ITS HERE!
The pale light of dawn filtered through the thin wooden slats of Bard’s modest home, painting soft golden streaks across the rough-hewn walls. The house was quiet, save for the faint creak of the floorboards as Harry moved silently, his movements deliberate and careful. He had been awake long before the others, watching over them as they slept.
He glanced down at the bunny cradled in his arms, its small, warm body twitching faintly as it dreamed. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Harry gently stroked its fur, his fingers brushing through the soft tufts with the same tenderness he had once reserved for his long-lost family.
The faint stirring of Bilbo beside him caught his attention. Bilbo shifted, yawning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. When his gaze fell on Harry, he smiled softly, a look that always managed to ease the weight pressing on Harry’s chest.
“Morning, lad,” Bilbo murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
“Morning, Bilbo,” Harry replied, his tone warm but tinged with a quiet melancholy.
Bilbo’s gaze dropped to the bunny, and he chuckled. “Still holding onto that little thing, are you? I swear you love it more than me.”
Harry smirked faintly, brushing a thumb over the bunny’s soft ear. “Maybe. But I think it’s earned the attachment.” He paused, his expression turning distant for a moment. “Don’t worry Bilbo, I won’t replace you.”
Before Bilbo could respond, a soft knock came at the door. Bard’s voice filtered through. “Time to rise. If you want to leave unnoticed, we’ll need to move before the town wakes fully.”
The dwarves began to stir, grumbling and stretching as they slowly roused from sleep. Thorin was the first to rise, his sharp gaze darting around the room as if assessing for threats.
“We’ll need to be swift,” Thorin said, his voice low but commanding. “Lake-town may have turned a blind eye to our presence for now, but the wrong eyes could change that in an instant.”
Bard opened the door just wide enough to step inside, his expression grim. “I’ve secured a quiet route out of the town. You’ll need to move quickly and stay together.”
Harry stood, his presence commanding without effort. “I’ll prepare what we need,” he said, his voice calm but resolute. He handed the bunny to Bilbo with a gentle smile. “Keep an eye on this little one for me?”
Bilbo accepted the small creature, his fingers brushing Harry’s for a brief moment. “Of course,” he replied, his voice soft but concerned. “Don’t push yourself, Harry.”
Harry offered no reply, simply giving Bilbo a reassuring look before turning to the others. His magic flowed through him easily, almost effortlessly, though the toll it took on him was not always so kind. As the surrounding air shimmered faintly with emerald light, the group watched in awe as supplies appeared, carefully packed and ready for travel. He waved a hand, mending a tear in Fili’s coat and reinforcing the stitching on Kili’s pack.
Tilda, who had slipped into the room unnoticed, stood wide-eyed at the display. When Harry noticed her, he smiled softly, crouching down to meet her gaze.
“Would you like to hold her?” Harry asked, nodding to the bunny now resting in Bilbo’s lap.
Her face lit up, and she nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”
Bilbo chuckled, handing the bunny to her with care. “Be gentle, Tilda. She’s quite the treasure.”
The girl cradled the bunny carefully, her small fingers brushing its fur. “She’s so soft… and warm,” she whispered, her voice filled with wonder.
Harry watched her with a tender expression before speaking, his voice gentle but firm. “Tilda, you’re holding something very special. Take good care of her, won’t you?”
She nodded solemnly. “I will, I promise.”
The sight of Tilda holding the bunny sparked a flicker of hope in Harry’s heart, but an undercurrent of something darker… acceptance accompanied it. He knew, deep down, that the road ahead was fraught with danger, and the thought of losing any of them, Bilbo, the dwarves, even Bard’s children, was unbearable. If it came down to it, he would do whatever was necessary to protect them, even if it meant sacrificing himself.
As they finished their preparations, Bard pulled Harry aside, his expression serious. “You’re a strange one,” Bard said, his voice low. “I don’t know what’s driving you, but there’s a weight to you… like a man carrying the world on his shoulders.”
Harry met Bard’s gaze; his green eyes calm but filled with an ancient sadness. “Sometimes the weight isn’t a choice,” he replied quietly. “Sometimes it’s just… what has to be done.”
