Harry Potter - Hellion!

 

Harry emerged from his hibernation groggily on the fifth of May 1982, and made his way to the nearest stream to drink. He got flapped in the face by a salmon and quickly slammed it on the ground, swallowing it head first in a few bites. That caught his attention, and he dove in the shallow stream, slamming his forepaws left and right, sending salmons flying on the shores before climbing out and eating the twenty-five or so fishes he had knocked out of the water. After filling his tummy with fish, he made his way downstream. He felt a bit too warm and changed to dog form. It allowed him to move more discreetly than in a bear form, while not spending too much energy flying.

He progressed deeper in the Forest of Dean as he heard the popping noise he had learned during last fall to associate with trouble. He quietly sniffed around, and found a funny-looking tree that had a platform at the top with what looked like a strange nest. Changing to the adder snake form he had found while digging his nest last fall, he slithered up to the platform. Finding things locked, he returned to his human form, now almost two years old, and tried using his hands to open the door, which resisted. Looking at it a bit dumfounded, he pushed magic into the door, yet unable to speak English, he used Parseltongue to utter his request for the door to open, and was surprised when it did.

He walked in and noticed a nice leaf carpet, a cushioned resting area, a rather too high table for his needs, and some nuts in a bag. Cracking them was problematic until he used his bear jaws to break them open. Once the task was done, he returned to his human form and began eating the nuts slowly, sipping the water he found in a narrow bowl, and dropping half of it on himself and the floor in the process. Filled, he moved to the cushions, that were placed on the south side of the hut, right along a window, and he fell asleep as the sun heated his body.

An hour later, a tall individual, thin as a rod, supple, and silent as a cloud, made his way to his hut. His first sign of danger was the smell of a bear, but seeing none in the vicinity, he progressed to his door, On the platform, he saw conflicting signs: a snake had slithered through the plants used to hide his home; a human child, from the flat five-toes print in the mud left by the morning dew, and no bigger than an house-elf, had managed to open his door. He looked inside, and saw that his nut reserve had been severely depleted, and that nut husks were spread around on the floor, much to his despair. He would need to go fetch more if he was to have a decent lunch. His water bowl was on the floor, empty as it lay on the side. Apparently, the human child had been hungry but how did it manage to crack the hard nuts? Then, the elf saw a rather impressive bear paw print, its greasy outline difficult to mistake, given the presence of rather impressive claw marks. That bear was fresh out of hibernation and therefore very dangerous. However, the bear paw prints and the child’s footprints intermixed freely, as if they both had been present at the same time in his hut. The mystery thickened.

Unable to solve the problem from outside, the Elf opened his door, silencing the door-jam in case the bear was still inside, since he had not seen any trace of it leaving. He slid around the husks, and made his way to his sleeping quarters, as the last human prints seemed to indicate the child had walked toward that room, separate from the kitchen and living room by a wall of vines that had yet to flower for the whole summer. He gently pushed the vines apart and saw the prints head to his bed. He gently made his way to the bed, and saw a dark-haired boy, sound asleep in a tight ball, completely nude. He was about to wake up the child when he noticed something with his mage sight: that child was highly magical, so highly magical he reminded him of the tales of old, when his own people were the givers of magic to these same humans. Unsure about how to act, the Elf decided to wait for the child to wake up. It was better than a magical backlash, where, even with his forest backing him up, he might be at a disadvantage. The elf began studying the magical signature more carefully, aware that any sudden push of his own magic might trigger what he feared. The more he looked, the more astounded he was: That boy was not yet two years of age, but he had mastered shape-shifting to a point that left the Elf stunned. He had managed spells that required power way beyond his age, and apparently, could cast them in his animagus forms, an unheard of feat since the last of the Great Elves, his own ancestors, had left this plane of existence to retire onto their Elder Lands, beyond the Veil. Silent casting in animagus form was a dream for the Elves that had stayed behind to watch on the well-being of their pupils, the magical species the Elder Elves had created. And here was a human babe that could do it, probably instinctively!

