Date: Wed, 14 Jan 2004 20:56:55 +0000 From: Meta4 <meta4@meta4.org> Subject: Harry Potter and the Rising of the Dark, chapter 4 HARRY POTTER AND THE RISING OF THE DARK by Meta4. Chapter 04. The Eleven (Elven?) Commandments ================================ 1. Thou shalt bow to J.K. Rowling, creator of the Potterverse! 2. Thou shalt acknowledge all characters created by Her. 3. Thou shalt acknowledge the trademarks of Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. 4. Thou shalt not read the story herein if Slash offendeth you. 5. Thou shalt not read this story if thou art not old enough so to do. 6. Thou shalt not pass the work herein as thine own. 7. Thou shalt not gain profit from distributing the work herein. 8. Respect thy mother and thy father - only read this work when they are out. 9. Thou shalt acknowledge My copyright 10. Thou shalt contact Me if thou likest or thou detesteth this work. 11. Thou shalt never piss off an Elf... HARRY POTTER AND THE RISING OF THE DARK by Meta4 <meta4@meta4.org> CHAPTER FOUR:: Donkey! Hermione slowed rather abruptly to a very civilised walking pace as she approached the Library. It wasn't a huge room, but somehow the rows of bookcases seemed to go on longer than the depth of the room itself. She smiled cordially at the Librarian who was having a miniature battle with a rather vicious looking book. The book, though small, made up for its diminutive size with enthusiasm and determination in defending the corner of her desk which it appeared to have claimed as its territory. Hermione led us all to the very far end of the Library which, judging by the levels of dust present, was very rarely visited. She walked along the shelf until she came to the volume she was looking for. "Magical Muggles and Evasive Elves: a complete reference to the more obscure members of the magical fraternity." she announced. "Do I look obscure to you?" I asked Harry, who seemed to be momentarily lost in his own world again. He looked at me and smiled, but instead of him answering or looking away, he held the glance for just a little longer than I'd have expected. A moment later, it was as if he suddenly realised he'd been staring and became highly interested in the scroll-work at the end of the bookshelf, cheeks reddening slightly. "Have a look at this, Liam," Hermione enthused as she dropped the book onto the desk, vortices of dust swirling up from under it. "'Woodland Elves have been thought to be extinct since the early tenth century, however their legacy lives on in Elf / Muggle crossbreeds. To the casual observer, an Elven descendant looks just like a tall, extremely fair-haired Muggle but closer examination can reveal the tell-tale signs: They have a fairly light build that belies the above-average strength they possess; they are extremely well co-ordinated with sharp senses and lightning-quick reactions; they all, without exception in the author's experience, have eyebrows that are a good few shades darker than the rest of their hair; they tend to be impulsive and passionate with a very quick temper and they they are quick-witted and most have a very firm command of language, allowing them to provoke reaction in their chosen subject.'" "I think I can vouch for all of that," said Ron, rubbing his left arm where I'd caught him with the baseball bat the night before. Hermione continued: "'Woodland Elves also possess a unique mental focusing capacity, allowing them to perform highly complex spells and enchantments without the use of a wand, familiar, incantation or other aid. Whilst the effects of Elf Magic are broadly similar to Wizard Magic, the conception, induction, control and execution of such is a mystery to most Wizards. Additionally, the power and scale of a well-trained Elf's magic in the majority of magical disciplines can easily dwarf those of even the most accomplished wizard. Thankfully, although the majority of Elves are mischievous creatures, it is unusual for them to use their extensive capabilities in malice. Whatever you do, do not cross an Elf, much less threaten his family or friends, as the consequences can be - and usually are - catastrophic.'" Hermione swallowed, looking at me with a new-found respect. "Oh, great - now not only am I obscure, but I'm a walking catastrophe waiting to happen!" "So d'you think you'll stay here?" asked Ron. "I mean, it's quite some power you've got there..." "If I've got it. Remember the most magical thing I seem to have done so far is break that Malfoy kid's nose with my fist." "And indeed the laughter it produced was magical." We all turned to see Dumbledore smiling from behind his beard. "I can't condone violence between my students, but as Mr. Blackdon has yet to enroll I'm afraid there's precious little I can do." he sighed, eyes twinkling. "I see you have found my book Miss Granger - I was hoping I might refer to it in order to jog my memory. But, as you have found it first..." "Oh, no sir - please take it," she said, closing the cover, only then noticing the diminutive "by Albus Dumbledore" on the bottom of the cover. She smiled and handed it to the Headmaster. "Thank you. I'm hoping that I might remember an old friend of mine who may be in a better position to help our new friend. I shall drop this into the Gryffindor common room when I am finished with it. With Madam Pince's approval, of