Harry Potter: Mandos Shadow Society

Under the dense canopy, sunlight filtered, casting dappled patterns upon the forest floor. Birds sang, their melodies harmonizing with the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. Amidst this tranquil setting, a small figure lay surrounded by fallen trees and unrooted plants.

“Uff…”

Emerald eyes slowly blinked open. “Where-” Harry began, stopping as he heard his own voice. It was unfamiliar; soft and melodic. 

Attempting to sit up, he tumbled back down as his balance was off. “What?” 

Rolling over onto his back, he stared up at the sky. “What is going on?” 

Following a gut instinct, Harry held his hands in front of his face. They were smaller than he was used to. Delicate and without a single blemish. A stark contrast to the big and heavily calloused palms he was used to seeing.  

“What in Merlin's beard is going on here?”

Gently touching his own face, he felt the smooth skin beneath to crusts of dirt. Fingers gliding over chubby cheeks and up to his eyes. They were huge in comparison to the rest of his face. Like a child's. Feeling his way over to his ears, he froze. 

“What the?!"  Instead of the usual round edges, they now had a pointy tip.

Hastily scrambling to his feet, he toppled over. Cursing he stood up once more, careful to remain steady. After a few seconds he looked down on himself. His body was tiny. Bare as the day he was born and covered in whirled up dust, mud and leaves.

His hair was longer than he remembered. It went down to the middle of his back in soft black curls. Twigs sticking out of it in places The ground was far closer than normal as well. Scanning his surroundings he realised how truly massive everything else was in comparison to him. He would need to climb to get over some of those roots. Branches way too high up to even dream about reaching.

“Also…where am I?”

All he could see were huge trees and plants. Only a few recognizable to him. He himself stood in a clearing. Or rather a circle of fallen trees, dust and mud. 

Cautiously taking one step after the other, he listened. His hearing was better. Even the soft rustling of leaves sounded incredibly loud to him.

Captivated by the new experience, he wondered on. The untouched nature he was in, having an irresistible allure. His senses heightened, each moment unveiled new wonders: vibrant flowers, meandering streams, elusive creatures darting amidst the trees.

Soon he was too occupied by the surroundings to remember to panic. A distant part of him was highly alarmed by his unusual behaviour.

Drawn deeper into the forest, an ethereal melody beckoned Harry. Its haunting notes resonated with his soul, evoking feelings of nostalgia and intrigue. Guided by this enchanting tune, he navigated the intricate pathways, the forest seemingly coming alive with ancient whispers and tales untold.

Yet, as Harry immersed himself in the melody’s embrace, a subtle shift occurred. The playful whispers faded, replaced by an unsettling silence that unsettled him. Unaware of lurking shadows, his senses honed in on the melody's source, oblivious to the impending danger.

Suddenly, the harmonious melody shattered, replaced by discordant notes that echoed through the forest. Harry's instincts surged, his heart racing as he scanned the surroundings. Amidst the shadows, figures emerged, their presence emanating danger.

As they drew nearer, Harry's emerald eyes widened with terror, instincts from his time on the run kicking in. Dodging behind a massive tree trunk, his hands pressed to his mouth, muffling his breathing. His small frame shook from adrenaline.

There were five people in total. two small bearded ones, two average sized and one particularly tall one. The last one stood out in his light armour, which was obviously well-crafted. Golden locks fell to his back and his posture showed he was the one in power.

Pointing in the general direction Harry had come from, he spoke foreign words. The language was unlike anything he had ever heard before. His voice though truly caught his attention. What Harry had heard as melody before was in fact the tall one's melodic way of speaking. 

A gut feeling told him that the person was supposed to be safe, but…something was off. While his presence emitted a soft light it appeared to be sad? Broken? Shifted into something it was never meant to be.  

One of the small bearded men responded in a gruff tone. Waving his axe to emphasise his points. Receiving nods in response. Another one spoke up, but Harry's gaze shifted back to the tall figure.

Focused as he was on the tall one, he noticed he was not reacting to anything the group said or did. Scanning his features more closely, Harry's mouth fell open. The other had pointy ears too. 

Hope bubbling in his chest he moved slightly to see his expression half hidden behind golden locks. Silver coloured eyes stared dazedly ahead. Yet filled with so much hatred, Harry gasped. 