Bard frowned but nodded, sensing there was no use pressing further. “Whatever burden you’re carrying, just be sure it doesn’t break you. The people with you… they’ll need you.”
Harry’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but his eyes betrayed an ancient sorrow. He gave Bard a nod of acknowledgment before turning away. His gaze landed on Tilda, who was cradling the bunny protectively in her small arms, her face glowing with the pure adoration only a child could muster. The sight softened Harry’s features, and he walked over to her, his boots barely making a sound on the worn floorboards.
“May I?” he asked gently, holding out his hands toward the bunny.
Tilda clutched the soft creature tighter, her eyes widening with hesitation. “But… she likes me,” Tilda said softly, her tone almost pleading.
Harry crouched down, so that he was eye level with her, his expression warm and understanding. “How about this?” he said, his voice as soothing as a lullaby. “I’ll take her to the Misty Mountains for now. She’ll keep me company on the journey. And while I do that, you can think of the perfect name for her. Then you can come visit us and tell me her name yourself. How does that sound?”
Tilda’s brows furrowed as she considered the offer, her tiny hands stroking the bunny’s fur. “I can visit?”
“Of course,” Harry assured her with a soft smile. “The Misty Mountains aren’t going anywhere, and neither am I. You’ll always have a place to come and visit, Tilda.”
The child studied his face, her reluctance slowly melting into a shy smile. Finally, she nodded and carefully handed the bunny back to Harry. “Okay. But you have to promise to keep her safe.”
“I promise,” Harry said solemnly, cradling the bunny with a reverence that bordered on sacred. His green eyes, so often clouded with weariness, shone briefly with something gentler. “She’ll be as safe as all of you are to me.”
Bilbo, who had been watching from the side, chuckled softly. “You’ve a way with children, you know.”
Harry glanced at him, his expression softening even further. “They deserve better than the world gives them sometimes,” he murmured. “And if I can give them even a small piece of comfort, I will.”
As he stood, the bunny nestled against his chest, a quiet reverence fell over the room. It wasn’t just Tilda who watched him with awe; the dwarves, Bard, and even Bilbo seemed to feel the weight of the moment. Harry had made the bunny during one of his darkest hours, its creation a desperate act to anchor himself when his mind had fractured. Yet now, the simple creature had become something so much more, a symbol of hope, comfort, and even worship to those who had heard the tale.
As Harry carried the bunny toward the door, Tilda called out, “Don’t forget! I’ll come up with the best name ever!”
Harry turned back, a rare twinkle in his eyes. “I’m counting on you, Tilda.”
Bilbo stepped closer, his hand brushing Harry’s arm as they walked out together. “You didn’t have to promise her a visit,” he murmured, his tone quiet but tinged with fondness.
“I know,” Harry replied, his gaze fixed ahead. “But I wanted to. Sometimes... promises like that are the only thing keeping someone going.”
Bilbo studied him for a moment, a flicker of worry crossing his face. “Harry,” he said softly, “you’re carrying too much on your shoulders.”
Harry gave him a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I’ll carry it as long as I have to.”
And as they stepped out into the crisp morning air, Harry clutched the bunny a little closer, his silent vow to protect them all burning brighter than ever, no matter the cost.
Bilbo watched Harry closely, a sense of unease gnawing at him from the pit of his stomach. As they moved through the quiet paths away from Lake-town, weaving through shadows and the damp earth, it was clear that Harry carried more than just their supplies and responsibilities. He carried a burden that seemed to grow heavier with every step.
There was something about the way Harry walked, his shoulders slightly hunched as though the weight of the world rested on them, though his face remained the same, calm, distant, perhaps even resigned. But Bilbo could see the cracks.
“You’re sure this is the safest route?” Bilbo asked Bard, trying to distract himself from the feeling gnawing at him. His mind kept circling back to Harry, and the way he held the bunny like a lifeline, as if it were the only thing left to him in a world that might tear him apart at any moment.
Bard’s eyes flickered to the shadows ahead. “As safe as I can make it. We’ve got a head start on anyone who might come looking for you. The paths through the mountains are a maze. It’s not perfect, but it will do.”
