Disclaimer: I do not own the works of The Lord of the Rings, which belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, or the works of Harry Potter, which belong to J.K. Rowling. Any familiar dialogue or scenes belong to their respective owners.
A/N: Hey guys, here I am again with another chapter! I hope you all enjoy, and please leave me a review to let me know what you think XD
Draco wandered through Rivendell’s stunning gardens, kicking a stray stone along the winding path as he went. Soft sunlight streamed through the delicate canopy of ancient trees, casting dappled patterns across the lush grass. The crisp air carried a faint floral scent, and vibrant blooms stood out against the muted stone archways and intricately sculpted statues nestled among the foliage. Birds flitted between branches, their songs mingling with the gentle breeze. Although the surroundings exuded peace, Draco’s mind churned with restlessness, and the calm scenery only intensified his inner turmoil. The serenity of Rivendell seemed almost unreal after the tense atmosphere of the Council; Elrond’s closing words continued to echo in his thoughts. His longing for solitude intensified, and he hoped the gardens’ tranquil beauty might provide a brief escape from his restless mind.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBYmme8BhZX
Draco had noticed Hermione and Harry making an effort to reconnect, as their conversation made clear they needed private time to catch up. Draco hesitated to intrude on their reunion, especially since he didn’t want to spend time with Gryffindors simply because circumstances had changed or they found themselves together in a different place. Draco’s Slytherin pride stood firm, creating an invisible barrier between him and others. He didn’t just cling to rivalry; he actively used it as a shield, protecting himself from vulnerability and rejection. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmWCce8nEJ3
Draco approached the edge of a waterfall, searching for a moment of peace amid his busy thoughts. Silvery water cascaded over mossy rocks, sparkling as it caught the light before it flowed into a clear pond below. He perched himself on a smooth, cool boulder, its surface polished by centuries of gentle water. A fine mist filled the air, refreshing his skin, while the gentle sound of the water echoed softly through the quiet glade, muffling all other noise. Moss and ferns carpeted the ground in vibrant green, their colours brightened by the moisture. Small wildflowers, pale blue and white, clustered at the rocks’ bases, their dew-laden heads drooping. The scene appeared surreal, as if he had stepped into a dream where time stood still. Draco watched sunlight and shadow dance across the shimmering pond’s surface, cast by the overhanging branches. The calming sound of the waterfall enveloped him in peaceful tranquillity, so perfect that he wondered for a moment whether he was awake or dwelling in some heavenly place. The stillness intensified the contrast with his inner chaos, leading him to question whether he was truly alive or lost in another world.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ825kxfTzN
Still, Draco doubted that he could ever find redemption. He saw it as distant and unattainable, like a star always just beyond reach. He questioned whether anyone with a dark past and deep guilt like his could ever earn a place in a realm as pure as heaven. His memories—whispered threats, fearful compliance, and the lingering shadows of his family’s legacy—seemed to stain him indelibly. Each regret pressed down on him, pulling him further away from hope. More and more, he convinced himself that he belonged in hell, a shadowed place meant for those whose sins were too heavy to pardon. That thought, chilling and familiar, gripped his heart with icy certainty, making him feel as though his past misdeeds had already determined his fate.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXuMu0MoIZs
Draco shook his head and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the possibility that he might wake up and find himself once more under Voldemort’s suffocating control. The serene beauty of Rivendell seemed almost unattainable when he compared it to the grim oppression he had so recently endured; the contrast struck him with nearly physical pain. In Voldemort’s dark fortress, shouts and screams echoed off the cold stone hallways, feeding an atmosphere of fear and relentless threats of violence. Draco had survived as a prisoner forced to masquerade as a servant, complying with every cruel command without hesitation. He fought for survival each day, knowing that even the slightest mistake could lead to punishment—or something far worse. His supposed freedom amounted to nothing more than an illusion, and he continually risked his safety, which depended entirely on his obedience and vigilance.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOzZBITKUfT
Draco fiercely maintained a quiet, stubborn defiance, refusing to surrender the one thing his supposed Master could never take: his blood innocence. He resisted every pressure, threat, and temptation, steadfastly refusing to cross into darkness. That untouched aspect of himself became his fragile yet essential lifeline—a spark of hope and self-worth that Voldemort’s tyranny failed to destroy. Now, surrounded by Rivendell’s gentle light and peaceful song, Draco recognised that small victory burning within him, silently reminding him that he had kept a piece of his soul unbroken and untainted by murder, even in the deepest darkness.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1S4cmFvS39
Sitting by the waterfall, Draco let his mind wander to his mother. Grief struck him sharply in the chest, and tears welled up, threatening to spill as he struggled with how much he missed her. He could only picture her lifeless gaze—a look that once brimmed with tenderness and silent strength, now cold and unresponsive, serving as a harsh reminder of what he had lost. The memory gripped him relentlessly, playing on a loop he couldn’t silence or escape. He vividly remembered her gentle hands brushing his hair from his forehead, her soft voice soothing him with stories on stormy nights, and the way her eyes glowed with protectiveness whenever darkness threatened. Now that protective gaze had vanished, replaced by emptiness, leaving Draco stranded in grief and longing for a comfort he could never reclaim. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcKWgjAdf4n
He tried to picture her final moments, but dark and frightening possibilities overwhelmed him. Did fear grip her, her heart racing as shadows drew near? Or did she face her death with the same quiet bravery she always showed, refusing to let fear steal her remaining dignity? He wondered if she thought of him at that moment, and whether she found comfort in knowing she had sacrificed everything for his chance at life. These questions haunted him relentlessly. The cold air penetrated his bones, mirroring his internal emptiness, as if the mist from the waterfall created a veil that separated him from the world he once knew—a world where his mother’s love acted as his steadying force. Guilt clung to Draco, refusing to let go no matter how hard he tried to dismiss these painful thoughts.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTcw7Fout8p
As the mist from the waterfall touched his cheeks, Draco made a promise that he would not let her sacrifice be in vain; he would carry her memory as his guiding light through his darkest moments. Even as sorrow threatened to overwhelm him, he let a fierce resolve take root—a silent vow to honour her legacy. Every breath he drew served as a tribute to her love, and he dedicated himself to becoming worthy of the protection and devotion she had shown him. He pledged not merely to survive, but to grow into someone she could be proud of—a son shaped by her kindness and strength, making sure her love was never forgotten or wasted. Alone in the tranquil glade, while grief and guilt swirled around him like autumn leaves, Draco clung to the hope that, by living with integrity and compassion, he might eventually find peace and, perhaps, redemption.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWrmz9HKg6R
Draco sighed wearily and left his seat by the waterfall, determined to explore Rivendell by himself. He deliberately pushed the pain of losing his mother to the back of his mind, striving to prevent grief from overwhelming him. As he strode into the glowing gardens, a wave of floral scent enveloped him and briefly distracted him from his sorrow. The air brimmed with the fragrant aroma of countless blooms, both familiar and unfamiliar, weaving together a vibrant tapestry of scents. Star-shaped blossoms with vivid indigo petals edged in silver adorned some bushes, while others displayed clusters of trumpet-shaped flowers in gold, peach, and deep crimson. Pale lavender tufts drifted on the breeze, carrying their calming sweetness, and tiny white bells hung like jewels from arching stems, softly chiming whenever the wind stirred them.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIaXHn6hR7j
Draco paused and briefly admired the enchanting plants. The garden brimmed with life, its colours so vivid they almost defied belief. Dew glistened on leaves, while butterflies—some sporting iridescent blue and green wings—flitted from flower to flower. Birds sang from hidden perches, their melodies merging with the distant rush of water. Even amid his inner turmoil, Draco found a spark of wonder in his surroundings; the unusual blossoms, with their elegant curves and surreal hues, revealed a world far removed from the harshness he once knew.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡepScH1ytiq
Draco eventually reached a quiet corner of the gardens, where a stunning marble fountain dominated the centre. Elven artisans had crafted the fountain as a work of art: they had adorned its rim with detailed depictions of mythical creatures—swans, deer, and horses—which caught the sunlight and cast intricate shadows onto the smooth stone. Water streamed from the mouth of a graceful Elven maiden sculpture at the centre, each droplet sparkling as it fell and creating a gentle, soothing sound. Harry and Hermione perched on the fountain’s curved edge, talking in hushed tones. Clusters of violet star-flowers and golden trumpets spilt colour over the low stonework, filling the air with their fragrance as the cool, fresh mist rose from the fountain.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfMRYMCh4Hw
Draco paused in the shade of a nearby willow and fixed his gaze on the pair. A wave of loneliness overwhelmed him, with the beauty and peace around him only intensifying the feeling. In this timeless place, surrounded by people who belonged, he felt as though he stood outside, looking through glass at a scene he couldn’t truly enter. The loneliness pressed down on him, and for a moment, he yearned for someone to share his feelings, someone to help him bear the burdens that grew heavier each day. Seeing Harry and Hermione together, engaged in quiet conversation and displaying a close friendship, stirred a persistent flicker of envy in Draco. He sharply contrasted their bond with his own feelings of displacement. Their connection comforted them in a world full of strangers, and Draco yearned for even a hint of such closeness. The ache of longing caught him off guard, mingling with his uncertainty and regret.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡayVIbu5p68
Draco approached them hesitantly, and they looked up as he passed. Their eyes met his, and for a moment, time seemed to pause. They did not show the usual resentment—no sharp words or sneers appeared—only a soft neutrality that silently acknowledged the change between them. The history remained, but in this sacred space, they allowed it to mellow, letting a delicate, unspoken understanding take its place. For now, past conflicts rested in peace.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5sQ9hi4FEe
Draco watched them for a moment, and his jealousy quickly gave way to deep remorse. He saw Hermione wipe her reddened eyes, her sorrow etched across her face, and noticed the silent tremor in Harry’s jaw as he fought to maintain his composure. Draco felt a sharp empathy for both of them, recognising the hollow ache that loss leaves behind. The memory of that tragic night in the Room of Requirement surged into his mind—he heard Crabbe’s terrified screams, saw the raging Fiendfyre devour everything, and remembered standing helpless as his friend vanished into the flames. That final, agonising moment haunted him, serving as a constant reminder that losing a friend, regardless of past mistakes, carves a wound that never truly heals.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDT4v5FZbzA
As he reflected on Ron’s sacrifice, regret clung to him—he longed to have tried harder or found some way to change the outcome. He continually replayed the moment, searching for a decision or turning point that could have changed everything. Ron gave them the crucial chance to escape, choosing their safety over his own. Draco vividly remembered the fierce resolve in Ron’s eyes—a selfless courage that endured even in the darkest moments. With that final, quietly heroic act, Ron secured their freedom, but they paid a heavy price. Although Gandalf assured them that Ron’s destiny was already sealed, Draco couldn’t shake the sense of injustice—a deep conviction that fate had mistreated them. Draco wished they could have shared a final moment before everything ended—a chance to say goodbye or show gratitude. He closed his eyes, letting the garden’s soft sounds calm him as he longed to rewrite the past, if only to give Ron the farewell he deserved.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQHD7jdguXw
Circumstances and loyalties muddied the once sharp boundaries between right and wrong. He replayed the critical moment with Ron over and over, doubting his judgement with each iteration. Every choice now seemed to reflect his perspective—what he once considered rational now struck him as selfish, and what had felt necessary now appeared unforgivable. Draco’s conscience relentlessly pierced his defences with “what if” questions, each one silently accusing him. He imagined how he might have changed things had he dared to act differently—if he had spoken up, intervened, or reached out. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHkJldlZH7a
He found little comfort in these thoughts. He tried to justify his actions, but these efforts felt hollow—mere attempts to soothe his remorse, which stubbornly lingered. Draco recognised, with a heavy heart, that no matter how he rationalised things, he could not escape the consequences of his choices. His internal struggle intensified whenever he was in the same vicinity as Harry and Hermione. Their calm presence reminded him of his shortcomings—their empathetic expressions and unspoken sorrow made Draco feel his guilt even more keenly.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcw8rCalsOt
Draco could no longer endure the tension, so he quietly turned away, his boots softly crunching on the pebbled path. He left the clearing, hunching his shoulders and deliberately avoiding any glance behind him. He silently promised himself to return later, once the others had gone. Only then did he hope to find a brief moment of peace, away from Harry, Hermione, and the overwhelming emotions they stirred within him.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaitZR14nz3
Draco crossed back to the bridge where he had started his walk, moving over the familiar arch that spans the gentle stream separating this part of the gardens from the House of Elrond. When he reached the edge, he paused and exhaled heavily. Draco nudged a loose stone with his shoe and watched it roll aimlessly onto the path ahead, its movement reflecting his own sense of aimlessness. He walked across the bridge, hunched, each step echoing softly on the ancient stone as he kept his head bowed, his blonde hair falling over his eyes. He tucked his hands into his pockets and clenched his fingers tightly, as if trying to hold back the wave of regret and grief inside him.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRK4dS3iHH3