Clapping his hands over his mouth, Harry stepped back. A twig snapped beneath his feet. Harry stiffened.

“Throkh!” One of the bearded man shouted . An axe pointed directly towards Harry.

Mind racing, he backed up further.

“Durg, zagh!” 

A sharp metallic shiiing sounded as a sword was drawn from its sheath.

Harry froze, staring at the sharp blade.

As the group cautiously approached Harry, the sharp glint of their weapons began to dull, eventually disappearing into their sheaths. The tension in the air lessened, replaced by a palpable curiosity.

The two smaller, bearded figures exchanged glances before one of them came closer, his hands raised in a non-threatening manner. His expresion a mixture of confusion and concern, attempting to convey a sense of safety.

"Khid? Ni drug ma?" he ventured, his voice carrying a hint of hope.

Murmuring among themselves, the gruffness of their voices were replaced by a softer, inquisitive tone. Only the pointed eared individual was still staring dazedly into nothingness.

However, Harry remained rooted to the spot, his emerald eyes darting between each member of the group. Their gestures and tones were foreign, incomprehensible to him. 

While their weapons were sheathed and their expressions more curious than hostile, Harry's instincts kept him wary. He had learned the hard way to trust his gut, especially in unfamiliar situations.

One of the average-sized figures extended a hand, palm up, in a universal gesture of peace. His eyes met Harry's, attempting to convey sincerity. Another offered a piece of fruit, holding it out toward Harry while keeping a safe distance, a sign of goodwill.

Yet, Harry's uncertainty remained. The strange surroundings, the unfamiliar language, and the sudden appearance of these individuals left him on edge. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing his apprehension.

As no response from him came, the one in front of him tried another language. “Phen? Aiya hentale?”

Harry stared, uncomprehendingly.

A frown appeared on the face in front of him. Slowly the hands held up in a sign of goodwill dropped. They exchanged more words; tone wary and suspicious now. Still the small person attempted communication once more.

“Merethya cenninhe?”

At least Harry knew it was a question since the tone went up at the end. Though he had no idea what he was asked.

Getting impatient he approached Harry. Letting out what was obvious a curse when he was close enough to see Harry's features. Whatever he had seen, the tension sky rocket, weapons being redrawn and Harry instantly turned and ran.

With a burst of speed, Harry's diminutive form darted between the towering trees, his newfound balance issues making it difficult. The forest floor, strewn with gnarled roots and hidden obstacles, proved nearly impossible to navigate for him in his current state. 

Each stride was a struggle in the uneven terrain. His heart pounding loudly in his ears, drowning out most other sounds.

Behind him, the thunderous roar of pursuit echoed. Rhythmic thuds of boots pounded on the ground. Sharp clangs of metal signalling their relentless advance. The smaller, bearded figures leading, their size allowing them to easily follow his path. However, the  average-sized men were catching up, their longer legs granting them an advantage.

As Harry sprinted, a sharp sting erupted from his calf, causing him to stumble momentarily. A blade had grazed him, leaving a shallow cut that oozed a thin stream of blood. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he pushed on, adrenaline fueling his resolve.

Seeker-reflexes surged. Years of Quidditch paid off. Dodging and weaving, he sidestepped deadly swings. Suddenly two of them were in front of him. Reaching out their big hands towards his small form. Thinking quickly on his feet, he used his momentum to slid beneath the right ones feet. 

Groaning in pain as the roots and stones scraped up his legs, he quickly stood up. Running as he could. Turning around the brown haired average-sized individual reached for him. Jumping out of the way, he cursed softly.

A whistle cut the air just as he picked up speed. Harry lunged aside. An arrow thudded into a tree. Another hit the tree beside his head. Gulping he sped up.

More and more arrows whizzed by. Making Harry flinch each time, he just barely managed to get out of the way. Sweat covered his whole body and he was trembling ever so often. He was naked, had no weapons and was being chased through unfamiliar surroundings.

“My wand…where is my wand?” Harry's voice was soft and desperate. The unfamiliarity of his own voice making his stomach knot.

“Agh!” 