Bilbo nodded, grateful for Bard’s help. The journey from Lake-town to the mountains had to remain secret; there were too many who might not look favourably on Harry’s presence, let alone that of a hobbit. Bilbo knew they were running out of time.
As they moved farther into the wilderness, the air grew colder, and the mountains loomed ahead, their peaks hidden by the dense mist. The silence of the morning was oppressive, as though the very earth was holding its breath.
Harry’s eyes darted around, ever watchful, but he seemed more at ease now, in this rugged terrain where few could follow. Yet there was a weariness in his step that didn’t belong to someone who appeared no older than twenty-five. To Bilbo, it felt like he was walking beside someone who had lived for centuries, someone who had seen too much, done too much, and had learned to carry the scars silently.
Bard led them down a narrow path, brushing past low-hanging branches, his movements silent and fluid. The wind howled through the trees as they made their way closer to the mountains.
Bilbo kept pace with Harry, glancing at him occasionally. Harry’s green eyes were distant, and though his face remained calm, Bilbo could sense the heaviness in the way he held himself. He was a far cry from the young boy Bilbo had found on the road, frightened and unsure.
“Harry,” Bilbo said quietly, his voice filled with concern. “You don’t have to carry this all alone, you know.”
Harry’s steps faltered just a fraction, but he didn’t stop. His eyes flicked toward Bilbo, and for a moment, the weight of his gaze was enough to make Bilbo’s breath catch in his throat. It was a gaze that spoke of countless lifetimes, of pain too deep to share.
“I’m not alone, Bilbo,” Harry said softly, his voice low and steady. “I have you. I have Thorin, and I have… all of you.”
Bilbo’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. “That’s not what I mean, lad. You don’t have to carry everything yourself. Not now. Not anymore.”
Harry’s lips quirked into a brief smile, but it was strained. “There’s no other way, Bilbo.”
The words hung between them, and for a moment, Bilbo thought Harry might say more, might explain just what it was that weighed him down. But Harry turned his gaze back to the path ahead.
Bilbo’s gaze shifted to the bunny nestled in Harry’s arms. It had become a symbol of their journey, something that tied them all together, a small, delicate thread of hope in a world that had long since lost its innocence.
The crunch of the gravel beneath their boots was the only sound that accompanied them as they walked, the quiet stretching into the distance. Bilbo’s thoughts swirled, worry for Harry mixing with the growing fear that he would lose him before their journey was done.
Harry, for all his strength and resolve, was still a mystery, one that Bilbo couldn’t seem to unravel. He knew, deep down, that there was something Harry wasn’t saying, something far darker than the weight of their journey together. It was as though Harry had already resigned himself to a fate that even the stars couldn’t change.
He could feel it now, the same way the air before a storm grows still and heavy. There was something in Harry’s aura that made Bilbo uneasy, something that whispered of a sacrifice yet to come.
Finally, as they drew closer to the mountains, Bilbo could no longer ignore the feeling that had been creeping up on him. “Harry, promise me you’ll be careful,” Bilbo said quietly, his voice tinged with the kind of emotion he had never allowed himself to express before. “Promise me you won’t carry the world on your shoulders alone.”
Harry’s expression softened, but there was something in his eyes that made Bilbo’s heart ache. For a moment, the mask slipped, and Bilbo saw the truth there. Harry had already made a decision. He had already accepted that his path might be one that led him into darkness, perhaps even to the end of the line.
As the company made their way toward the hidden door in the mountains, the journey grew more arduous with each passing day. The sharp, cold winds cut through their cloaks, and the sound of their footsteps echoed in the silence of the mountains. The air felt thin and crisp, and the vast expanse of stone and snow stretched out before them in an endless, daunting vista. Yet, despite the hardships, there was a strange sense of camaraderie among them. They had all come together for a common goal, but there was something unspoken between Harry and the rest of the group that made the journey feel a little less heavy.