Harry and Hermione sat quietly at the fountain, watching Draco walk away. They followed his shrinking figure as he crossed the arched bridge, his shoulders hunched and his steps slow. A heavy silence hung between Harry and Hermione, thick with unspoken thoughts about what had just happened—a quiet understanding passed between them as they each wrestled with memories, regrets, and their grief. Hermione absentmindedly traced her fingertips along the stone edge of the fountain, keeping her eyes fixed on the spot where Draco disappeared into the gardens. Harry watched the sunlight reflecting off the ripples, his gaze filled with sorrow and thought as they sat side by side.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgokfXUU8OW
‘Do you think he’s lonely? He looked like he’d been crying,’ Hermione whispered, hesitant to disturb the delicate quiet. Unsure, she nervously ran her fingers through her hair, revealing her worry as she watched Draco grow smaller and more isolated with each step.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW6LtN04bam
Harry pondered Hermione’s question for a moment. ‘He might be,’ he replied softly, his tone calm and reflective. As he spoke, he casually picked up a flat, smooth stone from the fountain’s edge and felt its cool, damp surface against his fingers. He turned the stone over in his hand, appearing lost in thought, his gaze distant and contemplative. With a gentle flick of his wrist, Harry threw the stone into the water and created a small splash that broke the silence. He watched concentric ripples spread across the sparkling surface, distorting the sunlight and the reflections of the overhanging leaves.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsUYR1mHUtH
‘Is it wrong that I feel sorry for him? I mean, he was so cruel to us during Hogwarts.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUJj01ODar7
‘We were just as harsh to him. Hell, you even punched him.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd2zEnjxsV5
Recalling the incident, Hermione gave a small, wistful smile, the memory making her cheeks flush faintly. ‘Yes, well, he deserved it at the time,’ she said, her voice humorous, though sadness briefly flickered in her eyes. Amusement sparked on her face, but pain still lingered beneath her words. She gently nudged Harry with her arm—an affectionate, familiar gesture that bridged laughter and sorrow. ‘If you or Ron had been laughing at that poor creature about to die, I would have punched you both, too.’ Her tone remained light but steady, revealing her unwavering sense of justice. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjgwn7swnEF
That memory lingered between them for a moment, tinged with regret and pride. The mention of Ron’s name weighed heavily on the pair. Grief settled between Harry and Hermione like a thick fog, making them lower their eyes. Hermione’s hands quivered in her lap, and she twisted her fingers in silent sadness.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUzOEjgzlCU
After a brief pause, Hermione spoke again, her voice soft and filled with longing, ‘He would have loved this place.’ She let her eyes roam over the peaceful garden—the shimmering water, vibrant greenery, and fragile blooms—as she imagined Ron’s laughter echoing among the trees. Hermione pictured Ron wandering the winding paths and marvelling at the magical surroundings, and her heart swelled with both happiness and sadness.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUWFpFLzc9t
‘Yeah,’ Harry replied softly, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. He let his thick, emotion-laden voice reveal his exhaustion and grief. The pain of loss remained fresh, and for a moment, Harry struggled to compose himself, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWVjX4JUww0
Hermione’s breath hitched. ‘I miss him so much,’ she whispered, grief fracturing her words. Tears gathered in her eyes, silently revealing how much Ron’s absence hurt her. She nervously fidgeted with her hands in her lap—twisting her fingers, her knuckles turning pale—as she tried to steady herself against the emotional storm raging within. Each movement revealed her turmoil; she hunched her shoulders, as though she could ward off the invisible chill pressing on her heart. Memories of their friend flickered behind her eyes—she remembered laughter, Ron’s familiar voice, and his warmth, now gone—leaving her with echoes and a hollow emptiness gnawing at her spirit.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbeuEYoFm8r
Harry answered with a voice thick with emotion, ‘I do, too,’ his words strained and hoarse as he fought back tears. The pain from Ron’s absence was clearly marked on his face. For a moment, Harry closed his eyes, drew a deep breath to compose himself, and regained control. He tightened his jaw and clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles whitening as overwhelming memories threatened to overtake him. The familiar ache of loss pressed heavily on his chest, making each breath a struggle, and he slumped his shoulders. For a brief moment, he seemed utterly lost, with his defences stripped away by raw emotion, before he steadied himself again, determined to remain strong for Hermione.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡywWkWAuTjE
Harry comforted Hermione with a gentle hug, keeping his grief under control. He wrapped his arms around her in a tender yet firm grip. Their embrace spoke of years of friendship and unspoken understanding. Hermione’s shoulders trembled at first, but gradually relaxed, and she softened her posture as she leaned into Harry’s support. He softly said, ‘Come on, Ron wouldn’t want us to be upset. He’d want us to remember the good times,’ with a voice that remained gentle yet firm. He lightly rested his chin on Hermione’s head and closed his eyes, recalling memories that eased his pain.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmtn5uoSbv0
Harry held Hermione close, gently tracing slow circles on her back with his thumb while she clung to him. He felt her shuddering sigh and noticed the dampness of her tears soaking his shirt, but he refused to let go. They cherished their memories of Ron even more, weaving a rich tapestry of mischievous smiles, lively jokes, and unwavering loyalty into their hearts. Ron’s contagious laughter, his knack for easing tense moments, and his steady presence flickered behind their closed eyes, blending sorrow with gratitude.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj3rUf6Nsgx
Hermione whispered, ‘You’re right,’ her voice barely audible as emotion choked her throat. She steadied herself by shaking her head, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths while she fought to regain composure. She carefully wiped away tears, dabbing at her cheeks with her sleeve. Although her heart ached, Hermione straightened her shoulders with quiet resolve and refused to let grief consume her. After a brief pause, she faced Harry, her eyes still shining, yet her voice steadier and filled with determination. Softly, she asked, ‘Can we go to the library?’ Her words carried a longing for the comfort and certainty that only books could provide. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUXFBPr4b2q
Harry recognised the need in her eyes: she craved distraction, reassurance, and the gentle healing that knowledge could bring. He nodded supportively, offering a faint, encouraging smile and silently promised to accompany her into the refuge that had so often eased her worries before.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ17SrxTUJR2
Harry closely examined a map he had borrowed from Bilbo. He found the parchment extremely old, with its surface mottled by age and its edges frayed and curling from centuries of careful handling. Faded brown ink traced winding rivers, rugged mountain ranges, and expansive forests, while delicate Elvish script shimmered faintly in the changing light. Numerous journeys and cautious hands had left every crease and worn fold, stretching back to the legendary First Age. Faint stains—perhaps from spilt ink or exposure to the weather—marked the map, which carried a subtle, earthy scent of old parchment and history. This inspired Harry with awe and reverence for its origins. Even in its delicate condition, the cartography remained remarkably clear; Harry could easily see landmarks such as the silhouette of Minas Tirith, the outline of the Lonely Mountain, and the ancient forests of Lothlórien.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjrprGO5teN
Gandalf told Harry that Middle-earth’s geography had essentially stayed the same for two thousand years, ever since the map was drawn, making it even more mysterious and dependable. Each detail drew Harry closer to the distant past, allowing him to picture the legendary feats, epic journeys, and forgotten tales the parchment had once accompanied. More than a fascinating relic, the map became a steadfast guide for Harry, linking him to a history that felt both far-off and immediate as he navigated the present landscape.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOwjSvC4pvu
Hermione glided through the vast library, her footsteps sinking into the thick carpets that stretched across the large room. Tall shelves soared towards the vaulted ceilings, their polished wood catching and reflecting the soft sunlight that filtered through stained-glass windows, casting intricate patterns over ancient books. The air brimmed with the scents of old parchment, leather, and a subtle hint of lavender—fragrances lingering from days long past. Hermione gently ran her fingers along the spines of the books, reading titles embossed in flowing Elvish script or faded runes, with gold and silver inlays gleaming like hidden treasures where the light struck them. Neatly arranged scrolls and manuscripts filled the reading tables, their seals unbroken, while only the distant sound of a ladder gliding along its rails disturbed the quiet.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTCXJY506Uf
Hermione delved into her quest for knowledge, feeling a familiar thrill as she sensed she stood on the brink of uncovering new insights into Middle-earth’s history, lore, and magic. She marvelled at the collection’s variety: illuminated bestiaries displaying mythical creatures, comprehensive treatises explaining ancient spells, and maps so intricate that they revealed the wilderness’s secrets beyond the walls. With every new book she discovered, her unquenchable curiosity intensified.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡveTIdtE9db
Hermione reached for a thick book on a high shelf and quickly noticed that most of the books featured Elvish, a language so complex and ornate that each letter resembled delicate artwork. She studied the graceful script, feeling both pleased and annoyed as she realised the knowledge she sought lay hidden within these elaborate writings. Although Harry knew about her secret familiarity with Elves—they had discussed it at length and even expressed some resentment about her keeping this information from him for years—Hermione insisted on keeping her connection to that part of her life private, refusing to share it with anyone for now.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdLBTUuSVlS
Hermione resolved to slip back into the library under the cover of night, claiming the shadowed sanctuary as her own. Shielded from prying eyes, she could pore over the Elvish texts by lantern light. The prospect of those secret hours—filled with the gentle turning of pages, the hush of parchment, and the thrill of forbidden discovery—set her heart racing and transformed the library into her private refuge for guarding secrets and unlocking knowledge.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMOKMbDuZWH
As Hermione searched through the vast bookshelves, a familiar sarcastic voice interrupted her from the doorway, ‘Trust you to find the library in this place, Granger.’ Draco was leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed as he looked at them.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCAiLeF8PHo
Harry and Hermione looked up, momentarily startled by his appearance—Hermione kept her hand on a thick, gold-embossed book. Caught mid-thought, Harry tensed instinctively, his eyes darting from Draco’s smirk to Hermione’s uncertain expression.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFiMVgUUpbb
Harry nodded casually at Draco, maintaining a calm and composed tone. ‘Malfoy,’ he said, acknowledging Draco without a trace of hostility. He kept his voice steady and his posture relaxed yet attentive, openly recognising his longtime rival. A faint flicker of curiosity momentarily crossed his features, but he sustained a neutral expression, concealing any surprise at Draco’s unexpected civility.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeI7i3xW3Ws
Draco raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise and quickly glanced at Harry and Hermione, his pale blue eyes focusing on the faint trace of old emotion on Hermione’s face and the cautious curiosity in Harry’s expression. For a brief moment, the familiar urge to deliver sharp remarks and biting sarcasm—the well-known jibes from their years at Hogwarts—tempted him. Quick words almost formed on his lips, the easy veneer of disdain inviting him to slip back into old habits. He took a slow breath, shifting as sunlight caught the deep green of his robes, and fought the urge to speak. Choosing not to slip into old habits, he gave a quiet, deliberate nod—a subtle gesture that surprisingly conveyed civility. He neither challenged nor surrendered; instead, he acknowledged their mutual presence in this unfamiliar place. He deliberately remained near the threshold, keeping a respectful distance. He pressed his shoulders tight and crossed his arms, shielding himself and revealing his unease. His eyes no longer burned with fiery rivalry; instead, they showed cautious neutrality. He did not attempt to interrupt their conversation or to mock them.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxqesL0IY8k
Harry and Hermione exchanged confused glances, their surprise evident on their faces. Hermione gripped her book’s spine, her fingers unmoving as she tried to make sense of Draco’s unusual restraint, while Harry furrowed his brow in cautious curiosity. After hesitating briefly, Harry and Hermione quietly returned to their activities, choosing not to question Draco’s behaviour aloud. They accepted the temporary peace, albeit tentatively and with uncertainty, each secretly pondering whether this marked a genuine change or was simply a fleeting pause in their uneasy alliance.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpkDCK5tuZ7
Draco sighed, his tired posture immediately drawing Harry and Hermione’s attention. Mild frustration flickered in his pale blue eyes as he stepped away from the door. ‘Gandalf asked me to come and get you,’ he said, delivering the message with a tone that sounded forced and casual, and a slight shrug revealing his reluctance as a messenger. Harry and Hermione faced him, their expressions revealing curiosity and caution as they waited for more information. Draco twisted his lips into his typical smirk—an expression that mingled amusement with scorn—and said, ‘Ol’ Lordy wants us to meet around a bonfire and exchange pleasantries.’ He delivered the words in a sarcastic tone, making it obvious he wasn’t thrilled about the task and found it rather dull.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk2xy18uhuC
Harry let a faint smile of mild amusement play across his lips at Draco’s comment, but he chose not to reply. A subtle gleam of humour danced in his green eyes, a smirk hovering at the corner of his mouth. Rather than engage in the usual banter, Harry nodded with steady, intentional movements. He pushed his chair back and stood up smoothly, gathering his belongings.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5lK0NMCSBP