course," he added swiftly, checking over his shoulder. He leaned towards us, whispering, "I borrowed a book once without asking and received quite a nasty nip from it, not to mention the devastation it caused to my favourite pair of slippers." As Dumbledore smiled and turned to leave, I felt I had to make a decision about staying. I'd be at a boarding school: Away from home and under supervision almost twenty-four hours a day. On the other hand, if even a tenth of what Dumbledore had written about Elves was true, did I really have a choice? "Professor Dumbledore?" "Yes, Liam," "If I decide to stay, am I, like, stuck here? I mean would I be allowed to leave if I wanted?" "Obviously, Liam, we'd encourage you to complete your academic studies here and, as such, we couldn't act as a place to stay for a few days and then meander off again. However, like any student here, you are free to leave at any time should you so wish." "And my parents? They're not the most rational people in the world..." "Would they be particularly averse to your leaving?" "Are you kidding? I think they'd throw a party!" "Then we can word a letter saying you've been awarded a place at a prestigious academic institution - which also has the advantage of being totally true." "It's a no-brainer then, really, ain't it? Where do I sign?" Dumbledore chuckled and Harry seemed especially pleased. "Harry, perhaps you'd be so good as to escort Liam to my office after Lunch, we can then get him sorted into a house. The password is Humbug." "Yessir," he replied, smiling at me all the time, though. ========== "Where does he get his passwords from?" I asked Harry as we walked past the statue towards Dumbledore's office. "He has this thing about muggle sweets - he seems to really love them," "Ahh... You know, I'm sure he's perfectly sane, but he does act just a bit..." "Mad? Yeah," smiled Harry. "It's his way of assessing people - they're usually at ease with him and think he's loopy, so they say stuff they might not otherwise." "Clever bloke, Dumbledore." "Mmm..." We knocked on the door to his study and opened it after hearing a muffled "Enter" from within. "Ahh, Harry, Liam, do come in and make yourselves comfortable." We walked over to his desk and sat in two of the three chairs arranged before his desk. Now I was hoping that our..." The office door burst open and a rather tall, blond guy came racing in. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Sorry I'm late," panted the bloke as he skidded to a halt beside Dumbledore's desk. "On the contrary, impeccable timing as ever. Still lacking basic courtesies in certain areas, though," chuckled Dumbledore. "Oh, crap - sorry - must remember to knock next time," he said as he began to regain his breath. He looked to be eighteen or nineteen, had shoulder-length, die-straight blond hair tied back in a pony-tail and a rather thin complexion, not dissimilar to my own... Shit - he must be an Elf too! He walked back round Dumbledore's desk to us and dropped into the remaining seat. "Umm, the door, if you wouldn't mind?" "Huh? Oh," said the bloke as he saw he'd left the door wide open. He turned slightly in his seat and held the tips of his middle finger and thumb together as if he were about to flick a fly from his arm, but instead flicked towards the door, which closed with a heavy wooden thud. "Right, now that we are all here, Harry, Liam, may I introduce you to Robernonoch Leh-Nahtu-ne." "But all my friends call me Bob," he grinned, holding out his hand to me. I shook it, still not quite believing how similar we looked. "Where did you find this one, Albus? He's almost pure Elf!" "He nearly killed and then promptly saved one of our pupils from a Death Eater," "Joyriding?" he grinned at me. I nodded. "What car?" "S-3," "Oooh - good choice," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "That's Liam Blackdon, and this is Harry Potter," Bob leaned over me and shook Harry's hand as well. "Boys, I've asked Bob here to come and act as tutor in the ways of Elvish Magic for a select few of you. Although humans find the Elf way of doing things extremely difficult to master, the concepts are still sound and will help you enormously with the more conventional wand magic. "As Liam has decided to join the school, I think it only fitting that he be sorted into a house." "Are you sure that's wise, Albus? I mean he'll wipe the floor with the opposition," deadpanned Bob as he winked at me. "I'm sure we'll manage, Bob, but thank you for your concern..." "Do you still use that... Ooh! _THERE_ he is," grinned the Elf, leaping up, walking over the arms of my and Harry's chairs and then bouncing over to the bookcase on the far wall. He picked up a tattered old leather hat that seemed to grunt as he did so. "Hello, Mr. Sorting Hat," yelled Bob into its base. "It's that time of year again!" "Bob, do you think it would be possible for you to stop antagonising our sorting hat?" "Awww, but he loves it so, Albus." He tickled the hat under its "chin", only to get his finger bitten by the brim. He quickly drew his finger back, more in surprise than anything, before walking over to me and placing the hat on my head. "Not another Elf," moaned the hat in a reedy, tired old voice. "But if I must... Right then... Right! Well, we've got ourselves a standard Elf here, but wait... There's a little more to this one than meets the eye... Normally I' wouldn't hesitate to place an Elf, but you lad are slightly deeper than that... But I suppose overall, you're overwhelmingly GRYFFINDOR!" I peeped out from under the brim to see Harry looking more relieved than anything. Bob picked the hat off my head and was just about to throw it back onto the shelf James Bond style when Dumbledore caught his eye, and he proceeded to put it back gently. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Liam. Remember, the staff here, no matter what they say or how they act, are here to help you learn and better yourself. Your head of house is Minerva McGonagall and she'll act as your primary contact to the staff. Obviously, you may talk to any member of staff - including myself - in the strictest of confidence whenever you so wish, but I must warn you that I have a rather hectic schedule and as such may not always be available to see you." I nodded my understanding. "Good. Now then, I'm sure Mr. Leh-Nahtu-ne would like to get started on his lessons this afternoon..." Dumbledore looked over at Bob who was now fiddling with one of the many little gadgets and gizmos that lined Dumbledore's office and produced the continual buzzing, whirring and clicking noises that one could always hear. He spun round looking rather sheepish. "Yes, headmaster, of course," he smiled. "Excellent. Mr Potter, I'm afraid you're going to have to rescue Mr. Weasley from Divination and Miss Granger from Arithmancy in order to attend this class with Mr. Leh-Nahtu-ne - we'll see if we can't come up with a more suitable arrangement for Miss Granger at a later date but I'm under the impression neither you nor Mr. Weasley will miss Divination too much. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've been asked to London by the Ministry of Magic - I haven't been able to see them recently and they appear to miss the opportunity of boring me to tears with proposed legislation on exploding litter bins..." ========== Bob was cool. He just didn't seem to give a shit about authority or formality in any way, yet somehow you just knew you'd never be able to get one over on him. He decided it would be good to start off by going through any questions we had. "So why are you so different to House Elves?" asked Hermione, who'd obviously been itching to air that question since reading Dumbledore's book. "Ahh, right - slightly sticky one, this," sighed Bob, making himself a little more comfortable on the desk he was sat on. He, like me, was dressed in black, but somehow he managed it just a little more stylishly than myself - a black, collarless shirt with silver buttons, black jeans and slightly pointy boots with silver buckles. "Quite when the House Elf came into existence we're not sure. Overall, there are four types of Elves. "House Elves like Dobby seem to have been a very weak, submissive race that was 'domesticated' by magical humans many ages ago. Cave Elves and Grassland Elves had it in for one another and were constantly battling between each other for land and overall supremacy - a war that only ended when there were no more of them to fight it. Physically, they were slightly shorter than your average Human and nothing special to look at. "Woodland Elves - that's us," he indicated at himself and me "-were indigenous to Norway but, as with most species, Muggles started to encroach on our homes. Thankfully it wasn't too bad in our case as to all intents and purposes we looked human. In a sense, that was one of the root causes for the whole Elf / muggle hybrid thing, and once that had happened, we seemed to spread easily across the globe. "Elf lineage is a funny thing, though, and the whole genetics debacle is even worse. In theory there's no way for a pure Elf to be born but the genes seem to wax and wain of their own accord - sometimes they become very dominant even with eighth- or sixteenth-Elf parents while others look totally human with very Elvish parents. I mean, you for example, Liam - you are as best as I can feel a hundred percent Elf with a few human traits. I'm guessing that your parents were fairly non-remarkable?" I nodded. "Well, if then for example they were a quarter-Elf, that would making you at best a fifty-percenter, but you're the full-on, real deal Elf - congratulations! "Anyhoo, I suppose I'd better start teaching you or something... Ugh, where to start?" "I thought you were a professor," blustered Hermione, not taking too kindly to Bob's prevarication or being dragged out of Arithmancy. "Well, I am, but each person I teach is different and needs a different starting point... I guess I'll start by going through why Elf magic is so different to Wizard magic. Wizards tend to use wands, broomsticks and stuff, usually combined with an incantation or phrase, in order to perform it. "The reason you do this is fairly simple, but you need to understand a little more about yourselves: The human mind is a Maelstrom of thoughts, emotions, ideas, memories and a whole host of other distractions. As a consequence, Humans need something to cut through all the mental noise to catch their mind's attention and focus it on the task in hand. For example..." Bob jumped off the desk and took two books from the nearest bookcase. He then placed them about a foot apart on the desk. "Here are two books. Miss