Harry, ever the quiet force in their midst, walked with Thorin. Thorin was a man of few words, but for Harry, there was an easy rapport between them. It was clear to anyone with half an eye that Thorin held a quiet admiration for Harry, though he kept it hidden beneath layers of stubbornness and pride.
“How’s the bunny holding up?” Thorin asked as they walked side by side, his tone gruff but with a touch of warmth.
Harry glanced down at the soft, pink creature tucked in the folds of his cloak. The bunny, a creation of his own hands, was almost like a security blanket, providing him with comfort during moments of anxiety or fear. The little creature had become a kind of symbol of hope for the group. It wasn’t just an animal; it had become part of Harry’s identity, a reminder of the fragile, beautiful part of him that not many got to see.
“She’s doing fine,” Harry replied, his voice low but fond. He stroked the bunny’s soft fur gently, the action grounding him at the moment. “Better than some of us, I’d wager.”
Thorin let out a soft chuckle, though the harsh wind quickly swallowed it. “Aye, she’s a wonderful creature.”
The rest of the company trudged ahead, their own conversations spilling into the icy air. Dwalin, who had been eyeing Harry with suspicion since the beginning of the journey, gave a nervous glance at the magic Harry wielded. He didn’t like it, not one bit, and his discomfort was palpable.
“Are ye sure that magic won’t… I don’t know… explode or something?” Dwalin asked, his voice laced with humor, though there was a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes.
Harry, sensing the hesitation, flashed a reassuring grin. “If it explodes, you’ll be the first to know, Dwalin. I’ll make sure of that.”
Dwalin flinched, his hand instinctively moving to his axe, but he was more embarrassed than frightened. “Right. Just… keep yer magic in check, lad. Don’t want any of it… backfiring.”
Harry raised an eyebrow at him, but before he could respond, Fili and Kili, the two younger dwarves who were often inseparable, chimed in. They were always quick with a jest, and their banter lightened the mood as they approached the mountain’s base.
“Exploding magic, eh?” Kili grinned, nudging his brother. “Maybe we could sell tickets to the show. Dwarves love a good explosion, especially when it’s not their own skin being blown off.”
“Right, right,” Fili added with a laugh. “Could be the best entertainment we’ve had in days. Just make sure it’s not the bunny that goes first. We couldn’t bear to lose her.”
Harry grinned at the teasing. His mood lightened for a moment. “Don’t worry,” he replied, his voice more teasing than serious, “the Bunny’s made of tougher stuff than you think.”
Oín, who had been trailing behind them, overheard the conversation and gave a soft chuckle. “I’ll make sure no one loses any parts, thank you very much. And if I may say please help, your unconscious ability to heal is very helpful. I may be a skilled dwarf healer, but I’d rather not be testing new methods of healing on this trip.”
Harry smiled warmly at Oín, his affection for the older dwarf apparent. “You know I’m happy to help, Oín,” he said, falling into their usual rhythm of talking shop. After all the lessons, I’ve learned a lot from you. You’ve been an enormous help.”
Oín grunted in acknowledgment, though the faint smile on his face said more than his words. “Just make sure you don’t overdo it, lad. You’re not invincible, no matter how much you might think you are.”
Harry’s expression softened, but his eyes were distant as he looked up at the looming peaks ahead. “None of us are invincible,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.
Bilbo, walking a little behind them, caught the tail end of the conversation and couldn’t help but feel his heart tighten. He had never seen Harry so sombre before, not in the way he had been lately. The weight of something heavy hung over him, something Bilbo could sense but couldn’t name. It was like a shadow, darkening the edges of Harry’s every word and every gesture.
As they continued on, the company’s conversations bounced between lighter topics, memories of past adventures, funny tales of battles fought and won, and discussions about the best food in the world (which was always dwarven cooking, of course). But underneath it all, Bilbo couldn’t shake the nagging thought that Harry was walking a path he might not return from. The weight of it settled like a stone in his stomach, and every time Harry smiled, it seemed a little more fragile.
“Harry,” Bilbo said quietly, drawing the young man’s attention. “You’re sure you don’t need anything? More food? A rest?”
Harry shook his head, though there was a weariness in his eyes. “I’m fine, Bilbo. Just tired.”