Hermione tolerated Draco’s disrespect even less. She straightened, planted her feet firmly, and fixed him with a steady look, her hazel eyes flashing with annoyance. She confidently placed her hands on her hips. ‘It’s Lord Elrond, Malfoy. He deserves respect,’ she said sharply, the sternness in her tone becoming more evident as she furrowed her brow and set her jaw firmly, making it clear she would not allow irreverence.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6h7HeHSvXV
Draco curled his lips into a sardonic smile and replied, ‘Oh? My apologies,’ letting sarcasm drip from his voice. He extended one arm in an exaggerated, theatrical gesture and performed a deep bow, clearly more mockery than genuine respect. Even though his apology was obviously insincere, he delivered it with his usual flair, blending arrogance and theatricality. When he straightened, he allowed a subtle, knowing smirk to play on his lips and looked at Hermione’s stern expression, entirely unfazed by her disapproval, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb9qLgtdVXw
The two Gryffindors drew nearer to Draco, narrowing the distance between themselves and their long-time rival. Harry stood composed, his expression carefully neutral. His emerald eyes fixed steadily on Draco. ‘So, where are we meeting?’ he asked directly, keeping his tone even and deliberately void of emotion.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs4dBYzJscy
‘In the gardens,’ Draco said dismissively, clipping his words and glancing at the arched windows. He swiftly turned away, neither waiting nor looking back. He kept his posture stiff, squaring his shoulders with a hint of defiance, determined to conceal his true feelings. He strode towards the exit with purposeful steps, refusing to look back, and clearly expecting Harry and Hermione to follow at their own pace.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHI3WCe47dg
Harry and Hermione exchanged a puzzled glance and then quietly followed Draco, trailing behind him at a slower pace. They whispered urgently to each other as they walked—Hermione’s voice revealing her worry, and Harry responding in low, uncertain tones.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXYFaBWWdRD
Draco maintained a straight posture and a firm jaw, his expression calm and unreadable, yet with each step, his movements grew heavier. He actively sensed a familiar loneliness creeping in as he walked alone through the halls. He often considered making peace with Harry and Hermione, yet he never managed to do it. Quiet moments brought the idea to the forefront of his mind—a fragile hope mingled with his stubborn pride, which always held him back. He recognised that showing civility was a good first step, even though he found it hard to suppress his sharp retorts. Every time he spoke, he battled the urge to unleash a harsh remark, forcing himself to exercise self-control. Determined to swallow his sarcasm and take a deep breath, he realised that shifting alliances demanded a level of maturity he wasn’t accustomed to. He struggled to keep his sarcastic thoughts to himself, knowing that friendliness didn’t come naturally and that he constantly fought to overcome past grudges. Sometimes, old resentments weighed heavily on his chest, and every attempt at civility felt unnatural and exhausting—like speaking a foreign language he had never truly mastered. Despite this, Draco resolved, in small ways, to close the gap between himself and the Gryffindors, accepting the challenge of balancing pride with reconciliation.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXC7i0Dme5p
As the trio neared the clearing, they saw Aragorn, Gimli, and Boromir tending the bonfire. They arranged the kindling with care and lit it, encouraging the flames to grow. Boromir crouched low and methodically stacked slender twigs in a criss-cross pattern. Gimli used his steady hands to select the strongest branches and placed them on top of the pile. Aragorn worked alongside them, the orange glow softly illuminating his face as he coaxed the first sparks into a steady flame. The smell of woodsmoke drifted into the cool evening air, mingling with the earthy scent of moss and fallen leaves. The clearing, though small, featured large, smooth logs that the Elves had thoughtfully arranged in a circle around the fire for comfort. Each log gleamed, free of moss, and sat at the proper distance from the flames to offer warmth. Golden sunlight filtered through the ancient trees, dancing over the gathering spot and creating a warm, welcoming atmosphere in the secluded woodland glade.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2nwk3Prfkl
As Hermione stepped into the clearing, nostalgia washed over her unexpectedly. The fresh scent of woodsmoke instantly reminded her of childhood nights spent around campfires with her parents, when their laughter filled the air as they toasted marshmallows. The soft rustling of leaves and the flickering flames merged with memories of her mother gently smoothing her hair and her father’s reassuring presence beside her. Overwhelmed, Hermione felt her shoulders sink beneath the weight of longing and regret, and she gulped for air as tears threatened to spill. The persistent fear that she might never see her parents again pressed against her chest—a sharp, familiar ache—reminding her of the desperate, irreversible action she had taken to keep them safe. She could not shake the memory of casting the Memory Charm—her wand trembling as she uttered the spell, her heart breaking despite her attempts to believe it was for the best. She continued to hope that one day she would find them, restore their memories, and mend their fragile relationship, longing for another chance to reclaim the love she had sacrificed to protect them.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMxrkftEsAt
Hermione understood exactly what consequences her actions would bring. She fully expected her parents to react with fury, their anger stemming from profound loss and confusion—viewing her deed not as protection but as a personal betrayal. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but although regret threatened to overwhelm her, she fought hard to maintain her composure. She furrowed her brows in worry, pressed her lips together and steadied her breath. Quickly, she wiped her eyes—her fingers trembling as she did so. She sniffed softly, determined to keep her emotions in check and avoid revealing her vulnerability, especially in front of the strangers she was only beginning to trust. The pain, sharp and familiar, made her straighten her back, set her jaw and resolve not to let her feelings show in the quiet, firelit clearing, knowing she was being watched, whether intentionally or not.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ89t867jCyy
Hermione drew a deep breath and scanned the clearing, spotting the Hobbits sitting cosily around the bonfire. They sat cross-legged atop the soft moss, their small figures illuminated by the flickering firelight. Each Hobbit gripped a rustic stick and roasted sausages over the flames, turning them slowly until they were golden brown. Warmth and happiness lit up their faces, radiating pure joy—especially Sam, who spun his sausage with expert care, his cheeks flushed rosy. Merry and Pippin nudged one another and whispered teasingly, their laughter impossible to hide. Frodo smiled gently at his friends, his eyes brimming with genuine happiness, as if all concerns had faded for this brief moment. The innocent joy and close bond they shared touched Hermione’s heart. Despite everything, she smiled, comforted by their carefree friendship.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVzPltcDh9m
Boromir moved with purpose at the edge of the clearing, gathering firewood from the neatly stacked pile the Elves had kindly provided. He lifted the heavy branches and added them to the growing pile beside the bonfire. He drew his brows in concentration, and the setting sun’s warm glow gleamed off the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, emphasising his determined expression. Every so often, he paused to scan the clearing, ensuring the fire would burn brightly enough to ward off the night’s approaching chill.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPSoaAt8vRB
Aragorn sat quietly to the side, his pipe clamped between his teeth as he watched the flames flicker. Bluish smoke curled upward from his pipe, mingling with the night air and swirling above him. The shifting light softened his rugged features, shadows tracing his cheekbones and jaw. He maintained a relaxed but alert posture, keeping one hand resting lightly on his sword’s hilt, prepared for sudden danger. His eyes, distant and thoughtful, reflected a deep contemplation—he seemed to consider the difficult paths ahead or recall past journeys filled with companionship and loss. The fire’s orange glow etched lines of fatigue on his face, betraying the burdens he quietly carried and the memories he chose to keep unspoken.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWoWexpY5xD
Gimli sat on a log beside the Hobbits, firmly planting his sturdy boots in the mossy ground and launching into an energetic tale. The firelight danced across his ruddy cheeks and tangled beard, gleaming off his polished handaxe as he emphasised each part of his story. He recounted how he single-handedly defeated a massive ogre in the shadowy caverns of his homeland—relying only on his handaxe and quick thinking. His deep voice rose in lively crescendos, carrying his characteristic Dwarven bluster. He described the ogre’s heavy footsteps echoing through the stone halls, the tense moment before the fight began, and the pride he felt when he won, seeing the victory as a traditional rite of passage among his people.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4UgSWrjdSX
The fire cast lively shadows on the Hobbits’ faces as they sat, eyes wide with awe and amusement. They whispered incredulously and giggled at Gimli’s exaggerated antics, clearly mesmerised by the story and its lively storyteller. Sam gazed in amazement, his mouth agape, while Merry and Pippin nudged each other, attempting to hide their laughter as Gimli mimed the ogre’s confused defeat.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡl9tRkhEHkv
Harry and Draco surprised Hermione most by sitting together. Usually at odds, the two boys came over to join Gimli and settled side by side on a log, firelight flickering across their faces. They sat in relaxed postures—Harry with his shoulders loose, and Draco with his usual guarded look softened by genuine interest. Both leaned in as Gimli told his story, their eyes widening with each new detail. Harry nodded eagerly at times or asked a thoughtful question. Draco, setting aside his sarcasm for curiosity, listened closely and even gave a faint smile at some of Gimli’s more impressive tales. Hermione found it uplifting and unexpected to watch them share a peaceful moment of curiosity, free from past hostilities. Rather than rivalry, their relationship—at least for now—rested on quiet amity, rooted in shared wonder and the enjoyment of a good story.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGhctXQr6Ud
Hermione scanned the group and noticed Gandalf and Legolas were missing. Their absence left a subtle gap in the lively circle. She shrugged lightly, pulled her cloak more snugly around her shoulders to ward off the evening chill, and settled on a nearby log by the fire. Hermione gazed into the flickering firelight, letting the golden and orange hues dance across her thoughtful features and cast shifting shadows that mirrored her inner turbulence. The fire crackled and snapped, sending tiny embers upward, their glow lighting up Hermione’s deep brown eyes.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCGX4ut6lA2
She quietly settled among the group, unaware that Legolas watched her from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. His intense blue eyes, sharp and unwavering, remained fixed on Hermione as his tall, slender figure blended into the dimming twilight. The Elf stood perfectly still, using the dark trunks of ancient trees for cover, while stray firelight occasionally made his golden hair shimmer faintly. Legolas continued to study Hermione, his gaze keen and unreadable, searching her posture for the slightest sign of discomfort or vulnerability.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLheRuTiqnH
Draco quietly sat down beside Hermione, moving with deliberate and slightly hesitant motions. He kept a respectful distance and adopted a reserved posture, folding his hands neatly in his lap and fixing his eyes on the glowing embers at their feet. For once, he chose not to make any sardonic remarks or witty comments.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcmKdvjKMse
Harry and Gimli engaged in a lively discussion that sharply contrasted with the quiet atmosphere. Gimli animatedly used his hands to tell stories of Dwarven courage and dangerous underground adventures, while Harry listened with green eyes gleaming with curiosity. Harry chuckled at Gimli’s vivid descriptions, and together they exchanged quick, witty banter that brought smiles to those nearby.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjzNOmL88iw
The Hobbits huddled warmly together just beyond the fire’s glow, their knees nearly touching. They leaned in, faces bright with conspiratorial amusement. Sam laughed, his cheeks dimpling. Pippin whispered a mischievous joke, making Merry giggle silently. Frodo looked at his friends and gave them a tender smile, his eyes sparkling with affection for their playful mood.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsHR2wQVAid
Boromir and Aragorn stood slightly apart from the group. They spoke quietly, choosing their words with care and formality, a sign that unresolved disagreements still lingered. Boromir kept his jaw firm and gestured subtly, while Aragorn listened intently, stress visible in his eyes. Although they maintained politeness, a faint tension simmered between them—an underlying hostility that flickered, exposing conflicts neither had easily forgotten.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡitTMVVJ15r
As she looked around, Hermione finally noticed Legolas standing apart from the bonfire at the edge of the clearing. Shadows cloaked him, revealing only his slender outline and shimmering golden hair. He remained perfectly still, blending into the ancient woods with a presence that appeared both ghostly and alert. Firelight caught strands of his hair, transforming them into spun gold while the rest of his figure merged with the surrounding trees.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZYO81Rguy5
Gandalf soon emerged from the shadows, his tall figure radiating solemnity as he stepped into the firelight. His silver-grey robes caught the glow, while his staff tapped softly against the ground with each measured stride. Lord Elrond walked at his side, commanding immediate attention with his calm and noble presence. Their arrival introduced seriousness and purpose to the gathering, prompting everyone to straighten and turn their focus to them instinctively.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoJhK0vVWNO
Legolas stepped out from the shadows with near-silent grace as Gandalf and Lord Elrond entered—he moved so seamlessly that only the most observant noticed. He quietly positioned himself behind the log where Aragorn and Boromir talked, his boots barely making a sound on the mossy ground. The firelight briefly accentuated the piercing blue of his eyes. Those bright, steady eyes met Hermione’s for a moment, and the intensity of his gaze—a mysterious blend of Elven wisdom and hidden emotion—made her shiver. For an instant, he seemed to see straight through her, as if he sensed her unspoken thoughts. Hermione quickly averted her gaze, breaking the quiet connection, and her heart pounded as she tried to steady her breathing.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKm3DvsVoYz