Granger, I'd like you to take one of the books and open it to page fifty-eight without moving from your seat." Hermione pulled out her wand, cast "Accio Book!" to bring it to her, and then leafed through to the required page. "Very good indeed," smiled Bob. "Although Elves would do it like this:" He held out his hand and immediately the book floated into the air and, as it was travelling towards him, flicked to page fifty-eight. "No incantations and no waving lumps of tree in the air," he grinned. "So why do people like Mr. Ollivander consider wand-making to be such an art form?" asked Ron. "And when my wand broke, any spell I tried to cast went all over the place..." "That's because the thing that trained your thoughts - your wand - had been broken. In all likelihood, had you not known your wand was broken you wouldn't have noticed - it's not really anything to do with the wand itself. "Or at least to a certain extent - wands do have a natural ability to focus magical energies or whatever you want to call them, much in the same way a lightning conductor attracts a static discharge. Different people produce slightly different types of energy, and so the wand has to be 'tuned' to the owner for maximum efficiency - therein lies the art. Not a vast amount of use to your average Elf, though - the type of energy we produce seems to be foreign to wands. That's why, to us at any rate, they're just lumps of wood." "And what about broomsticks?" asked Harry. "Same again - they're just a focus for the rider's mind, allowing him or her to apply their interpretation of physics and magic to a physical object." "So... Elves don't need broomsticks to fly?" "Not at all." "Prove it." "What, like this?" Bob floated up from the floor for a few seconds, did a brief lap of the classroom and landed gently back in his original sitting position on the desk. "Wicked," smiled Ron. "It's all just based around mind discipline and what you totally believe - actually, no - what you KNOW you can do. For example, I KNOW I can turn that desk into a donkey." And he did so. "Or turn it back." The rather bemused looking donkey was replaced by the original desk again. "See? Easy." "Easy?" blustered Hermione. "That scale of transfiguration is highly advanced! It can take years to master something as complicated as..." Hermione was cut short. "Well, yes, if I was TRANSFIGURING the desk it would take an awfully long time. I just wanted the desk to turn into a donkey." "But isn't that the same thing?" "The end result is, yes - but the way of doing it is miles simpler. Elves can suspend disbelief and distraction and just focus on the outcome. Everything else just takes care of itself. Humans tend to be of the mind-set that they have to think in a complicated way to achieve something complicated, and that works for them. Elves are simple, so we do things simply." "So why exactly are we being trained if only Elves can do this?" "Well, its not just elves that can. Think about how wizard children behave - they have an innate magic that protects them from harm or acts when they get angry." "Like when I found myself on the roof of my muggle school and I didn't know how I got there?" asked Harry, remembering some of the stranger things that happened to him before he came to Hogwarts. "Exactly. As a child, you can believe in almost anything without proof. Your mind is not cluttered with the worries of daily life and so the magic shines through. Some humans have the strength of mind to regain that child-like clarity and innocence. Surely Dumbledore must have made you lot tea at some stage?" We all nodded. "He doesn't say a word when he conjures that tea-set - something the majority of wizards would have an extremely hard time with. He's using Elven magic." Even to me, wizard newbie, this did actually make sense. I mean, you wanted a table to become a donkey. Fair enough - just concentrate on the table becoming a donkey and... A very loud "Eee-orrrr" made everyone jump, not least Bob who suddenly found himself sitting on said animal. "Ha!" I laughed out loud. "Well fuck me - it really is that easy!" Bob grinned. "Yep. Definitely a true-blue Elf we have here." "Anyone else? Oh, Liam, d'you think I could have my desk back before it craps all over the place?" "Oh, yeah.." I concentrated on the donkey and realised I could see the form which it had originally been in, namely the desk, and kinda nudged it back into that form. The desk re-appeared exactly where it had been, cutting my donkey off mid-bray. I looked around the room, giving each object my eyes landed on more than just a cursory glance. It was as if everything had a story to tell, about where it had been and what it had seen. It all seemed very confused, but if I just kept it simple and concentrated on a particular facet like 'how old are you' the answer just seemed to float into my mind. Well weird. Not half as weird as looking at my new friends, though. It appeared that not only were they glowing but they each seemed as if they were wearing their hearts on their sleeves - Hermione seemed to just be shouting about how excited she was to see this. Ron too was excited, but he seemed to have a twinge of envy mixed in there, too. Bob's glow, a totally different hue to the others, seemed to shout pride at me, whilst Harry... Oh crap - that was definitely 'I want in your