Distracted as he had been, he did not doge in time and an arrow pierced his arm.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

Blood flowed freely. Using his other hand to put pressure on his injured right one, he cursed. Chancing a glance over his shoulder, locking eyes with the man holding the bow. He was smiling darkly as he prepared the next shot.  

As the arrow came, Harry made a swift right turn, using a tree as cover. More arrows followed, but he just kept running. Blood slowly seeped through his fingers. 

“They are curses. Just imagine they are curses.” Trying to calm himself, he felt ridiculous for being so panicked. That were only six, he checked again, five men chasing him. Just five in comparísion to the Ministry of Magic and all the Death Eaters chasing him back home.

“They are Muggles. Just Muggles, Harry.” Though even his voice dripped with doubt. They were no ordinary-

Misjudging the strength needed to jump over a root, due to his smaller form, he hit the forest floor painfully.

“Ouch! Dang it!” Another arrow grazed his already injured arm and he cried out loudly. Burning pain spreading from the wound.  

Scrambling to his feet, he continued on. Pain was irrelevant right now. Survival was important.

A steep climb loomed ahead. Cursing softly he scaled it as fast as possible as one functioning arm would allow. The other one dangling down, the arrow still sticking out and pain spreading through his body from the wound. 

Using his legs as best as he could to compensate for his arm, he quickly sought out the biggest stones to step on. Glad now for all the training he received back as a child when Duddley and his friends chased him on one of the mandatory school trips. 

Grasping the rough stone beneath his fingers tightly, he heaved himself over the edge. His eyes widened. In front of him was a sharp drop. Panic surged, breath growing shorter. Below, a furious shout echoed. Startling him so much, he nearly fell off the cliff.

Desperately clinging to the stone, he caught a glimpse of the tall figure towering over the rest. Angry demands spilled from his lips. To his shock Harry realised he could understand the language. Or at least parts of it.

“What-” Palms becoming sweaty as the injured arm protested the strain, Harry struggled to remain silent and still. Sharp edges of the cool rough stone digging into his fingers.

“-child!” Though the man was so loud, there was probably no reason for worry.

A gruff voice attempted to speak up, but the golden locked individual interrupted with a cold tone.

“-rules-” 

Out of the corner of his eyes Harry saw something he had previously missed. A cave!

“No-”

Carefully shifting his weight, he put his right foot as far to the left as possible. Changing position of his left arm next. Quickly heaving himself over, he used the momentum to crash into the cave. His breath caught at the pain surging through his body.

From outside, he heard the melodic voice drift in. “An Elfling?" Then uproarious laughter. A pleasant sound starkly contrasting his situation. It made Harry's body tremble even more. 

Shock trying to settle in, but he firmly retook control of his body. Using all his Gryffindor stubbornness to do so. There would be time once he got away.

“-any idea-” More unintelligible words. Maybe a switch to one of the previously spoken languages?

Another laugh. Harry bit his lip and pulled out the arrow with one swift motion. Barely suppressing a cry, he felt tears gather in his eyes. Blood seeping out from his hastily covered wound.

Agony, even worse than when he was originally hit coursed through his body. Making him unable to do anything but breath for a few seconds. Black spots dancing before his eyes.

“-rare!”

Putting pressure on his arm, Harry took a deep shuddering breath.

“Only every-”

Carefully crawling forward, he cradled his right arm to his chest.  Slowly but steadily moving deeper into the cave. Pausing every few metres to ensure the bleeding got better instead of worse.

Harry sighed in relief when the voices slowly faded out. 

"Elfling!" There was a pause then-

"Hahahaha!" Was the final thing he heard before the path in front of him twisted and he could only make out laughter from far below and behind him.

For what felt like an eternity, Harry crawled deeper into the cavern's labyrinthine depths. Each movement was agony, the pain from his injured arm a relentless reminder of the peril he had narrowly escaped. He paused frequently, panting, his forehead beaded with sweat as he attempted to regain his strength.

On each stop, he made sure to remove gritty debris from his wounds. Especially the cuts on his arms and legs that had accumulated over time needed to be tended to often. 

Though without water or bandages that was the only thing he could do. A shudder went through his whole body as he thought about what Madam Pomfrey would say to his current sorry state.

“Would probably chain me to a hospital room for days! No, weeks!”

Finding that he actually preferred the cave, Harry had to laugh out loud.