Elrond greeted them with, ‘Good evening,’ and the group immediately silenced themselves, letting their conversations fade into the night as they turned to the Elf Lord, their eyes brimming with anticipation and curiosity. ‘Today, we officially recognised the members of the Fellowship of the Ring,’ he announced, fixing his steady, focused gaze on each companion in turn, pausing briefly to assess them. He continued, ‘You have two months to prepare for the journey beyond these walls. Finish all preparations within this period. It would be wise to sharpen your skills,’ he advised, focusing particularly on the Hobbits. He regarded them with gentle understanding, recognising both their courage and the concern flickering across their faces—determination and anxiety about the challenge ahead.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2ktgGpBv0a
Elrond gave Harry, Draco, and Hermione a serious, contemplative look, steadily assessing each of them for their strengths and weaknesses. ‘I have been informed of your remarkable magical talents,’ he said, respectfully nodding to acknowledge their skills. However, his compliment carried a genuine note of concern. ‘Nevertheless, it would be prudent for each of you to consider acquiring an additional skill or profession—something that can help you defend yourselves if you find yourselves without your wands.’ When Elrond finished speaking, he met Gandalf’s gaze across the circle, and a silent understanding passed between them.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuwBFQBemgk
Gandalf strode forward, his staff casting long, dancing shadows across the circle. ‘I will spend some time teaching you spells and abilities,’ he declared to the trio, his tone steady with calm confidence and promise. Anticipation lit up Hermione’s eyes, reflecting the flames, and she offered a genuine smile—her excitement unmistakable. She leaned in slightly, clasped her hands in her lap, and sat clearly eager to learn from one of the greatest wizards she knew.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8uh4rezmEx
Elrond fixed his intense gaze on the trio. ‘Yes, but I also recommend that you pursue training in the fundamentals of archery or swordsmanship. You do not need to become experts in either art, but it could save your life,’ he said earnestly, his eyes steady and sincere. ‘Among your companions, Boromir and Aragorn are skilled swordsmen, each with unique techniques learned from their former masters.’ He fixed his gaze on Boromir, who stood tall and proud. Boromir’s sword, resting at his side, bore the marks of years of dedicated training. Next to him, Aragorn radiated quiet authority; his calm confidence and the habitual way he kept his hand near his weapon revealed the skill and discipline he had honed through years of struggle and survival. Though their temperaments differed, both displayed a sense of capability forged by battle and long journeys. Elrond nodded toward Boromir and Aragorn, acknowledging their expertise and the value they contributed to the group.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsiwcYv2CiP
Elrond paused before saying, ‘Legolas…’ bringing the Elf into focus beneath everyone’s gaze. Legolas shifted slightly, maintaining his poise, though a hint of humility softened his demeanour. ‘…has perfected archery and dagger skills. He will share his knowledge, but do not be discouraged if you cannot yet match his skill.’ Elrond spoke with a softened tone and gave a reassuring smile, recognising how intimidating it might be to learn from such a skilled warrior.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzIxW19dEGD
‘Choose your decision carefully, as this might be your only opportunity. You are not required to select a profession. Still, it is strongly recommended,’ he advised, fixing each member with a firm, penetrating gaze, holding their eyes just long enough for everyone to feel the significance of his scrutiny. Elrond did not judge—he showed deep respect for their choices and genuine concern for their well-being on the perilous journey ahead. As his expression softened, he added, ‘The opportunity before you is rare—do not take it lightly.’ Silence settled over the group, intense and contemplative, as each companion considered their path, aware that tonight’s decisions could shape both the fate of the Fellowship and their own lives for years to come.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡusXgPB3sKP
Draco suddenly exclaimed, ‘I choose the banjo!’ His outburst sliced through the tense and serious atmosphere like an unexpected chord. The group responded with a wave of genuine, light, spontaneous laughter. Harry laughed loudly, clutching his stomach, while even Hermione allowed a slight smile to form despite her efforts to stay serious. The Hobbits exchanged gleeful glances and giggles, their amusement fuelling more teasing and playful jests towards Draco. For a few moments, the companions seemed more like old friends gathered around a campfire than a group on the brink of a dangerous quest.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaUrvxvd9nS
Legolas maintained his calm throughout the festivities, his dignified silence and steady composure revealing only a slight quirk of his lips to suggest his amusement at Draco’s antics. He regarded Draco with tolerant amusement and quiet Elven elegance. Lord Elrond gave a subtle, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling slightly as he watched Draco and humoured the young wizard’s lively spirit. Gandalf rolled his eyes with a resigned air—a gesture he had perfected over years of dealing with spirited youths—while his mouth twitched as if he struggled to hold back a smile. Their restraint stood in sharp contrast to the group’s laughter. Yet, their subtle reactions showed that they appreciated Draco’s cheerfulness.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcdJ0bG7iWY
Elrond arched an eyebrow, letting a flicker of amusement pass over his usually composed face as he regarded Draco. ‘Oh, have you learned the way of the Bard, Master Malfoy?’ he asked softly, keeping his voice warm even as he maintained a formal tone. The corners of his mouth curled into a subtle smile, as though he struggled to preserve his dignity while Draco made his unexpected remark. Yet it was clear to everyone that Elrond genuinely found the moment amusing, his joy shining through his measured words, and the group easily sensed his good-natured spirit and fondness for such youthful, irreverent moments.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg0IsRchosQ
Draco gave a sheepish smile and shook his head, saying, ‘Umm… that would be a no.’ His cheeks flushed slightly while the group’s laughter lingered, and he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8Bj5RGI9KN
Draco met Elrond’s thoughtful gaze as the Elf Lord assessed the young wizard’s potential and temperament. Speaking deliberately but warmly, Elrond said, ‘Then, I suggest you start with something simpler,’ his smooth, reassuring voice conveying the quiet authority of someone experienced in guiding others. The faint crinkle at the corners of his eyes revealed his fondness for youthful enthusiasm, yet his tone left no doubt that he wanted Draco to take this challenge seriously and remain open-minded. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzShKlaalMi
Draco gave the Elf Lord a playful salute, mixing mischief and humility. Though he acted light-heartedly, he genuinely respected Elrond, and his gesture hinted at the companionship growing between them after their evening exchanges. Clearly amused by Draco’s antics, Elrond struggled to hold back a smile; his dignified old-world façade began to slip, and a flicker of amusement brightened his eyes. For a moment, shared laughter softened the Elf Lord’s stern demeanour, making him seem almost young again. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh20BM64hOa
As the laughter faded, Elrond straightened, returning to his usual calm and dignified stance, then focused his attention on the Fellowship’s members. He met each companion’s eyes in turn, offering subtle encouragement and reassurance, as though he shared his steady determination with every one of them. ‘Rest well, all of you, for tomorrow marks the beginning of your journey, and you will need your strength for the training to come,’ he said, his words imbued with timeless wisdom and a promise of guidance. With a graceful nod, Elrond quietly departed the circle and disappeared into Rivendell’s shadowy paths.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEwFg1Sd7jK
Boromir leaned forward with curiosity and scanned them, lingering on each companion to seek familiarity or confidence in their eyes. He rested his calloused hands on his knees and asked, ‘Has anyone here ever used a sword?’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡV4J0bKTSUf
Aragorn added, ‘Or a bow?’ his tone was calm and purposeful. His sharp blue eyes scanned the group, pausing briefly to acknowledge Legolas and the Elven Prince’s unmatched skill. Meeting Aragorn’s gaze, Boromir shared a silent agreement, his hands resting on his sword belt.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNdRPBIDgEG
Harry met Gandalf’s eyes, and the elder wizard gave a subtle, encouraging nod. Still wary, he realised that no one there truly understood the origins he brought with him except for Gandalf, Hermione, and Draco. He felt the unfamiliarity of Rivendell pressing in on him—a land filled with ancient wisdom and Elven grace, so unlike the stone corridors of Hogwarts and the echoes of magical battles that haunted his memory. Doubt gnawed at him, leaving him uncertain whether Hogwarts even existed in this era. He cleared his throat and spoke softly, ‘I once killed a Basilisk with a sword,’ he confessed, his voice trembling slightly as he recalled the terrifying encounter beneath the school’s ancient chambers. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvjcR8NbB5x
Gimli dropped his jaw, Aragorn raised his eyebrows in surprise, and even Legolas allowed his calm demeanour to waver as he regarded Harry with newfound respect. Boromir leaned forward, awe and disbelief filling his eyes as the flickering firelight reflected in his steely gaze, taking in the weight of Harry’s confession.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCWqARfWuXa
Harry paused briefly, careful not to exaggerate his abilities or let the moment inflate his reputation. He shifted in his seat, weighed down by memories—the cold stone beneath him, the Basilisk’s terrifying form, and the surge of adrenaline as he fought to survive. ‘I wasn’t trained to use one, though,’ he added humbly, his voice trembling slightly. ‘It was just survival instinct.’ He unconsciously tightened his grip on his knees and glanced downward, almost embarrassed by the luck and desperation that saw him through.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡltcHIMhDcF
Lord Elrond re-entered the clearing before anyone else could speak. He moved with the elegant grace typical of Elves, his steps barely making a sound on the soft grass. In his hands, he carried an object wrapped in luxurious crimson cloth—silky and richly textured—decorated with intricate gold embroidery that shimmered in the firelight. The gold thread formed delicate patterns—perhaps Elven script or curling vines—and caught every flicker of light, giving the bundle an air of reverence and ceremony. Elrond’s careful handling made it clear that the hidden item was both precious and meaningful.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa1TzC1oY0B
Elrond approached the edge of the firelit circle, addressing Harry with a formal yet respectful tone, ‘Master Harry Potter,’ each word carrying a gentle authority.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnGcJX4uIQO
Harry blinked in confusion, still trying to grasp Elrond’s formal greeting. He asked, ‘Lord Elrond?’ his green eyes flicking between the regal Elf Lord and the bundle cradled in Elrond’s long, graceful hands.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqwL1NBlDqd
Elrond exchanged a swift, knowing glance with Gandalf, amusement briefly flickering in his ancient eyes before his expression softened into gentle solemnity as he turned his attention to Harry. With the elegant grace characteristic of an Elf Lord, Elrond stepped forward and stood with reverence and ceremony, but a hint of warmth touched his lips as he addressed the young Gryffindor. Elrond spoke to Harry in a calm tone, blending formality with genuine kindness, ‘I believe this belongs to you.’ He offered the carefully wrapped package with a small, respectful bow, his words echoing tradition and proper care, and the surprised wizard silently accepted the meaningful gift in a moment brimming with significance and wonder.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ12t13BlUu1
Harry knelt and carefully placed it on the grass. He ran his fingers over the richly textured crimson cloth, pausing to trace the detailed gold embroidery that shimmered and danced in the firelight. Each thread sparkled brilliantly, hinting at ancient craftsmanship and reverence. The embroidery, both delicate and bold, formed winding Elven patterns that resembled entwined vines and flowing script. The gold motifs caught every stray gleam in the night, appearing almost magical.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYIGK2jtj51
Harry untied the knots holding the fabric, moving with care and a sense of ceremony as he folded each layer back. As he lifted away the final covering, he let out a quiet gasp. The unmistakable Sword of Gryffindor lay revealed against the cloth, resembling a sacred relic placed upon an altar. The blade caught the campfire’s flicker and the moonlight streaming through the trees, shimmering with a gentle, silvery glow. Its surface shone flawlessly—polished to a mirror-like finish, with intricate goblin markings along the fuller that spoke of its age and extraordinary origins. The beautifully proportioned handle nestled securely within the folds of the cloth. Rubies adorned the pommel at its top, each one catching and reflecting the light to cast tiny red flashes onto the grass, creating the effect of fire embers settling into the metal. The symmetrical cross-guard, crafted with elegant silver, extended outward in graceful, wing-like curves that highlighted the sword’s noble aura. Bold, flowing script engraved the name “Godric Gryffindor” just above the guard on the flat of the blade. Each letter, filled with history and destiny, revealed an artist’s craftsmanship—deeply etched to endure for centuries, yet delicate in design.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaXL9OKoWq6
Harry widened his eyes at the legendary weapon and watched his reflection flicker in the gleaming steel. Memories washed over him as he felt the sword’s weight, drew courage from its presence, and acknowledged the legacy it represented. The sword quietly thrummed with power, as though it recognised its rightful master and had travelled through time and magic to reach him. Holding the relic in his hands in Rivendell, Harry struggled to believe that he now possessed such an extraordinary artefact, entwined with another legend’s tale. For a moment, he ignored everything else, standing as a young man gripping a hero’s blade, overcome by awe at its mysterious return.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjgbYkWKzFc
Harry looked up at Lord Elrond in confusion and asked, ‘How?’ His quiet voice, laced with awe, revealed his struggle to grasp the reverence of the moment and the strange reality before him. Harry searched Elrond’s calm eyes for any sign or reassurance, eager to understand how something so precious and seemingly unattainable could have found its way back to him in this era.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhkEBz1V8er
Hermione and Draco stared at the sword, their amazement matching Harry’s surprise. Hermione widened her eyes as she gazed at the gleaming blade, instantly recognising its significance. She recalled Harry’s wish to bring treasured items from Hogwarts, especially the legendary Sword of Gryffindor. The sword’s return overwhelmed Hermione, and she realised how much it meant to Harry and the memories it evoked—courage in dark times, battles fought and won, and the enduring bonds of friendship and legacy. Even Draco, usually guarded, found himself captivated by the craftsmanship and the magic radiating from the ancient weapon.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqqEuN2R6TY