The Elf waited as the sun made its way toward the zenith, as the boy gently snored. By noon, Harry’s tummy emitted grunts and he began to stretch, eyes closed as he was blinded by the sun. He finally opened his eyes and looked around, suddenly smelling a presence, not a threatening one, but a curious one. Harry studied the Elf with curious, but totally fearless eyes. Finally, Harry stood unsteadily on the cushions filled with leaves, and touched the long ears, the prominent cheekbones, and the clothes, which meant nothing to him. Why was the person carrying dead twigs tied together with leaves as a second layer? Harry also touched the light brown hair that harbored leafs and twigs. Funny feeling, that made him laugh with a crystal-clear voice. Then he touched the forehead, and relaxed his mind. Unknowingly, the Elf was siphoned dry of his knowledge in less than a minute.

"What is your name?" asked the Elf in that barbarian language he knew humans of the area spoke, something called English...

The child turned his head left and right, as if he was trying to understand what was said. Then shocking the Elf out of his wits, the human child spoke High Elf! He wanted to know what he was! That could not be! High Elf was spoken by the Priests, those that harbored the deepest secrets of the Elves, the Elves of Old, the language of the Elder Elves! The Elf tried to muster what he knew of High Elvin, but he somehow knew this knowledge was far from adequate. After some false starts, he decided to try secular Elvin, the language of everyday, hoping the child would not feel insulted by its barbarian down-to-earth quality. Some long-winded explanations later and a few pointed questions asked in secular Elvin by the child, the questioning session came to an abrupt end as the child’s stomach made its presence known.

"I must gather more nuts, young one, as you ate my lunch. Do not feel bad about it. I just did not expect a guest."

"I can hunt. Good fish in river."

"But that river is rapid and cold this time of the year!"

"It is? Did not feel cold to me. Want some fish?"

"No, I am a Forest Elf, and we are vegetarian by nature. But can I watch you fish?"

"Sure. Come."

The two left the hut and the Elf was shocked to see the human boy jump off his deck to change shape in mid-fall into a falcon. Such fluidity of shape-shifting could only mean it had happened often. The Elf followed the bird by running on tree branches, hopping from tree to tree on the aerial highway, competing with squirrels for agility. As the two neared the river, the Elf saw the bird land on the shore, and change into a black bear of one year in size, walk into the river and begin to fish with quick swings of his sharply clawed forepaws. In short order, another twenty-four salmons had been taken out and consumed. Then the Elf saw the bear climb a tree, crack the trunk and pull out twice the amount of nuts the boy had consumed at the hut. The bear then climbed down and collected the nuts, looking invitingly at the Elf. The Elf filled his bag with the amassed nuts and then followed the bear back to his home. Then, expecting the bear to climb he was shocked again as it fluidly made the change to an adder snake and climbed up, to finally revert to the human child. What a level of control!

"I wonder how many shapes you have?"

"Many? What does that mean? Less than there are leafs in a tree... so far."

A lesson in philosophy now? Where would this child stop shocking him? As he watched the child, he saw him change again, to a mirror image of himself at that age, then take the shape of a High Elf baby!

"Many?" said the innocent-looking High Elf baby, as he curled up to sleep in the afternoon sun. Far, yet close, the data sheet for one Harry James Potter received an additional inscription: High Forest Elf, then, ringing a bell at the top of the highest tower that had no ropes and had not rung since time immemorial, began the deep ringing of the biggest bell magic had ever made, its deep sound resonating on the wards of Hogwarts, while, in the Book of Souls, a glowing inscription appeared: High Elf.

---

Minerva, whom had been busy teaching transfiguration to the seventh year, felt in her boots the castle vibrate at each toll of the bell, and she ran to her office, ignoring all dignity, to figure out what was happening to the wards of the castle. She found the heart of stone, that anchored the wards, pulsating in a deep red glow, squarely laying for all to see on a pedestal; and, behind her desk, in the wall were the Book of Souls was stored, a blindingly gold glow shone through the bricks.