Using the energy that positive thought brought him, he went on with new determination.

“To freedom!”

Within a few hours, the bleeding from his arm had ceased. At the end of the day even stopping to reopen at the slightest touch. Putting strain on it was still something to be avoided at all costs.

He had been very lucky that only the tip of the arrow had actually penetrated his skin. Otherwise the situation would be completely different. 

Still despite that a fiery ache persisted, throbbing with each beat of his heart. Making him sweat every time he thought about it for too long. Which in turn made the pain worse due to salt coming in contact with the injury.

On the dawn of the second day, Harry confronted an intersection, the cave's yawning mouth splitting into multiple paths. Eying the tunnel, he weighed his options. Focusing on a narrower passage, one partly hidden by shadow. 

Recalling the sizes of his pursuers, he surmised they would not fit. With a cautious nod to himself, he ventured forth, his small form squeezing through the tight confines.

“Uff!” 

A groan left his lip as he accidentally bumped his injured arm against the cave wall. Shaking his head, he ignored how narrow the tunnel truly was. No need to make himself claustrophobic. Having grown up in a cupboard that would be too easy.

Hours melded into one another as Harry navigated the maze-like network. Whenever confronted with multiple tunnels, a gut feeling guided him. Trusting it to lead him away from the group chasing him.  

Deeper and deeper into the heart of the mountain he went. Carefully feeling the ground in front of him as sight had long since been lost to darkness. His ears strained for any sound in vain. Only his own laboured breathing reached him.

Taking another break, he tried to wet his parched lips with his tongue. It got stuck.

“So thirsty…”

Since waking up, the day before, he had not had anything to drink or eat. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food.

“Urgh.” Curing up, he decided to sleep. The cool stone feeling nice against the heated skin off his arm.

“Hmm….was the arrow poisoned?” Unable to see his arm, he was not sure what the injury looked like. “Or is it infected….?”

Sighing, he closed his eyes. “Worries for tomorrow.”

Waking up a few short hours later, he heaved himself upright. Only to gasp in pain as he connected hard with the ceiling.

“Right. Narrow cave.”

Preparing himself for another long day of crawling in the darkness, he rubbed his tired eyes.

“Just keep moving.” He encouraged himself. Steadily putting one arm in front of the other. Ignoring the soreness radiating from nearly every inch of his body. His muscles knotted at keeping such an uncomfortable position for so long.

A few hours later his efforts finally paid off. A subtle draft caressed his dirt-smeared face. The faint whisper of moving air invigorated him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he pushed himself to his limits. Fatigue weighed him down, but he kept soldiering on.  

Harry quickened his pace, following the draft, eyes shining with hope for the first time in days.

“Just…a bit more…” 

The narrow passageway gradually widened. Cold, stale air giving way to a fresher, more invigorating breeze. Harry made sure to take deep breaths. A tingly feeling going through his whole body as he enjoyed the sensation.

Crawling further, a dim light pierced the gloom, its soft glow beckoning him forward.

“Yes!” He cheered.

With trembling limbs and a heart pounding with anticipation, Harry emerged from the cave's depths. Blinking against the blinding light, his eyes widened at what he saw. Before him lay a breathtaking vista: a sprawling valley bathed in golden sunlight, its verdant landscape stretching as far as the eye could see. 

Buildings that were masterpieces of craftsmanship blended in seamlessly with the natural splendour. They had graceful curves, intricate carvings even visible from the distance and ethereal elegance graced every structure  

A river was flowing smoothly between the structures and Harry's breath caught at the beauty. He had never seen anything like that. Not even Hogwarts came remotely close.

Singing reached his ears. Beautiful, melodic tones that warmed his heart and made him feel at ease. Voices conveying so much joy and happiness that Harry felt himself break.

Tears filled his eyes at the sheer relief of finally being out of the narrow and dark tunnels. As he allowed himself a moment to breathe, shock finally settled in. The horror of what he had just went too, hitting him so hard that he started to cry.

Not silent tears either. Big, heaving sobs that wrecked his whole body. And despite clamping his good hand over his mouth, he could not stop the sounds from escaping. Nor keep his form from shaking so violently that he quickly lost his already fragile balance and fell.

“Aaaaah!”