Elrond gave Harry a gentle smile before exchanging a brief, meaningful glance with Gandalf. ‘An old friend,’ Elrond finally said, blending warmth with a hint of mystery in his words, as if this friend’s identity was woven into Rivendell’s history. Then, with elegant finality, Elrond turned away from the firelit circle and disappeared into the quiet night.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ27mfYlwbVS
Harry furrowed his brow as he looked at Gandalf, confusion and wonder in his expression. ‘How did it get here, Gandalf? I left it behind,’ he asked softly, his voice tentative and edged with disbelief.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8XVS4E9R3w
Gandalf explained, his voice filled with both reverence and wonder, as if he revealed a secret woven from threads of fate, ‘Gryffindor chose you as the heir of his sword even as it was being forged.’ The wizard continued, gently gesturing toward the sword’s shining edge, ‘There is a mystical bond between this blade and its true heir—a connection formed not only through magic but also through intent and virtue.’ Gandalf added, ‘When you left with me, the sword didn’t stay behind; instead, it responded to the ancient enchantment that binds it to its master, crossing all boundaries to find you once more.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3mCvW3gDSN
Gandalf’s words lingered in the still air, carrying deep significance. ‘Nevertheless, Gryffindor believed you might one day face challenges beyond Hogwarts, so he entrusted the Elves with its protection. Here, amidst their wisdom and grace, it has remained concealed—shielded by Rivendell’s enchantments—until the moment was right and you were prepared to reclaim it.’ As he finished speaking, Gandalf softened his expression into a warm, almost paternal pride. He watched Harry’s overwhelmed reaction with understanding, recognising that the sword’s return marked not just a reunion with a weapon but a rekindling of courage, legacy, and hope rooted in legend.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdWQNJ9DtKt
Draco looked at Gandalf, his eyes widening as disbelief and a hint of anxiety flickered across his face. ‘Gryffindor is here?’ he asked, his voice laced with awe and concern. The idea that the founder was alive in this era visibly unsettled him; he clenched his hands at his sides, and doubt flickered in his blue eyes.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaQKhrt9Fp6
Gandalf nodded knowingly. ‘Of course, he is,’ he said calmly, implying that those familiar with Middle-earth’s histories would not find this surprising. ‘He is not called “Gryffindor” here. His true name is Aiwendil, and like me, he is one of the Maiar.’ Affection and respect softened Gandalf’s face as his eyes shone. ‘Most in this place know him as Radagast the Brown.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd25TgRobER
Harry glanced briefly at the sword, then grasped it firmly with both hands and raised the tip upward. The blade caught the firelight, its detailed engravings gleaming as Harry adjusted his stance. He drew a deep breath, steadying himself as the cold night air filled his lungs, and tightened his grip on the hilt, feeling the cool, solid weight of the ancient weapon. With deliberate intent, he lifted the Sword of Gryffindor above his head, the rubies in the pommel reflecting the campfire’s glow and casting tiny crimson specks across his knuckles. Harry calmly and precisely moved the sword, swinging it in a sweeping arc that combined fluidity with power. Each time he swung it, the blade rang out with a clear, echoing note that lingered in the night air and resonated through the clearing like a dawn bell. He guided the blade along a sharp, precise path, determinedly cutting through the darkness. The display mesmerised everyone watching; they locked their gaze on the shining sword and marvelled at Harry’s skilful control.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwMpGr10aOd
Gandalf’s pride shone as he watched Harry skilfully wield the Sword of Gryffindor. Approval sparkled in his eyes, recognising the bond between Harry and the legendary weapon. He noted Harry’s poise—the confident set of his shoulders, the firm grip on the sword’s hilt, and the blade’s subtle reaction to its true heir. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9Ol4QdTnFb
‘Yes, it was always meant to be yours, Harry,’ Gandalf said, prompting Harry to turn eagerly towards him, hope and anticipation shining in his eyes. He observed the young wizard’s features and recognised not only his courage and determination as Gryffindor’s heir, but also the traces of lineage and destiny that connected him to this moment. Gandalf’s voice softened, laden with significance, ‘It also has a lot to do with your heritage.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpgM2w5VTA2
Curiosity overcame Harry, and he turned to Gandalf. ‘My heritage? How is that even possible? How could Gryffindor have known to make me the heir to his sword?’ he asked, his voice trembling slightly.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMlR9Fk57cU
Gandalf perched on a log beside Draco and rested his staff against his knee. Draco, sitting tensely next to Gandalf, displayed both curiosity and caution. Meanwhile, Harry sat on the ground in front of Gandalf, legs crossed and arms loosely draped over his knees. Gandalf examined the faces of the Fellowship, recognising the secrets he carried and ensuring he did not reveal too much about Hogwarts. Gandalf fixed his thoughtful gaze on Harry, his blue eyes shining with pride and gentle encouragement, and asked, ‘Do you remember the special skills gifted to Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff?’ Gandalf chose his words with care, reminding Harry of the ancient stories and lessons he had learnt about the four legendary figures.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJoBfrMmfKJ
Harry paused and drew on his memories of the Hogwarts founders. Gazing into the flickering firelight, he spoke with reflection and respect. ‘Slytherin could communicate with snakes,’ he said, recalling the stories from his childhood. That mention conjured an image of Salazar Slytherin—tall and mysterious—conversing with snakes in the castle’s shadowy corridors. Harry imagined the founder’s sharp eyes and serpentine presence, a figure defined by the unique gift that set him apart.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFGmBGn6CT2
Harry continued, ‘Ravenclaw possessed unparalleled intelligence, and her wisdom was remarkable.’ He pictured Rowena Ravenclaw as a noble woman adorned in blue and bronze, her sharp eyes always brimming with curiosity. She walked the corridors of Hogwarts with poise and confidence, her mind constantly anticipating what lay ahead. Harry remembered stories about her, describing how she crafted riddles that challenged only the truly wise and designed charms that shaped the very fabric of magic.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhCskRHGBUD
Harry said, ‘Gryffindor was renowned for his duelling skills, along with his loyalty and strength—qualities that set him apart,’ feeling the Sword of Gryffindor’s weight as he spoke. He imagined Godric Gryffindor as daring and broad-shouldered, sporting a fiery mane of hair and standing proudly to inspire others. Gryffindor’s legendary bravery always formed the core and spirit of Hogwarts, with his blade flashing as he defended his friends and the school. The sword Harry held seemed to radiate honour, courage, and unwavering resolve from its very metal.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡghjBlV3tTK
He quietly concluded, ‘And Hufflepuff was celebrated for her extraordinary healing skills,’ and visualised Helga Hufflepuff as a warm, caring figure with gentle hands tending to the injured and tired. Tales highlight her kindness alongside her magical talents: she championed hard work, fairness, and friendship, and she skilfully healed both physical injuries and emotional wounds. Harry pictured her humming softly while she crafted restorative potions, her presence soothing him like a cosy quilt on a chilly evening.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvBuDemxbcd
As Harry considered these legendary qualities, he felt their legacy weave itself around him. He wondered if a more profound connection existed between these remarkable traits and Gryffindor’s choice to entrust him with the sword.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiURvoadlMR
Gandalf gave Harry a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement beneath his bushy eyebrows. ‘Very good, I see you listened to the tales—unlike others, except Hermione—who often dozed off during those lessons,’ he said with a soft chuckle. Hermione’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the praise, and she lowered her head. Gandalf leaned in, curiosity and conspiracy lighting his tone. With a broad smile, he revealed, ‘Hufflepuff was not only skilled at healing but also possessed another talent known only to the four of them and the Elves.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYImrcttOc2
Draco narrowed his eyes in scepticism, furrowing his brows as he tried to grasp Gandalf’s mysterious words. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, letting his fingers linger along his jawline as he searched for answers beneath Gandalf’s story. After a quiet moment of reflection, Draco finally broke the silence, challenging and curious as he spoke. ‘So, how do you know what it is?’ he asked, his words crisp and sharp.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ58RkwgOxL2
Gandalf replied, ‘Why, she told me, of course,’ and shook his head with a gentle smile. Affection and a touch of nostalgia filled his eyes as he recalled the many adventures and secrets he had shared with the Founders. ‘They are indeed dear friends of mine. We’ve shared many journeys—through shadowed forests and moonlit halls, exchanging wisdom and laughter beneath stars visible only to Elves.’ He continued, ‘Of course, you wouldn’t recognise them unless introduced, except for Salazar. He’s the only one without an alias—Salazar is his real name. The tales refer to him as “Slytherin”, but nobody knows his actual surname or if he has one,’ Gandalf disclosed, smiling at their stunned looks, his gentle humour tinged with a touch of wistfulness.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfv2gmadnOC
With a nostalgic smile, Gandalf murmured, ‘Now, where was I?’ Anticipation filled the brief silence that followed, before the firelight illuminated his face as he brightened. ‘Ah, yes, Hufflepuff. She is a very powerful Seer. Unlike other Seers you have met, Hufflepuff could control this gift at will,’ Gandalf explained, his voice quietly reverent as he shared the legendary tale. Gandalf explained, ‘Unpredictable prophecies or fleeting visions did not limit her sight; Helga could decide when to look beyond the veil. She listened to the wind, observed the shifting shadows, and glimpsed futures even the most skilled Elven lore-masters could not see. This ability was rare and dangerous, requiring not only magical skill but also a deep wisdom and compassion known only to the greatest beings.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ7650n1GrV
Harry pictured Helga Hufflepuff standing in a meadow of wildflowers, her eyes closed in peaceful focus as petals fluttered around her, stirred by unseen currents of destiny. She bore the burden of knowledge with grace, acting as both healer and guide, with skills that reached far beyond ordinary remedies. Gandalf depicted her presence as a gentle breeze that could change lives and influence the course of fate itself.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvxpay6cWZ3
Gandalf drew a satisfied sigh as he looked down at Harry, ready to unveil the truth about the Sword of Gryffindor’s legacy. ‘Helga Hufflepuff can see the future and listen to prophecies carried by the wind. Her sight is unique—whenever she chooses, she opens her mind to the weaving threads of fate, following the faint hints of what is to come,’ Gandalf explained, his tone rich with the ancient mystery that lent weight to his words. He paused, allowing the audience to absorb the revelation, then spoke again with heightened passion, ‘This extraordinary gift allowed her to foresee your coming. Helga’s vision went beyond the present; she revealed a future moment when your spirit would confront fate itself. She saw you clearly woven into the fabric of time, and with her insight, she shared this vision with Godric Gryffindor. Through her perspective, Godric recognised the unique qualities within you—a rare blend of bravery, endurance, and empathy that mirrors the essence of the sword.’ Gandalf paused for a moment and smiled at Harry. ‘That’s how Godric realised, beyond doubt, that you, alongside himself, could connect with the sword’s ancient magic and command its power. Not only does your bravery matter, but also the harmony between your soul and the sword’s spirit—something only Helga’s sight revealed. Her prophecy, carried on the wind, links your fate to Gryffindor’s legacy. Now you stand at the heart of that story,’ Gandalf concluded, watching Harry’s surprise and awe as the truth enveloped him, opening a shroud of new possibilities.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCiu9CxyUMR
Hermione hugged her knees to her chest and leaned forward. ‘You said the names we heard were just aliases. So, what are their true names?’ she asked, her voice gentle yet firm with her determination to discover the truth. She tilted her head with genuine interest, her expression open and eager, ready to absorb any detail Gandalf shared, regardless of how fantastic it might be.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJIGRX5bsKy
Gandalf leaned forward slightly and adopted a storytelling tone as he addressed the group. ‘I’ve told you about Radagast, the name he’s known by in Middle-earth. It’s been a long time since anyone called him Aiwendil. He lives in Rhosgobel, at Mirkwood’s western edge. He mainly focuses on plants, animals, and birds. His companion is Gwaihir, one of the great eagles,’ Gandalf explained. For a moment, he spoke with affectionate pride, vividly painting the mysterious wizard. ‘Radagast stands apart from other Maiar. He hides his home among ancient oaks and tangled ivy, creating a refuge and zoo—foxes lounge by the fire, and owls perch on the beams. He communicates easily with both animals and people, gently calming even the most skittish woodland creatures with his soft speech.’ He paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully before continuing, ‘His bond with Gwaihir is genuinely exceptional. The lord of eagles regards Radagast as a trusted friend and advisor, and they have flown together above the treetops, looking for signs of darkness or trouble in the land. Radagast’s expertise in healing herbs and the secret ways of the wild is unmatched. He can coax flowers from frozen soil and mend injured birds’ wings with just a touch and a whisper. Though he avoids human and wizard affairs these days, his quiet wisdom and dedicated guardianship of all living creatures have earned him great respect among the people of Mirkwood, which only grows stronger each year.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmuT4DkCyfl
Harry, Hermione, and Draco exchanged astonished looks, then turned their attention back to Gandalf, their intrigue clear. Radagast’s connection with nature and his bond with Gwaihir further deepened their respect and fascination for this enigmatic figure.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO3jUXpBCYg