“You always say that,” Bilbo replied, voice laced with concern. “But I know you too well. You don’t look fine.”
Harry smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m alright. Don’t worry about me.”
Bilbo opened his mouth to argue, but Thorin’s voice cut through the conversation.
“We’re close now,” Thorin said, his tone decisive. “The door should be near. Stay sharp, everyone.”
The mention of the hidden door brought a renewed focus to the group, and they quickened their pace. Just ahead, hidden within the stone as it had been for centuries, the entrance to the secret door was located beneath the looming mountain. The company, despite their bickering and teasing, fell into a sombre silence as they approached the last leg of their journey.
The mountain loomed overhead, its cold, grey stone face towering above them like a silent sentinel. The hidden door, the one that would lead them to the treasure they had travelled so far to find, was close, just around the corner, in the cleft of the stone that only Thorin knew well. But as they approached, an unsettling quiet descended over the group, as if the mountain itself were holding its breath.
The dwarves moved with a familiar rhythm, their steps confident despite the weariness of the journey. Yet, for all their confidence, there was a tension in the air, a sense that something, something important, was about to shift.
Harry stood near the back of the group, the bunny tucked securely in the folds of his cloak. Despite the chilly winds whipping through the air, he cradled the stuffed creature with a tenderness that betrayed the gravity of what he was carrying, not just the bunny, but the silent burden that had been growing heavier with each passing day.
Bilbo, who had been walking at Harry’s side, glimpsed his expression as he glanced down at the little bunny. Harry’s eyes were distant, almost… sad. The weight on his shoulders was heavier than any of them realized, and Bilbo’s heart twisted at the thought that Harry might be carrying it alone. If only he would let me in, Bilbo thought, the words unspoken between them. If only he would share that burden.
“Is it here?” Kili asked, his voice breaking the silence, his eyes scanning the jagged rock formations ahead.
Thorin nodded, his gaze fixed ahead, as if he were in tune with the very mountain itself. “It’s close. Stay alert.”
As they neared the door, Harry stepped forward, the soft weight of the bunny in his hands grounding him amidst the uncertainty. He moved beside Thorin, offering a small smile, but it was strained, too strained. The kind of smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes, but still tried, as if trying to assure those around him that everything was fine. But Thorin, ever perceptive, caught the edge of the weariness in Harry’s posture, and the faint frown tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You’re sure you’re alright, lad?” Thorin’s voice was low, a murmur almost drowned out by the wind, but Harry heard it clearly.
“Just tired,” Harry replied, his voice steady, but the faintest tremor underneath betrayed him. “Nothing I can’t handle.” His words were almost a mantra, one he repeated to himself just as much as he did to Thorin.
Thorin watched him for a moment longer, but when Harry turned his attention back to the door, he seemed to accept the answer, for now. He led the group forward, moving to a spot on the stone where a narrow crack in the rock stood.
“This is it,” Thorin said, the gravity of the moment settling over them. “The door to Erebor.”
The dwarves immediately set to work, checking the ancient runes carved into the stone. Dwalin’s hands moved over the markings with precision, murmuring under his breath as he traced the symbols. The air around them felt thick, as if even the mountain were waiting for something.
“It’s almost time,” Oín muttered, looking up from his inspection of the stone door. “Let’s get ready. The door won’t open itself.”
As the group prepared, Bilbo couldn’t shake the feeling that something, something more than just the treasure, was waiting behind the door. It wasn’t just the treasure that they were about to uncover, but something darker, something that would test them all.
But it wasn’t just the door that worried him. It was Harry.
“I’ll be fine, Bilbo,” Harry’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Bilbo looked at him sharply, surprised at the words, though Harry had said them with the same quiet certainty he always used.
But Bilbo’s heart didn’t quiet. “Harry…” he whispered, but Harry didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he gently shifted the bunny in his arms, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow, as if the stuffed animal itself was holding a kind of fragile peace in the midst of the growing tension.
“I’ll be alright,” Harry repeated, though it was clear that his thoughts were elsewhere. His voice dropped lower, barely a whisper. “Just need to get through this. For everyone.”
