s the work or two or three of my kind to subdue a dragon even the third the size of Smaug on my world.” He sighed when Gandalf just smiled cheerfully. “I’ll figure something out. We’ll be disappearing for a while, by the way. But you’ll know where to find us on Durin’s day.”

“Certainly,” Gandalf agreed and stood. He stared into the forest and cleared his throat. “Hadrian, there are matters of fate in play here.”

“You mean Oakenshield, right?” Harry questioned. “Well, if you wanted him to die on this quest, Gandalf, you should’ve picked a different hobbit. Because my ada happens to like that old dwarf more than is reasonable which means he’s going to die of old age on the throne of Erebor if I have a single thing to say about it.” He glared at Gandalf when the wizard started to speak. “I mean it. My father has lost enough in this world.”

“I don’t want any of them to die but I’m not sure we have any say it. Fate is a terrible force in the world, Hadrian, and you know that as well as I do.”

“Fate can kiss my arse,” Harry said darkly and stood. “Ada seems to have adopted thirteen dwarrow and I’ll be making sure he gets to keep them…no matter what Eru, Mahal, Saruman, or Sauron might have planned.”

Gandalf’s lips quirked briefly. “And what of Yavanna?”

“No one messes with Yavanna’s plans,” Harry said gravely. “That’d be ridiculous.”

Gandalf laughed.

He took out an herbal and lit it even as Gandalf ambled away as if he had no where important to be. Harry appreciated the bit even if it was frustrating as it certainly shielded the maia from the kind of scrutiny that could get him killed. Saruman didn’t think Gandalf was any sort of threat, and that was a mistake.

Hermione left the tent and walked across the small path to join him. “You’re brooding.”

“I’ve plenty to brood about,” Harry admitted. “I thought…this is going to sound terribly selfish.”

“Go ahead.”

“I was done with all that awful crap on Earth, and I thought coming home would be an opportunity to rest,” he said quietly. “I planned to just loll about in the Shire for a while—maybe years. I figured we’d go on trips here and there as my ada wished, and eventually I might find…someone to partner with that wouldn’t have foolish expectations about me.”

“It sounds…quiet,” Hermione said. “Is that you truly want? A quiet life?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “Maybe I’m not meant for such a thing, or maybe the choice I’ve made have put me in a place where it would never be possible no matter what I wanted. I didn’t plan for you, certainly, and while I don’t think you have foolish expectations about anything much less me—you do have expectations.”

“Yeah, but just normal ones,” Hermione said in amused tone. “Cho certainly made it known that you’re a fantastic shag. So….” She trailed off when he huffed then laughed. “She did.”

“I just bet,” Harry muttered. “She was a lovely person. It makes me furious to think that Dumbledore might have gotten her killed on purpose. He might have even done it himself. Is there any limit to what he’ll do to control a situation he thinks should be in his control?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted. “I feel safe here—which is ridiculous considering the orcs and all the dragon and all the other crap I don’t know enough about to fear. I don’t remember ever feeling safe on Earth—not since I was very small. My parents tried, certainly, but I saw too much and understood far more than any child should from a very early age. I knew the world was dangerous. I knew that other people were also very dangerous.”

“I’m not sorry that I killed Lucius Malfoy before you could,” Harry admitted. “I’d like to do it several more times just in case I missed some small amount of satisfaction that could’ve been had.”

Hermione sighed. “It would be gratifying, I suppose, to make sure you didn’t miss out on any part of the experience. But, it would also be kind of mental. You being a bit crazy isn’t actually a deal breaker, but let’s try to keep it as chill as possible.”

“Chill,” Harry repeated, and nodded slowly. “I’ll work on it, but I was raised by a hobbit, and it might not be clear to you, yet, but they don’t excel at that sort of thing.”

“Being chill?”

“No, drama is practically a way of life in the Shire.” Harry took her hand in his, laced their fingers together and slowly relaxed. “How’d things go while we were gone?”

“Your ada fretted a bit about the two of you being alone. He seems to think you don’t like Thorin.”

“Oh, I don’t,” Harry confessed and Hermione huffed. “I’ll get over it. He’s just all up in my ada’s space and that’s weird for me.”

“Your ada certainly deserves to be happy,” Hermione said pointedly. “And Thorin appears to make him happy.”

“Which is exactly why I’m going to keep all of those dwarrow alive,” Harry said after casting a privacy charm.

“Is that a concern?” Hermione questioned and glanced toward the tent.

“Gandalf seemed to think there was an air of fate around Oakenshield and warned me against setting myself against it.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I didn’t care about Fate or what it might want,” Harry said. “I might have been more blunt about it. But the sentiment remains the same. If Fate or Eru didn’t want me interfering then they shouldn’t have let me come back to Arda. It seems like Eru’s blessing to be here is also permission to do as I wish as long as it is for the good. He also let you come here, so, there’s that as well. He clearly expects us to be agents of immense change. Our magic will change the fate of many, no matter what we might intend.”

“Fate can be cruel,” Hermione said quietly. “Frankly, I’ve no use for such things—I believe in free will. I believe we make our own destiny.”

“Let’s just agree going forward that is exactly what we’ll do,” Harry said quietly. “We’ll make a better destiny for ourselves and everyone around us.”

“Deal.” She squeezed his hand and huffed. “Was the dragon still there?”

“Yeah.”

“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered, took his herbal from his hand and took a long drag from it then just shook her head.

The End

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