Gandalf’s expression darkened as he prepared to share troubling news. He said solemnly, ‘Regrettably, Salazar recently left this world,’ and paused, letting the weight of his words settle. The campfire’s light cast sombre shadows on Gandalf’s face, and sorrow etched itself into his normally calm demeanour. ‘He was killed by a Mûmakil while trying to protect his wife and young son.’ Gandalf’s voice quivered slightly as he recounted the story. Gandalf surveyed the group and paused at Draco, who clearly displayed his disappointment. Draco’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his respect for Salazar grew as he confronted the reality of such a heroic death. Gandalf spoke, blending grief and admiration for Salazar’s courage. ‘The Hobbits call these creatures Oliphaunt’s—massive giants with dangerous tusks. Salazar held his ground, confronting impossible odds not with fury but with calm resolve. In his last moments, he fought fiercely, ensuring his family could escape the rampaging beast, even at the cost of his own life.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9lgf5qftnx
Draco absorbed the news, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames while the shock registered on his face. The death of Salazar Slytherin struck him deeply; he had long admired the founder of his Hogwarts house. The knowledge that the legendary founders lived in this era had filled Draco with hope and encouraged his dream of meeting Slytherin one day. Upon learning that this could never happen, disappointment overtook him, and he tensed his shoulders. He clenched his hands in his lap rather than resting them confidently on his knees, striving to compose himself. For a brief moment, his noble demeanour faltered, exposing a vulnerable young man wrestling with the loss of an idol and the harsh truth that even legends can fall to fate.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvrIbUPIe7U
As Gandalf contemplated Slytherin’s enigmatic heritage, his gaze softened. ‘Salazar enjoyed an extended lifespan typical of Dúnedain Chieftains, distinguishing him from ordinary men. His appearance seemed unaffected by time—silver streaks in his hair and a posture as steady as ever. People often noted the timelessness of his eyes, which carried both deep sorrow and ancient wisdom. Still, much of his history remains hidden. He seldom spoke of his origins or lineage, preferring to keep such details private,’ Gandalf said, his voice calm and introspective. ‘Despite his noble lineage, Salazar chose not to dwell among the Dúnedain. He was less interested in the grand halls of the northern kings and instead spent many years living with the Elves of Mirkwood. There, he discovered a sense of belonging he could not find elsewhere. His connection with the Elves was profound, and he became a respected part of their community. Salazar learnt their language and customs, moving with the quiet grace typical of someone born to the woods. It is said he could move silently through the forest, unnoticed even by sharp-eyed sentries, and that he earned the trust of the most elusive woodland creatures.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIn3PWFLfvR
Gandalf turned his gaze to Legolas, including him in the narration. ‘Salazar’s close bond with the Elves also extended to his family. His wife, an Elf of remarkable beauty and wisdom, created a home that blended naturally with the surrounding forest. Both Elves and Men regarded their union as a rare merging of worlds, and their son embodied a special heritage as a half-Elf. He inherited his mother’s kin’s sharp senses and longevity, while his father’s resilience and determination shaped his spirit, making him a symbol of the connection between two ancient races. Salazar established a legacy not only through his deeds but also through his bloodline—an enduring testament to the bond between Men and Elves.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy9mrtkHQmV
Legolas quietly nodded to acknowledge Gandalf’s statement. For a moment, he allowed a hint of emotion to soften his usually calm face. ‘He was friends with my father,’ he said softly, his reverent tone suggesting cherished memories. The subtle change in his voice caught his companions’ attention, and they turned to look at him with curiosity. Legolas’s eyes grew distant, as though he recalled long-ago memories—he pictured Salazar and Thranduil walking through Mirkwood, deep in conversation or sharing laughter in the sunlight. With his quiet yet strong words, Legolas revealed his deep respect and affection for both men, highlighting the bond that once united their families.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNnhbU1yiBX
Gandalf’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he recalled the rare friendship between Salazar and Thranduil. ‘Yes, King Thranduil and he were close friends. I believe Salazar was the only one Thranduil ever took counsel from, if I remember correctly,’ Gandalf said, his tone briefly brightening as he talked about this unusual bond. Thranduil, known for his reserved and often solitary nature, actually sought advice from someone —an extraordinary act. This deep trust and mutual respect between them highlighted Salazar’s importance among the Elves of Mirkwood and his special role as a confidant to their legendary king.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZNHUDL6OfR
Many regarded Thranduil as a mysterious figure—aloof, proud, and often inscrutable, a ruler who enforced his word as law beneath Mirkwood’s ancient boughs. Yet Salazar became the companion who matched Thranduil’s wisdom and challenged his preconceptions. Their friendship grew not only from shared battles and diplomatic efforts but also from quiet moments spent together beneath the twilight canopy, where they walked and discussed matters both serious and light-hearted. Unlike others in the king’s inner circle, Salazar offered his counsel with honesty, speaking plainly and tempering his advice with genuine care for Mirkwood’s fate. Thranduil appreciated this straightforwardness, growing to rely on Salazar’s insight during uncertain times.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxyKxO8Q32F
Time and again, the two retreated to a secluded glade deep within the forest, where the air shimmered with the song of nightingales and the scent of moss and wildflowers lingered. There, away from the watchful eyes of courtiers and sentries, Thranduil would let his stern façade soften, and the burdens of his crown would lift, if only for a little while. Salazar, blending Dúnedain resilience with Elvish grace, drew out the king’s laughter—a precious sound seldom heard amongst the great halls of Mirkwood. These intimate exchanges revealed the true strength of their bond: a fellowship born not of politics or necessity, but of mutual understanding and genuine affection.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDsXgDUv1xn
The Elves spoke of their friendship with a certain reverence. Thranduil rarely extended his trust, let alone accepted advice, so only a select few, like Salazar, held the distinction. Salazar’s place in the king’s confidence elevated him to the status of a quiet legend. Witnesses to their friendship described how glances and half-smiles formed an unspoken language between them, revealing years of shared experience and trials faced side by side. Chroniclers of Mirkwood recounted, with awe, the stories of Salazar and Thranduil enduring hardship together, portraying a partnership as steadfast as the ancient oaks that sheltered their kingdom.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡToyv7VnNcE
Legolas nodded, remaining silent as he held his calm and steady expression. Hermione looked up, searching for any trace of emotion—a slight tremor in his jaw or a flicker in his crystalline eyes—but his face revealed nothing, remaining inscrutable, like marble. Yet, when their eyes met, the corners of his mouth softened slightly—an almost imperceptible shift, like a gentle breeze stirring still water—offering a faint, unreadable expression that suggested centuries of restraint and a deeply buried emotion. After a brief pause, Legolas turned towards Gandalf and nodded subtly, silently signalling his attentiveness and quiet engagement in the discussion, all the while keeping his inner thoughts concealed.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8aKSPcTuRH
Gandalf continued politely and brought up the third legendary figure. ‘Now, Helga Hufflepuff lives in Lothlórien and leads the Elves there with her husband, Celeborn. She descends from both the Noldor and the Teleri. As one of the most influential Elves of her era, she uses her abilities to protect Lothlórien. Their daughter, Lady Celebrían, married Lord Elrond,’ he explained, chuckling at their awe. ‘Helga’s real name is Galadriel, the Lady of Light,’ he added, smiling warmly as he looked into the fire.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYDvvbHxiy5
Gandalf’s voice became reverent as he elaborated on the final legendary founder. ‘Now, among the Elves of Mirkwood, they know Rowena Ravenclaw’s true name as Kérishiéra, and they praise her wisdom and beauty. They frequently call her the Mother of Elves, a title reflecting the great respect and admiration her people hold for her. She wields an influence that even surpasses Lady Galadriel’s, making her an exceptional figure in Elvish history.’ Gandalf closed his eyes briefly before opening them and gazing into the fire as he continued, ‘Kérishiéra evokes reverence wherever she goes. Her deep blue eyes, flecked with silver, reveal the weight of ages—showing joy and sorrow. When she speaks, her soothing and musical voice carries the quiet authority of one who has seen kingdoms rise and fall. She moves as gracefully as a willow swaying in the breeze, embodying the timeless elegance of her Elven ancestry.’ He paused, glancing at Legolas for a moment before turning his attention back to the group as a whole. ‘As the Mother of Elves, Kérishiéra symbolises both nurturing care and strong resilience. She has advised kings, comforted mourners, and led her people through many hardships. In Mirkwood’s ancient woods, she is honoured as the guardian of knowledge, storyteller, and spirit healer. Many elves seek her guidance, and even sceptics listen, as her wisdom often hits the core of any issue. Her presence is believed to bring calm, and her laughter, rare yet unforgettable, is likened to crystal bells ringing softly in a peaceful forest.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLwq8H5LTcK
He paused, the firelight flickering in his eyes as he gathered his thoughts. Gandalf said thoughtfully, touching his chin as he reflected on her legacy, ‘Kérishiéra arrived in Middle-earth alongside Oropher, the father of King Thranduil. She was already much older than Thranduil by then, and she grew even wiser over the centuries. Some say she alone remembers the true names of all the stars, and that the forest’s oldest oaks bend their branches in greeting whenever she passes beneath them. Throughout every age, she steadfastly commits herself to her people, and her memory weaves itself into the very fabric of Mirkwood. Hers is a legacy of hope and endurance, a testament to the power of compassion and the unbreakable spirit of the Elves,’ he added.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy3H7f8NWMS
Legolas maintained a steady expression as he looked at his companions. Yet, when he met Hermione’s gaze, his face briefly softened before he collected himself again, showing that Kérishiéra and her importance could move even the proud Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas watched as Hermione’s eyes widened in amazement while she absorbed this new detail. ‘So, she’s your mother?’ she whispered, her voice trembling with surprise.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcOY4GAS4MQ
Hermione’s emotions surged when she realised that Rowena Ravenclaw—whom she had always admired for her wisdom and grace—was not only a legendary figure but also intrinsically linked to Legolas. She tried to reconcile the iconic status of Rowena, now revealed as Kérishiéra, with the cold, noble Elf standing beside her. The discovery that Legolas was her son quickened Hermione’s heart, filling her mind with questions. She felt as if she gazed into a tapestry of ages, watching the threads of destiny intertwine in ways she had never imagined. Hermione admired Rowena even more now, her appreciation deepened by the Elven legacy, and she felt a newfound respect for Legolas himself. She carefully studied his features, searching for signs of his heritage in the lines of his face and the calm strength he projected. The connection to such an extraordinary lineage made Legolas seem even more mysterious and remarkable.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPQICpOLl4D
Legolas nodded slowly as he met Hermione’s gaze, acknowledging her words. He allowed his typically calm demeanour to soften. Almost reluctantly, he shifted his focus back to the trees, and he listened to the rustling leaves, a sound that spoke directly to his ancient soul.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeZg2Zha4ui
Draco’s curiosity soon overcame him, and he fixed hopeful eyes on Gandalf. ‘So, will we get a chance to meet them?’ He straightened his posture and kept his gaze on the old wizard.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0jQIqLg86p
Gandalf fixed Draco with a stern expression. ‘I believe you will encounter them during your journey with us. However, remember to respect who they truly are, not just what you’ve heard,’ Gandalf warned, infusing his words with both seriousness and warmth. ‘These figures are not just stories or names whispered in admiration. They are complex beings shaped by centuries of joy, hardship, and sacrifice. Truly meeting them requires humility, as their legacies go far beyond mere tales and fame. Approach them with respect, not just awe, for their souls have endured the storms of time.’ As Gandalf spoke, each person felt the weight of his advice, realising that they would need to honour the past as well as forge their own paths on this journey.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcXqcT44swx
Draco gazed at Gandalf with curiosity after a moment, his silver-blond fringe catching the firelight as he tilted his head. ‘Are you a special person as well, Gandalf?’ His tone revealed his fascination with Gandalf’s role in Middle-earth and a budding respect. Draco kept his eyes on the old wizard, searching for hidden depths behind Gandalf’s calm exterior, hoping to glimpse the legendary power or wisdom that might set him apart from ordinary folk.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡubKAX9OOfu
Draco’s question prompted a deep, resonant chuckle from Gandalf. He leaned forward slightly and offered Draco a warm smile that acknowledged his curiosity. ‘Yes, I suppose I am a special person, but I am no more extraordinary than Radagast. Both of us are Maiar,’ he began, his voice calm. As he spoke, his words followed a subtle rhythm that conveyed the weight of distant lands and timeless stories. ‘Part of the same order called the Istari. My true name is Olórin, though it has been a long time since anyone used that name.’ Gandalf paused and gazed upwards, as if he pondered the stars through the leafy canopy. Nostalgia touched his face, memories flickering like embers by the hearth. He said softly, ‘I have been called many things,’ reflecting on the many identities he has carried throughout his long journey across Middle-earth. ‘Albus Dumbledore by you and your kind, Mithrandir by the Elves, the Grey Pilgrim, Incánus by those in the South, and Tharkûn by the Dwarves.’ As he spoke, his expression softened further, a gentle sigh making him appear wistful yet content. He surveyed the gathered company and quietly stated, ‘But most often, I am known as Gandalf, the name given to me by the men of Arnor.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7sSaFDKkwW
Draco furrowed his brow as he gazed at Gandalf, pondering the list of names the wizard had just shared. After a moment of silence that seemed to stretch, Draco finally asked, ‘Does having so many names not confuse you?’ His voice was gentle yet sincere, hinting at a childlike wonder beneath his calm exterior.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbvGP4EJTuQ