She quickly activated the brick sequence as she heard the head of houses and the muggle commander make their way to her office at a run. The first to reach her door was Flitwick.

"Minerva!" asked the diminutive teacher in a squeaky voice, "What is happening? Are we under attack?"

"Not that I know of? Commander?"

"My men are reporting all green, but that there is a sort of bluish glow that resonates in time with that huge bourdon bell we hear from that tower, in the middle of the castle, the redoubt I think it is called. Someone timed the bell: one hit per second, and it is amplifying the effect as time goes by."

"Amplifying?"

"Yes, the timing is in resonance with the tower’s structure and the bedrock. Magic had better be well-tuned or this entire castle will collapse. I suggest evacuation."

"I order so, commander. Help the students out!"

"Minerva? Why is the Heart of Hogwarts pulsating?" asked Flitwick, pointing at the glowing rock covered in obscure and tiny writing.

"I have yet to figure that out. But I dare not move it, as if I do so, the entire castle might collapse. It is this, the Heart of Hogwarts, that holds the entire castle together and keeps the wards functional."

"And what about the gold glow?" Professor Sprout asked.

"That is the Book of Souls. I was getting ready to take it out and put it on the Corner Stone Block that holds the Castle together. Mind moving to the edge, Commander?"

After the commander had moved to stand with the house heads, Minerva placed the tiny book on the block and expanded it. As soon as she did so, the castle stabilized, it having lost its resonance with the bell. It also flipped open to the gold leaf that now contained an update on Harry James Potter. Minerva knelt and began to read, her face becoming ashen as she progressed. Once done, she extended her right arm to the commander to get some help in standing.

"Help me to my chair, please. My legs are like water."

After being sat in her chair, she looked at each head of house in turn.

"This is about Harry James Potter..."

"Is he...?"

"No, Slughorn, he is not dead, however much Slytherin house might wish him so. He is recognized by Magic itself as an Elf."

"A house elf?" snickered the head of Slytherin.

"No. As a High Elf, those that gave this world its Magic. A Forest High Elf, to be exact."

"What does that mean?" asked the mundane commander.

"Apart from the fact that he has total control of whom has magic and whom does not, I have not the faintest idea. High Elves have been gone since the emergence of Men, some twenty thousand to fifty thousand years ago or so. They left Elves as caretakers, but have not been in this plane since then. We have no records of their existence except in oral history. Elves, on the other hand, although rarely seen, are known entities of immense power. A Forest Elf is an elf dedicated to caring for a forest’s well-being. A High Forest Elf will care for all wooded areas, see to their expansion and restoration, according to oral history."

"Would the Elves not have a sort of history?"

"They probably do, but rarely exchange information with us... They evade contact to the best of their ability. Commander, have the structural integrity of the castle verified, and the students back in the great hall as soon as that verification is complete. We must prevent panic from installing itself."

"What about the glow in the wards?" asked Burbage.

"The glow of the Heart of Hogwarts tells me the wards have never been stronger, so I am not too worried. Return to the Grand Hall, and calm your house students. I need to contact Lupin by fire-call. I hope he is near a fireplace in that castle."

---

In another place, much much further than Hogwarts could ever dream of being from the Forest of Dean, a similar sequence of events was occurring: The High Elves Council had been called to an emergency meeting, as giant carillon bells resonated through the King’s castle, almost waking the dead. The bourdon could be heard from one end of the kingdom to the other. An emergency meeting of the King’s Privy Council had been called immediately.

King Mrlin was not an Elf much into history. For him, the past was dead and had no impact on the present or the future. This had been of little consequence up until that day. As he walked in his council chamber, he noticed the presence of an unexpected visitor.

"What are you doing here, you walking bag of dust?"

"I was called to my function by the tolls of foretold times, Mrlin."

"I do not want to hear your grandma stories, dinosaur!"