Bilbo opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the door began to move, the ancient stone creaking as it slowly parted. The sound was like a groan from the very heart of the mountain, and the company fell silent. Even Harry seemed to hold his breath, though he stepped forward, his hand still clutching the bunny.
As the door crept open, revealing the dark cavern beyond, the dwarves’ eyes gleamed with hope. The treasure was within their reach. They had come this far. But for Bilbo, the weight in his chest didn’t lessen; it only grew. There was something darker waiting for them, and Harry was more entwined in it than anyone realized.
“Are you ready?” Thorin asked, looking at the group, his voice a low rumble. He glanced at Harry, his gaze lingering, though it was hard to tell if he was looking at the door or at the young man beside him.
“I am,” Harry replied, voice steady, though it was clear from the slight tremor in his hand as he adjusted the bunny against his chest that he wasn’t entirely certain.
They moved forward into the dark, and Bilbo’s unease grew with every step. He couldn’t shake the thought that Harry’s smile had been the final mask he’d put on before the storm. The weight of something terrible, something final, was hanging in the air, and Harry… Harry might be willing to bear it all, no matter the cost.
Bilbo couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t.
But for now, there was nothing more to be done but follow, as the company ventured deeper into the mountain and towards whatever fate awaited them inside.
The air inside the mountain was thick with the scent of ancient stone and dust. The flickering torchlight cast long, wavering shadows on the walls, making the cavern feel as though it were alive, watching, waiting. Bilbo couldn’t shake the feeling that the mountain itself had been holding its breath, and now, with the door open, the very earth seemed to exhale, settling into an ominous stillness.
The company pressed on, their footsteps echoing in the quiet, their nerves taut with anticipation. The treasure they had sought for so long was just ahead, but for Bilbo, the weight on his heart grew heavier with every step.
Harry, despite his outward calm, was silent beside him. The bunny, that beloved magic made animal, had not left his side, though he had barely looked at it in the past few hours. Instead, Harry looked straight ahead, with a distant expression, as if he were already somewhere else entirely. It was hard for Bilbo not to worry. Harry had always been the one to offer comfort, the one to lighten the mood, and yet now, he seemed lost, a shadow of his former self.
“Thorin,” Bilbo said quietly, his voice carrying just enough to reach the dwarf king ahead of him. “We need to be careful. The mountain… it feels strange.”
Thorin glanced back at him, his brow furrowed, but he nodded. “I know, Bilbo. I’ve been in these halls before, and something’s different. Something’s wrong.”
It was true. There was an unease in the air that none of them could shake. Every sound echoed loudly, and each footstep served as a reminder of the danger that lay ahead. Even Dwarlin, who had been known to be sceptical of magic, kept glancing over his shoulder, as if expecting something to jump out of the shadows. He muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, “I don’t like it, not one bit. Magic and mountains don’t mix.”
Harry’s voice, soft, reached Bilbo’s ears before he could respond. “Don’t worry about it, Dwarlin. The mountain has always been alive. You just have to learn to listen.”
Dwarlin shot him a sideways glance, his face scrunched in mild discomfort. “Aye, well, I’d rather not listen too closely.”
The group chuckled lightly at his expense; the tension easing just slightly. But Bilbo noticed the way Harry’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Even as he joked with the dwarves, there was something more in his expression, a quiet, almost resigned acceptance, as if he had already made up his mind about something. Bilbo didn’t know what it was, but he feared it had something to do with the way Harry had been holding the bunny all this time. The comfort it had once provided now seemed like a crutch, something Harry held onto because he had no choice but to carry on.
They moved deeper into the mountain, winding through narrow passages and vast, echoing halls. The treasure hoards loomed in the distance, glimmering faintly in the torchlight, but it was the last chamber that held their attention. The great hall, the heart of Erebor, awaited them.
As they rounded the corner into the wide expanse of the hall, the sight before them was awe-inspiring. The hoard of gold and jewels glittered like a sea of stars beneath the dim light. The dragon’s hoard, Smaug’s legacy, spread out before them, untouched for so long. Yet, despite the splendour of the treasure, Bilbo felt his stomach twist with unease. This was not the prize they had fought for, it was something else. Something darker.