Gandalf chuckled, his eyes radiating affection and amusement. He gave Draco a gentle, knowing smile. ‘At first, it was confusing, but over time, I’ve learned to see the names I receive as terms of endearment from those who give them. In their lands, I am called by the names they select,’ Gandalf said, his voice warm. He paused briefly, his eyes growing soft as gratitude shone within them. ‘Each name is a gift, a reminder of the journeys we’ve shared and the friendships we’ve built. Albus Dumbledore, Mithrandir, Tharkûn—each reflects a different culture and a part of my history. These names are not burdens but treasured tokens of the trust and respect I’ve earned across Middle-earth.’ Gandalf’s tone made his appreciation evident as he spoke, keeping his hands steady on his staff. ‘Instead of letting the many titles overwhelm me, I view them as symbols of love from those I have aided and travelled with. Each name marks a chapter of friendship, a bond forged through shared hardships and happiness. They mean more than mere words; they actively reflect my connections with the people of every land—a tapestry woven from countless acts of kindness, bravery, and loyalty.’ He softened his expression as he looked around the circle. ‘So, you see, Draco, every name is more than just a title—it is a legacy, a badge of honour, and a constant reminder of the lasting connections we forge throughout life.’ Draco nodded, his curiosity sated, and silence fell over the clearing as everyone absorbed the vast amounts of information they had received. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRUhRUmoDJq
After some time, Harry looked down at the Sword of Gryffindor lying before him. He glanced at Boromir and Aragorn, observing their confident postures and quiet strength, each man radiating the ease of an experienced warrior. Wanting to return to Boromir’s original question from earlier, Harry addressed them, saying, ‘So, sword-fighting,’ his tone curious and respectful, which drew their attention. As he spoke, he let his fingers gently touch one of the embedded rubies, feeling its polished surface cool and smooth, while his face revealed apprehension and growing resolve. ‘Is it a difficult skill to learn?’ Harry asked softly.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCqUs1uz8DH
Aragorn spoke in a steady and gentle tone, his calm voice carrying the confidence of someone who had weathered many storms. ‘It takes years to master, but you need not worry about that,’ he reassured Harry before turning to the others and saying, ‘Boromir and I can teach you to defend yourselves.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbbc1jbEySq
Boromir addressed them directly, saying, ‘We will not have you endure rigorous training,’ as he crossed his arms over his chest. He spoke in a deep, steady voice, filled with compassionate experience, reassuring the group that the training would be manageable and meaningful.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYZlartwXt9
Aragorn looked down at the sword in his hand, reverence evident on his face. The hilt, wrapped in dark, supple leather, bore intricate Elvish patterns that shimmered with a faint, enchanted thread. Delicate runes glowed softly along the fuller of the blade, whispering of ancient wisdom and power bestowed by the Elven smiths. ‘This is a custom-made Elven sword, enchanted with the magic of their people,’ he said to the group, gently tracing the runes with his fingers as if recalling the stories woven into the metal. The sword felt alive in his hand—light and perfectly balanced, yet it radiated a quiet strength that revealed its storied past and the many skilled hands that had crafted it over long hours. Aragorn carefully slid the sword back into its scabbard, demonstrating his deep respect for such a finely made weapon.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD1M6hJ6iki
Aragorn turned to Frodo and gestured towards him. ‘Frodo also received a similar sword. But his sword has a different magic—it is imbued with knowledge,’ he said softly, looking at the young Hobbit with warmth and seriousness. ‘This sword can sense danger; it glows faintly when an enemy is near, warning its owner of nearby threats.’ As Aragorn spoke, the memory of the sword’s blue glow in dangerous moments seemed almost real—a silent guardian always ready to protect its bearer. He gazed at Frodo, clearly emphasising not only the significance of the gift but also the profound protection and comfort it provided—a vigilant sentinel in a perilous world.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv3dTjAwdbJ
Boromir leaned forward, his expression earnest. ‘People learn to fight or defend with swords for various reasons,’ he began, displaying his eagerness to share his knowledge. ‘Some focus on duels, actively perfecting their skills for one-on-one combat and its challenges, seeking the thrill of facing a skilled opponent and the satisfaction that comes from honing their reflexes and discipline. Duellists approach their art with mental agility and respect for tradition, engaging in movements steeped in centuries of ritual and honour, as much as relying on physical prowess.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSQLaMIP3jQ
He looked around, his eyes flickering in the firelight, and added, ‘Some people pick up the sword for pleasure, appreciating the discipline and artistry it requires. They enjoy performing elegant drills, rhythmically clashing steel, and striving to master intricate forms, which gives them a sense of achievement and inner harmony. For them, swordplay becomes a way to express themselves, as they combine athleticism with creativity, much like a dance.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoJPAUsIFEn
He paused as he looked down at his own sword thoughtfully before continuing, ‘Some fight out of necessity to survive in a dangerous world, driven by the need to defend themselves against threats beyond civilisation. For these individuals, the sword is more than just a weapon; it is a lifeline—a way to endure danger and safeguard those unable to defend themselves. Each lesson learned carries a sense of urgency, as the skills gained could one day be crucial for survival or even mean the difference between life and death.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZAm37BjVoK
Boromir gently nodded to Harry, Hermione, and Draco before saying, ‘Others learn to wield the sword to protect themselves and those they love, motivated by loyalty and duty. Mastering a blade becomes a pledge to stand strong against challenges. Whether driven by honour, enjoyment, survival, or safety, reasons for taking up the sword vary widely, each person’s journey influenced by personal hopes, fears, and cherished bonds.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlg9mcKlayg
Boromir gave Draco, Hermione, and Harry a warm smile as he explained confidently, ‘Your training will focus on self-defence, vital if you ever are without your magical tools,’ speaking in a steady and reassuring tone. Boromir looked at each of them in turn, making sure everyone felt acknowledged and welcomed by the guidance he offered. He continued, ‘While magic is your primary tool, mastering a sword adds an extra layer of defence if necessary.’ His tone clearly conveyed his appreciation for their unique strengths, while also preparing them for future challenges. He reassured them that sword training would complement their magical skills rather than replace them, ensuring they remained prepared for unforeseen situations.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBCxWSwLJbn
‘If you wish to learn archery, Legolas is the finest Elf to ask. He handles the bow and arrow as if it were an extension of himself,’ Aragorn said, pointing at Legolas. Aragorn spoke with evident admiration, knowing Legolas’s skill with the bow was renowned. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtOA4AkMI2m
Legolas, despite Aragorn’s compliment, showed no outward reaction. He kept silent, focusing intently on the fire before them. He acknowledged Aragorn only with a brief, subtle glance—swift as a bird’s wing—before he returned his luminous eyes to the flames. His steady gaze suggested he concentrated intensely, as if the fire’s glow hid secrets or memories known only to him. In that moment, Legolas radiated quiet dignity and humility; he revealed his expertise not through words or display, but through the serene confidence and understated gratitude in that fleeting look.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡttYtYa2zXl
The Fellowship remained silent for a long time, each member reflecting deeply on the day’s events. Night blanketed the sky above them, countless stars twinkling overhead, while the fading bonfire and the bright moon cast the only light. The quiet woods surrounded the clearing, interrupted only by the crackling embers and an owl hooting in the distance. Some lifted their eyes to marvel at the starry sky stretched across the dark velvet above, while others watched the firelight dance on the ground. This peaceful moment forged an unspoken connection among them. Sharing this quiet, they felt their burdens grow lighter and their companionship deepen beyond what words could express.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4z3R1kFwLf
The bonfire dwindled to glowing embers, bathing the quiet clearing in gentle, golden light as faint wisps of smoke drifted into the cool night air. Boromir stood up, offered a warm, parting smile and said goodnight to everyone. He walked away with calm, steady steps, his figure gradually merging into the shadows beyond the gardens.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg9d5HHkGCU
Sam wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and settled near the fire, his eyelids growing heavier as he struggled to stay awake. He blinked hard, determined to catch every moment, but each blink lingered longer than the last. Frodo, worn out by the day’s hardships, sat beside him and gazed at the dying embers. The flickering light danced in his contemplative eyes as he lost himself in distant memories and dreams. Silence surrounded them, offering a quiet space for reflection, while exhaustion gently drew Frodo towards sleep.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡamQ8B5Wspg
Merry and Pippin had already fallen asleep nearby, nestling their heads close together as they slept soundly and peacefully, oblivious to their surroundings. They breathed gently, their breaths so faint they barely competed with the soft crackle of the dying fire. In the dim light, a slight smile appeared on their lips, hinting at dreams filled with laughter and comfort. Aragorn and Gimli watched the two Hobbits sleep and exchanged amused, affectionate looks for their smaller friends. They carefully moved closer, taking care not to disturb the peaceful scene. Aragorn slipped his arms gently under Merry, and Gimli, despite his tough exterior, displayed surprising tenderness as he gently lifted Pippin. Both moved slowly and carefully to avoid waking the Hobbits as they carried them to their beds.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgbMcme9EDP
Frodo and Sam, weary and burdened by the day’s fatigue, rose slowly from their places by the fire. They pulled their cloaks snug around their shoulders and crept through the gentle haze of woodsmoke, each step showing their sleepy contentment. As they walked past the dwindling group, they offered smooth, warm goodnights.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWozspMPEwN
Gandalf quietly rose from his seat by the fire and bowed his head slightly in farewell. He left with purpose but discreetly, making a subtle exit that drew little attention yet held quiet significance. Harry, wanting a private word with him, quickly followed. He paused only to inform Hermione and Draco that he needed to discuss some matters from earlier. Giving a brief nod, Harry then hurried into the night, eager for Gandalf’s advice on his concerns.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzt4uPHFKOy
Hermione perched nervously on the log and stole a glance at Draco. With most of the Fellowship having left, the clearing grew quieter and more subdued; the awkward silence settled between them like a heavy blanket, replacing the earlier easy companionship. Legolas lingered at the edge of the trees, barely visible—his slender silhouette merged with the shadows as the moonlight caught in his fair hair. He watched silently and stood still, his quiet presence deepening the hush and adding an air of calm vigilance.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD78pDScQUO
Hermione gathered her courage and glanced sideways at Draco, nervously tracing invisible patterns on her knees. ‘So, what did you think of tonight?’ she asked hesitantly, her hazel eyes showing curiosity and apprehension.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTyxnerRhPv
Hermione’s question caught Draco off guard, and he looked at her with surprise, as if he had momentarily forgotten she was there. He hesitated and shifted his blue eyes from Hermione’s probing gaze to the glowing embers at their feet. ‘Uh... I’m not sure. Well, I guess,’ he said, crossing his arms in a defensive gesture that seemed almost automatic, like a shield against his uncertainty.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6Cc7Y8CWLS
Hermione considered Draco’s words and glanced at the embers as she gathered her thoughts. ‘Yes, I agree,’ she said, her voice sincere but edged with nervousness. She frowned almost at once, realising how awkward she sounded. The firelight illuminated her face, revealing a blush on her cheeks and the subtle way she bit her lip—a clear sign she felt uncomfortable. She straightened her robes absentmindedly, her fingers twitching in her lap as she tried to hide her embarrassment.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjQXpBDrYbL
Draco gently sighed, sagging his shoulders and loosening his posture as he breathed in the cool night air. He admitted quietly to Hermione, his voice hesitant and tender, ‘You know, it’s kind of refreshing to be somewhere where nobody knows your identity or history.’ He briefly met Hermione’s gaze with his blue eyes before looking down again. Gazing into the shadows beyond the firelight with confusion and subtle sadness in his expression, he added, ‘There’s no judgement here, which is nice, but I also feel like I don’t quite belong.’47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ64KIKyyVsU
Hermione agreed with a nod, her expression mirroring Draco’s uncertainty. ‘I feel the same,’ she said quietly, her warm voice bridging the distance between them. Her genuine words surprised Draco, who realised, for the first time, that he had shared his feelings with someone else and was not alone in feeling out of place in this unfamiliar setting and company.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeilBnKuzi2
Draco moved his gaze from Hermione to the dying glow of the fire. ‘At least you and Potter have each other,’ he said quietly, his tone tinged with resignation and envy. His words revealed his loneliness within the group and acknowledged the support Hermione and Harry offered each other as lifelong friends. Draco’s shoulders tightened slightly, as though an unseen weight burdened him, and he avoided Hermione’s gaze, showing a deep, unspoken yearning for belonging that he struggled to express.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ628ojXUoNq
Hermione studied Draco, detecting the loneliness beneath his guarded words and gestures. She felt a pang of empathy as she realised that, behind his bluster, Draco genuinely struggled with a sense of displacement in a world that no longer valued old allegiances and reputations. Hermione nervously fidgeted with her hands in her lap, tracing slow circles in her robes while she searched for words to comfort him. ‘I can only imagine how uncomfortable you must feel,’ she whispered, lowering her eyes to her hands in humility, hoping to demonstrate understanding and compassion without overstepping the fragile openness Draco had shown.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7wFP5QS0ON