pants'. I popped a boner immediately and shuffled in my chair to try and conceal it as best as I could. "Strange at first, isn't it," smiled Bob. "You could say that," I gasped, trying to keep a handle on reality. "What am I seeing?" "Everything, pretty well - emotion, time, life, form - the whole lot rolled into one. Just think clearly about it - if you decide not to see it, you won't. Remember that when you go into the great hall this evening or it may knock you for six." "What's going on?" asked Harry, looking rather concerned. "Liam's just found out exactly what he is and is rather taken aback by it all. Each one of us interprets this to a greater or lesser extent - wizards call it empathy. Elves have that same talent, but on steroids. It's quite breathtaking when you first have it happen to you, although I must say this is the quickest a young Elf in my charge has ever picked up on it." "I'm gonna have so much fun with this," I grinned.. "Oh, trust me, you will, but take a moment to think about your actions before you perform them." The jovial Bob suddenly went very serious. "Remember, you have the power to snap a man's neck at a hundred paces, incinerate a whole city or, quite literally, bring the sky crashing down about your ears - none of which are desirable. You have a temper - all Elves do - but you also have the presence of mind to control it. If you don't you can wreak havoc like no other being on this planet. "Above all, remember - and I apologise to those present for using this term - that you must respect the privacy, wishes and lives of lesser creatures. Don't underestimate them or think any less of them, either. We were an unpopular race due in no small part to arrogance. Just remember that." There was a rather thoughtful silence as I realised absolutely everything he said is true. I mean, if I could imagine it, I actually knew I could do it. My head felt light from the sheer feeling of omnipotence, a state I had sought to achieve amongst my peers at home but never managed to achieve. Thinking about it, I think my head felt light with the realisation of the responsibility I now had. Ron broke the silence. "Oh dear, Malfoy - you'd better remember the eleventh commandment: 'Thou shalt never piss off an Elf'," grinned Ron. "Anyway," exclaimed Bob, slapping his thighs as he got up, "time to see if any of you can knock this ping-pong ball off the top of this this loo roll without sneezing," he grinned. "There's no reason to start small as Liam has demonstrated just now, but it tends to help the human mind. First of all, we'll try without wands - still say whatever incantation you want to use, but I want you to keep your wands out of sight and have no physical contact with them whatsoever. And Liam - put your fingers out." I diverted my attention from my flaming fingertips back to Bob, who was grinning at me again. I shook my hand, extinguishing the candle-sized flames. "Damn, this is going to take some getting used to." "Hehe yeah - you ought to try the sex!" ========== Sat at supper that evening, it was apparent that everyone in Gryffindor was now well aware that they had a real-live Woodland Elf in their midst. Thankfully, Hermione, Ron and the twins were doing an admirable job of fending off the majority of questions, allowing Harry and myself to have the first proper conversation we'd had since I met him. "This Elvish magic feels really weird," explained Harry, tucking into his Chicken and Ham pie. "I mean, normally I can just cast a spell and generally at least something happens, but this is just so different." "Well, you managed to get your ping-pong ball off the loo roll three times in a row - Ron and Hermione only managed one each. And I'm sure Hermione's success was down to Ron sneezing." Harry giggled. "I suppose so... I've just got so used to working with my wand, that's all..." A wave of raucous laughter rolled over the Great Hall from the Slytherin table, causing both Harry and I to look in their direction. Malfoy, looking far too healthy after his apparently brief stay with Madam Pomfrey, was pointing at us. A moment later, the table erupted in laughter again. "Bloody Malfoy," muttered Harry. "Imagine Malfoy's goblet is the loo roll," I smiled. "Imagine it in his lap." Harry smiled back widely and closed his eyes tightly. After a couple of brief moments there was a fairly loud 'clonk' and the sound of a large bench being pushed back hurriedly from the Slytherin table, along with a lot of shouting and cursing. Harry opened his eyes in shock and spun round to look. I got up from my seat and sat on the end of the bench next to him. "Well, the jug of pumpkin juice was close enough," I grinned. "Well done mate." The wave of laughter gradually went up as the other tables spotted what had happened. Unfortunately for Malfoy, he appeared to have been directly in line with the tidal wave of sweet, sticky pumpkin juice and was dripping with the stuff from chest-height down. He looked round furiously and, seeing everyone laughing at him, stormed out of the Great Hall, flanked by his two gorillas. "I'd call that a successful exercise," "I'd say you were right!" = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Well, that's all for the moment. Let us know what you think (good or bad) at meta4@meta4.org, or visit our web site at http://www.meta4.org.