"I do not care if you wish to hear them or not, Mrlin, you will!"

"Guards! Throw that flea bag over the castle’s outer ring wall, preferably where the moat is empty so there is no water to cushion his fall!"

The guardian of history gently waved his hand around, creating a protective net that kept him safe and the guards at bay.

"You have no right to use magic in the Council Hall!"

"And you, Mrlin, should know what the bells call for, as it is part of your oath of office, or was it that you were too imbued with your own importance to take note of what you swore to uphold on your magic? Or should I call the oath foresworn? You do, at least, know the cost of such a forfeiture?"

The king became a bit more nervous.

"Remind Us," said the king, trying to intimidate the ancient Elf, whose age had been lost to time since he had been at the High Court for so long the bones of his father had long turned to dust. The Ancient, as he was named, although he probably had carried another name in an epoch long forgotten, made his way to the lectern, and snapped his bony fingers, making a dusty old tome appear.

"This is the Book of Time, past, present, and future. It has been written and is written by the Collegium of Time Lords, of which I am the Elder. I have been around since before we moved into this realm. I saw the time of the great reptiles, Mrlin, a time when your line was not even a gleam in the eyes of the Elvin forebears."

"Get down to business, walking fossil!"

"I am getting to it, I thought you might benefit from the historical context. Mrlin. I see you have not changed since you were in diapers: Still unable to respect your elders. Too bad your mother never wanted you to learn anything, from either end of that body of yours! Anyway, it is too late to change you, as you are more fossilized in your bad habits than even this fossil can be. Back to the Book of Time."

The old Elf slowly opened the book a third of the way through.

"Ah, here it is. Elrond ordered the High Elves to assemble to the portal for their migration. The humans were growing in numbers, and a potential conflict seemed inevitable. As the Elves had decided they did not want to war with their children, they decided to retire to a higher plane of existence. But they did not wish to abandon their children, some of which were now showing the beginning of higher powers. Thus, they left behind caretakers, in the form of Elves tasked with protecting Nature and nurturing the humans to their full potential. Every ten thousand years, one of Elrond’s High Elf would travel the portal to examine the humans’ progress and monitor the work of the caretaker Elves, their well-being, and so forth, and also give a push in the right direction, should such a push be needed."

"What does it have to do with that unnerving bell that is giving me a headache?"

"Do not complain, Mrlin, the headache is the only proof you have a head, as it rings as empty as a wooden shell when it get hit by an idea. Now, further down in history..." as the old Elf turned the pages of the Book of Time.

"Arlin sent his Royal Mage through the portal to monitor the progress of the humans as established by the great Elrond. The mage returned several years later, and his report included the establishment of a School for those of power, the creation of a Book of Souls that would allow the school to collect those showing magic, and, finally, the Bell of the Call, which would resonate in our world once one magical user had reached High Elf power. Merlin had bounded with a human and asked to return to raise his children, but Arlin refused, worried that interbreeding would speed up the emergence of said High Elf before its time. That entry dates somewhere around 1000 AD, current human calendar, or 51502 Elvin Migration Calendar. By the way, you own your name to Merlin, Mrlin, as the mage adopted a daughter of our kind in order to overcome his sorrow of losing his children to Arlin’s intransigence. Yes, your mother is that adopted daughter of Merlin, whom married your father, and gave you that name in remembrance of his love for her."

"And what does my family history have to do with that nightmare of a bell?"

"Are you daft? I just told you! It is the Call! A High Elf was born to the earthly plane, to a magical family, to humans! We must respond to that call!"

"If you think We will send a single Elf through the portal, forget it. Let them deal with Merlin’s bastard line! I have no interest in the doings of Humans."

"Are you sure of your decision, King Mrlin? Be careful here!"

"Yes, I am! No whore’s bastard will be rescued or educated by Us!"

"Then you leave me no choice. I call upon the magic of time, to levy the foresworn’s fine, by my body, by my magic, by my soul pure of grime, magic wash the race of elves of the broken vow’s taint, and remove your blessing from the foresworn!"