Draco furrowed his brow and looked at her, remaining silent yet alert as he waited for her to continue. He crossed his arms loosely in a cautious pose, but his blue eyes showed a spark of curiosity, revealing a tentative willingness to listen. Hermione took a moment to collect her thoughts, her breath catching as she became acutely aware of the complicated history between them—a tapestry of resentment woven over years at Hogwarts. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡepn24yST53
Hermione’s words tumbled out as if she might lose her nerve if she paused, ‘I know a lot has happened before, but I think our best move now is to call a truce. We might not become friends, but at least we can watch each other’s backs. We can’t predict what lies ahead on this journey, but it will be easier if there’s no bad blood between us.’ As she spoke, she looked down at the ground, avoiding Draco’s intense stare. A warm blush spread across her cheeks and up to her ears, and she fidgeted with the edge of her robes, her anxiety clear as she made such a vulnerable offer.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnaluKasPm0
Draco frowned more deeply as he reflected on Hermione’s suggestion. He understood her reasoning and had already considered the idea himself—declaring a truce might ease their journey. However, he doubted they could easily put the past behind them. The weight of his previous deeds pressed upon him, and his conscience felt burdened as memories of harsh words and bitter clashes with Hermione and Harry flashed through his mind—reminders of moments he wished he could change. He felt unworthy of forgiveness; he recognised how unpleasant, even cruel, he had been to Hermione and Harry for as long as he could remember. Guilt gnawed at him, tightening his chest and making him struggle to meet Hermione’s eyes. An internal conflict raged within him: he hoped for a new beginning, yet remained sceptical that old wounds could truly heal.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuEf7f3ZSTz
Draco paused, then exhaled tiredly. ‘A truce, huh?’ he repeated, letting the words roll hesitantly off his tongue as if testing their weight. He searched Hermione’s face with his blue eyes, looking for any hint of mockery or hidden intent. Hermione kept her features open and sincere, observing him to understand the flicker of emotion behind his guarded expression—uneasy scepticism and reluctant hope. At last, Draco gave a slight, almost hesitant nod, the movement so subtle it could have gone unnoticed. ‘I suppose it might make things simpler,’ he said slowly, his voice soft and revealing more vulnerability than he intended. He lowered his arms, acknowledging the sense in Hermione’s suggestion and showing a quiet willingness to set aside their tangled history, if only for now.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT5lS0sLs3u
Hermione gave a gentle smile and answered, ‘Good.’ Her voice, smooth and sincere, carried a slight tremor that revealed just how much Draco’s acceptance of the truce meant to her.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrjMjYY7eEb
Hermione and Draco lapsed into silence again, but this time comfort replaced tension between them. Hermione felt a quiet surprise at the evening’s turn; she hadn’t thought she could persuade Draco to a truce at first. In the calm that followed, she found herself reflecting on Draco’s quiet intelligence—how attentively he listened, his eyes thoughtful as he weighed her words. She realised that he must have carefully considered her suggestion before agreeing, his mind always precise even in emotionally charged moments. Watching Draco relax reassured Hermione. Their tentative peace no longer appeared fragile, but rather a deliberate step towards cooperation; in moments like this, they actively chose to build trust, new and uncertain as it was.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpMpU3bCxLv
Hermione shifted her gaze back to Legolas, who stood quietly at the edge of the clearing, his presence steady and unwavering. Hermione moved herself closer to the fire, seeking its warmth and a clearer view of Legolas’s enigmatic figure as she whispered, ‘I wonder what he’s thinking about…’ Her voice, gentle and almost reverent, suggested she didn’t wish to intrude upon the Elf’s meditation. Although she spoke mainly for her own benefit rather than Draco’s, it exposed her curiosity about the reserved Elf.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbE98lb5QaM
Legolas watched intently, his posture alert as he guarded the area. He stood firm and poised at the edge of the clearing. He carefully surveyed the perimeter with a sharp gaze, keeping every muscle subtly tense and ready to react at a moment’s notice. He rested one hand lightly on the hilt of his slender knife, while he kept the other relaxed but alert, displaying the calm readiness of an experienced warrior who never fully relaxes. Hermione sensed that, among everyone present, Legolas would remain until the end—a silent watchman who would not leave his post until danger had passed. By standing slightly apart from the others in his solitary stance, he acted as both protector and observer, distinguishing himself from those gathered around the dying fire. As others relaxed and their laughter faded into the evening hush, Legolas remained a lone figure—steadfast, mysterious, and quietly formidable—his presence a steady reassurance against whatever unknown dangers might lurk beyond the clearing.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoPBef7mTEs
Draco grew more curious as he scanned the dim glade for the person Hermione had mentioned. ‘Who?’ he inquired, his gaze darting through the flickering shadows from the dying fire, inspecting the edge of the clearing with suspicion and curiosity.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3kNmuK6Wg3
Hermione directed her gaze toward the edge of the clearing again, focusing on the lone figure who stood apart from them. ‘Legolas,’ she said softly, signalling towards the alert Elf. Her tone remained restrained but revealed her recognition—she had clearly observed Legolas’s quiet vigilance and found his reserved demeanour intriguing.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVz6qd4UwnQ
Draco narrowed his eyes and peered into the darkness. ‘I thought everyone else had gone,’ he said softly, tilting his head in confusion, his voice lowered so as not to disturb the quiet.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRZDTg2Hbtj
Hermione furrowed her brow in thought. ‘He seems very reserved. All the other Elves we’ve met have been cheerful and easy-going, but he’s different,’ she observed, looking down at her hands as she pondered their contrasting attitudes. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡprVV32H9fO
She fixed her gaze on Legolas, closely observing the subtle hints of his demeanour—the way he chose to keep to himself, maintained a stiff but composed posture, and kept his face calm while his eyes remained constantly alert. While the others laughed freely, animated gestures and voices filling the night air, Legolas remained unaffected by their joy, radiating a quiet strength that set him apart. He stood with a seriousness, as though he carried secret burdens or duties that others didn’t share. The slight tension in his jaw, the stillness of his movements, and the intense focus in his eyes all pointed to deep experience, making him cautious and perhaps a little distant. Hermione found herself both intrigued and uneasy about his quietness, sensing that behind his silence, he hid many stories and feelings he chose not to reveal. He deliberately chose silence, using it as an invisible shield to protect himself and the others. Even when he offered a rare, subdued smile, he treated it seriously, granting himself only brief moments of joy and never truly indulging. Hermione grew increasingly intrigued by this difference, and she began to speculate about the burdens Legolas carried that made levity feel like a luxury he could not permit himself. She considered whether his seriousness arose from past sorrows, noble responsibilities, or years spent defending his people from hidden dangers. Perhaps every joyful moment with his kin only emphasised the constant vigilance required to preserve peace. While the other Elves delighted in camaraderie and playful exchanges, Legolas’s reserve openly displayed his deep sense of duty. To Hermione, this sense of duty rendered him both mysterious and admirable.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKbC3oOIkYY
Draco raised his eyebrows, a playful sparkle lighting up his blue eyes. ‘How perceptive of you. Do you often analyse people you’ve just met?’ he asked, his tone brimming with mock admiration and delight. Leaning forward with a smirk, Draco watched Hermione glare at him, her eyes narrowed and posture defensive. Unfazed, he continued to enjoy the banter, wearing a self-satisfied grin as he relished sparring with her intellect.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNh2zucF6R7
Hermione shook her head, furrowing her brow in genuine confusion. ‘No, I don’t,’ she replied in surprise, a blush appearing on her cheeks. She fixed Draco with an intent look, searching his expression for any sign of curiosity or hidden interest. ‘But aren’t you even slightly curious about the people we’ve met?’ Hermione asked softly but incredulously, as if she found his apparent indifference almost impossible to believe. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjMagKayUgd
Hermione was always fascinated by the lives and stories of those they encountered, constantly analysing every gesture and word. The possibility that Draco might be indifferent—letting people pass without a second thought—struck her as completely strange, stunning her momentarily. She wondered if he deliberately used this detachment as a shield to keep others at a distance. Meanwhile, her own instinctive drive to observe and contemplate the complexities of those around her left her unable to stop seeking understanding.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡl572VmrQUP
Draco shrugged nonchalantly, rolling his shoulders in a slow, deliberate motion to feign indifference. ‘Yes, I guess I am a little curious,’ he finally admitted, allowing a hesitant honesty to shade his words and reveal more than he intended. He softened his voice, letting it lose the earlier bluster, and for a brief moment, genuine interest flickered in his blue eyes. ‘However, I make a point of not being blatantly obvious about it,’ he added, rolling his eyes, and masking his admission by maintaining a detached attitude. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he fought back a smirk, betraying a subtle amusement at his own evasiveness. Draco’s reply revealed the layers beneath his guarded exterior: while Hermione boldly and openly expressed her curiosity, he chose to observe quietly from the sidelines, gathering details and forming conclusions without seeking conversation. In these small gestures—his deliberate restraint and careful composure—Draco demonstrated his respectful approach to others. He kept his curiosity close, always present but discreet, preferring to observe rather than to share, a sharp contrast to Hermione’s sincere desire to understand and connect.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCmvxK5at2v
Hermione huffed sharply and crossed her arms tightly, stiffening her posture with irritation and embarrassment. ‘Forget I asked,’ she snapped, her voice carrying a defensive edge that barely concealed the sting from Draco’s teasing. A faint flush coloured her cheeks, caused not only by the warmth of the fire but also by the awkward vulnerability she felt from having her curiosity so openly called out. She set her shoulders back and pressed her lips into a firm line, making it clear she wanted to protect herself—from Draco’s words and from the discomfort of revealing her curiosity.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSE6J8h22W8
Draco widened his smirk, flashing a mischievous grin. ‘Consider it forgotten,’ he said as Hermione’s glare grew more intense. He leaned back slightly and crossed his arms loosely, clearly relishing how his teasing provoked a reaction. 47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYMdIX5wje3
Draco paused briefly before he tired of the conversation. ‘Anyway, I’ve had enough for tonight. See you tomorrow, Granger,’ he said casually, signalling the end of their talk. He gave Hermione a final, lingering look—frustration and reluctant amusement in his expression—then stood up. Then Draco set his shoulders with determination, turned, and walked away. His footsteps softly crunched over the fallen leaves and bracken, and the sound gradually faded into the deep silence of the night and the thick undergrowth, leaving only silence to mark his quiet departure from the circle of warmth and light.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ88ojIHIe0M
Hermione watched Draco until he disappeared behind the tall garden hedges, hesitating briefly as she followed his departure. His leaving quietened the clearing, and their cheerful conversation gradually faded into the night. The deeper silence settled, interrupted only by the occasional crackle of burning wood and a distant nightbird’s call. She looked toward the edge of the gathering and peered into the dark shadows where Legolas kept watch. The thick darkness hid the area, and she no longer saw the Elf amid the shifting outlines of the trees. The moon’s faint glow struggled to pierce the tangled branches, casting the undergrowth in flickering patterns of silver and black. Wisps of lingering mist curled around the roots and trunks and further concealed any sign of movement, making Legolas seem as if he melted into the forest itself. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and moss, which intensified the feeling of mystery and solitude. Hermione strained her eyes to spot any sign of the Elf’s presence, but the woods offered only silence and shadow, swallowing all evidence that he had ever been there.47Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNuVeXbxpWN
Still, she sensed his eyes fixed intently on her, their silent stare unwavering despite the distance and darkness. His presence seemed to hover just beyond her awareness—unseen yet tangible—a quiet, constant force pressing from the shadows. A faint shiver ran down her spine as the weight of his unseen watchfulness unsettled her in a way she couldn’t quite identify. The surrounding air grew tense; every sound of the night sharpened under the pressure of that silent gaze. As the firelight faded and night deepened, Hermione focused on the mysterious Elf, unable to dispel the subtle tension threading through her solitude. She imagined his sharp eyes catching the faint lunar glow, constantly vigilant and searching. Knowing he might watch her from some hidden vantage, silent and inscrutable, made the woods feel at once safe and unsettling. Even as silence settled, his watchfulness seemed to cling to her like a shadow, leaving her both comforted and uneasy while she sat alone by the dying fire.
A/N: Well? Good? Bad? Amazing? Dreadful?
In all honesty, one thing I want to point out is the mention of Oropher, Legolas’s grandfather. Some of you may wonder why Kérishiéra did not just settle with him instead of Thranduil, considering she is much older than the Elvenking we all know and love. For those who have read the original, you may remember the Elven curse. For those who have never read this before, this curse will be explained later in the story.
I also have absolutely no idea if Oropher was even one of the original Elves who came to Middle-earth, so it’s unlikely canon. When I read his backstory, there was no mention of what he was doing before he travelled to Greenwood the Great with Thranduil. There’s not even any mention of when he came into being or who his ancestors are… so it just happened.
Either way, I hope you all enjoyed this new version of the campfire scene as much as I enjoyed writing it xD I tried to be as careful as possible about giving away anything about Draco, Hermione, and Harry coming from the future, but if I did miss something, please let me know so I can fix it!
Please leave me a review/comment to let me know what you thought of it! I love your feedback!
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