“Here it is,” Thorin’s voice was low, reverent. “The treasure of Erebor.”
The dwarves crowded around, their eyes shining with longing, but Bilbo, Harry, and Thorin stood slightly apart. Harry’s hand was still clutching the bunny, though it was now more of a lifeline than a comfort. Bilbo caught the way Harry’s grip tightened around it, his knuckles white. His heart clenched, he could see the strain in Harry’s posture, the weight of the world pressing down on him even here, in the moment of triumph.
“It’s beautiful,” Kili murmured, his voice full of awe as he stepped forward to examine the treasure. “But something feels off. It’s too quiet.”
Balin, ever the voice of caution, nodded. “Aye, lad. Man or dwarf has not touched this hoard in years, but it feels wrong. It’s like it’s waiting for something.”
“It’s waiting for someone,” Bilbo murmured, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but it felt true. The mountain wasn’t just waiting for treasure, it was waiting for a sacrifice. And Harry, though he hadn’t said it, carried the weight of that sacrifice.
Harry glanced up at him at the sound of his voice, and their eyes met. There was a fleeting moment of understanding between them, one so brief that Bilbo almost missed it. Harry’s lips parted as if he were about to say something, but before he could, a deep rumble shook the ground beneath their feet. The mountain was alive again, and not with life, but with something darker, more ancient.
The ground trembled, and the surrounding shadows deepened, stretching as though reaching for something.
Thorin drew his sword, his posture tense. “Stay alert,” he ordered, his voice strong, but there was an edge of fear there that none of them had heard before. “This is no ordinary treasure.”
The air in the chamber grew colder still, a chilling wave that seemed to seep into Bilbo’s very bones. His gaze never left Harry as he took a step back, eyes locked onto the bunny in his hands, his expression sombre. It was as though Harry had made a decision, one that Bilbo didn’t fully understand but could feel in the pit of his stomach.
The bunny, ever the symbol of comfort, whimpered softly in Harry’s arms. Bilbo’s heart tightened as Harry, without another word, gently placed the bunny into his hands. The moment the bunny was passed to Bilbo, it whimpered again, as if it too sensed something amiss.
“Harry-!” Bilbo began to protest, but Harry didn’t look back.
With a brief, pained glance at Bilbo, Harry took off. His feet pounded against the stone floor, faster and faster, each step more resolute than the last.
“Harry!” Bilbo shouted again, but the words barely left his lips before the growing noise of the mountain drowned them out shaking violently. The tremors were now rhythmic, as though the heart of Erebor itself was beating, resonating with some ancient power.
Suddenly, a deep, low growl echoed throughout the chamber, reverberating through the walls, and the shadows twisted. Smaug, the great dragon, unfurled himself from the mountain of gold, his massive form emerging from the pile like a nightmare made of flesh. His eyes glowed an eerie, malevolent red, and the air seemed to crackle with the fire of his rage.
But Harry wasn’t frightened. Not this time. He ran straight toward the dragon, his face set in determination. The very essence of his being screamed with an urgency, and despite the danger, he reached out and grabbed Smaug’s great, scaly head, his fingers sinking into the creature’s rough hide.
“Smaug!” Harry shouted, his voice carrying an edge of pain. “Listen to me,” Harry yelled, “They’ve twisted you, corrupted you. This isn’t the real you!””
The dragon’s eyes snapped toward him, glowing with malice, yet there was something else, something deeper, hidden beneath the madness. Harry, his magic thrumming around him like a tidal wave, dug deeper into the dragon’s mind, seeking the poison that had corrupted it. He could feel the ancient dark magic, the necrotic force, eating away at Smaug’s soul, corrupting his thoughts, his very essence.
Without thinking twice, Harry reached into the abyss of that magic, pulling on the raw, destructive power that was slowly tearing the dragon apart. He gritted his teeth as his own magic flared, a desperate attempt to keep himself grounded, to keep alive the fragile thread of consciousness as the magic threatened to consume him.