The king looked at the elder elf, smiling. Nothing had happened. But then, he felt his body change, as it began to age at lightning speed. The others watched in horror as their king’s clothing fell to dust, followed quickly by the whitening of his hair, the wrinkling of his body, and the thinning of his muscles, until he collapsed on the floor, where the accelerated degeneration sped up. Shortly, a skeleton devoid of skin and soft tissue, a pile of bones, was left on the marble floor. A blast of wind from nowhere finished the work as the bones themselves dissolved into dust, to be blown to all corners of the Council Chamber.

"So perish the foresworn." said the Elder in the silent chamber. "His name is forever removed from the Peerage list of the High Elves, he never was born, never existed, never died. His reign is the reign of the Foresworn, nothing else."

"What are we to do?" asked a councillor.

"Elect a new king, as his line does not exist anymore. He not only removed himself but all his children from the line of succession. It is not the first time a line is without issue, but it is the first time it is due to a betrayal of a vow to magic."

"Those that are issued of his loins..."

"...Have lost their magic. Those that are considered old by non-magical will die, the others will age as do non-magical. He has grand-children, and they will probably be dead before they reach the proper age to marry in our society. This will be the last step in removing this taint. Sad for them, but magic is unforgiving. Candidates to take that seat, after it has been cleansed of any dust, are to come to the Hall of Time and sign their candidacy. Take the time to read the requirements of the station. As you saw, it has its price."

"What do we do about the Call?"

"Prepare to send a High Elf to verify the situation on the other side of the veil. It has been barely one thousand years since Merlin visited, so it can not have changed that much. I will retire to the Hall of Time and consult with the other Lords. Again, I remind you: do not rush into the power vacuum. It has a hefty price attached to it."

---

Deep in the defunct Ministry for Magic, within what used to be the Department of Mysteries, the drape that shrouded the veil shook violently, getting torn to shreds by the powerful magic of its activation from the High Elvin plane. No one was there to witness the event, as fear had long enveloped the Veil of Death as it was now called. Its true role as a portal between planes had long been lost as the knowledge was suppressed by successive ministers that feared its power. On the Elvin side of the veil, a guard had always existed, an hereditary station passed from father to son, and it had become common practice to immobilize those that came through alive, to scan their mind, and to atomize their body once it was proven they had ill intents toward others. Thus was born the fable that the Veil was a one-way portal to Hell or, for the unbeliever, to simply death.

---

In the Forest of Dean, the Forest Elf sat as the evening came. On his lap was a cat, fast asleep. He had seen it change so many times since morning he was not sure what it really was anymore. Were the High Elves such masters of shape-shifting? Was it something far more powerful than his cousins? He needed counsel, but he did not know whom to talk to. The forest cover had been severely breached over the past five hundred years, making travel by branches and roots perilous at best. What to do? And there were these magical users to keep an eye on. They had settled themselves on the edge, and were looking at every tree stump for something under the roots. Probably where the little one had spent the winter. And then there was that land, warded against humans, that hid itself in magical wards, and that reeked of evil. He dared not fight with those within, as it was not in his nature to fight.

As he looked at the darkening skies, he saw some fairies busy pollinating the night flowers, relieving those that had taken the day flowers of early spring under their tiny wings. Their greenish glow in the dark allowed him to watch their graceful dance. The cat mowed in its sleep, stretched and jumped to the floor of the hut, making its way to the water bowl. After quenching its thirst, the feline made its way out and sat on the window sill. A fairy made its way toward the cat warily, and settled on its nose The little cat looked at the fairy and extended a rough tongue to give it a bath. The fairy, taken by surprise at the quick lick, flew off. Fascinated, the Elf saw his little cat turn into a fairy and fly off to dive in the corolla of a night flower and drink nectar, before taking off through the darkening wood. Puff, on two magical scrolls, Night Fae appeared amongst the growing list of shapes associated with Harry James Potter.