And then, just as the dragon’s massive form shuddered beneath him, Harry heard it.
A voice.
“Let it kill you, Master,” it whispered in a sibilant tone, seductive and cold. The words hung in the air like a poisoned cloud, and for the briefest of moments, Harry faltered, his mind wracked with doubt.
He turned toward Bilbo, who had managed to make his way toward the entrance of the hall, eyes wide with terror and confusion. Bilbo’s pain contorted his face, his hands clutching the bunny to his chest as though he were trying to will Harry back, to stop him from walking further into the abyss.
Harry smiled faintly, his heart heavy with unspoken sorrow. For a split second, his gaze softened as he saw Bilbo, his baba, standing there, always so strong, always so caring. “It’s alright, Baba,” Harry whispered under his breath, though the words barely escaped him. “This is what I have to do.”
The weight of the decision settled on him as he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, feeling the pull of the darkness inside him. The voice was insistent, almost affectionate in its twisted nature, urging him to let go, to allow the pain to end, to surrender.
But Harry could feel the pressure building in his chest, the ache of too many years spent holding back, holding on, fighting for others, never for himself. And here, with the dragon before him, he was doing what he always did, sacrificing himself.
In that instant, as the dragon’s fire flickered and his mind twisted, Harry let the dark magic pull him under. He couldn’t fight it anymore, not now.
“Let it go, Master… let it consume you…” the voice whispered once more.
With a faint smile, Harry turned his gaze to Bilbo one last time. “I’ll be okay, Baba,” he said, though his words were distant. And then, in a final, selfless act of desperation, Harry allowed the magic to flow through him completely.
And then he knew no more.
Bilbo’s heart stopped when Harry’s figure collapsed to the ground, the last vestiges of the magic Harry had gathered slipping from him. For a moment, all was still, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
“No,” Bilbo whispered, rushing forward, his feet pounding against the stone. “No, Harry, please-!”
He reached Harry just as the last of the light seemed to fade from his eyes. The mountain’s tremors began to subside, but the loss of Harry, his Bairn, left a vast emptiness in the space they had once filled with laughter and hope.
Bilbo’s heart hammered in his chest as he sank to his knees beside Harry, his fingers trembling as he gently brushed a strand of hair from Harry’s forehead. The weight of the moment, the crushing sense of helplessness, threatened to swallow him whole. His breath came in ragged sobs, and he had to fight to steady his hand as he held the bunny against his chest, feeling the soft warmth of the creature. The loss of Harry, his Bairn, the one person who had come to mean so much to him, was a wound that would never truly heal.
“Please, Harry...” Bilbo whispered, his voice breaking. “Not like this. Not now.”
The air around them felt thick and suffocating, the mountain still trembling as though even Erebor itself mourned. But then, just as Bilbo’s grief seemed to consume him, the softest pulse of magic, faint but undeniable, radiated from Harry’s still form.
A flickering, weak glow of golden light began to swirl from Harry’s chest, like the last spark of life. Bilbo’s breath hitched in his throat as he leaned closer, his heart quickening. It was so subtle at first that he wondered if he had imagined it. But then the light pulsed again, stronger this time, and Bilbo’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Harry?” Bilbo’s voice was barely more than a whisper, fear and hope mixing in his words. “Are you-?”
Before he could finish, a deep, low rumble echoed across the cavern, and Smaug, still kneeling in confusion and guilt, raised his massive head. His fiery eyes flickered with an unfamiliar emotion, something that had not been present before, guilt. The great dragon looked down at Harry’s lifeless form, his gaze softening, his sharp features tightening in sadness.
“What have I done?” Smaug murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper that seemed to echo through the chamber. “He gave everything... for me…”
Bilbo’s heart ached as he watched the dragon struggle with his own remorse, the mighty beast who had caused so much destruction now humbled in the face of what Harry had done to save him. The air felt thick with unspoken words, but Bilbo couldn’t find the strength to speak to them. His eyes never left Harry’s chest, where the glow continued to flicker, now more pronounced.
Harry wasn’t gone. He refused to believe it.