Harry Potter: Mandos Shadow Society

As Harry plummeted into the valley, his startled scream echoed, piercing the previous serenity. Wind whooshed by his ears. Nearly drowning out the sound of his rapidly beating heart. His body twisted and turned from the turbulent air currents as the velocity sent him spiralling uncontrollable. 

Instinctively reaching for a wand, he screamed again. It was not there. Of course it was not. He had woken up completely bare.

The ground was approaching fast. Everything slowed down for him as he stared at the river beneath him. Its pristine deep blue-green colour filled his vision. Yet he could not see the bottom. Hopefully it was deep enough. He held his breath.

SPLASH

A huge wave erupted as Harry hit the surface. Entering awkwardly, pain erupted all over his body. Sinking rapidly his body was turned around. Cool water pressed down on him from all sides. 

Freezing up from shock, he focused on holding his breath. A foot connected with his head, forcing him down further. Harry gasped. Taking in a lungful of water. 

Struggling, he kicked his arms and legs. His heart pounded in his chest. Adrenaline rushing through him as he thought.

His arm came into contact with something solid. The ground. Debris of stone dug into his injury, but he ignored it. Using the stones to kick himself off. Making some breaststrokes, he finally passed through the surface.

Warmth made his face tingly after the frigidity of the water. Wheezing and coughing, tears rolled down his cheeks. His body was trembling from the shock and cold.. Then-

SLAP

A fist impacted the side of his face. Jolted his body half-emerged as he flew a few metres back. 

THUD

His head spun. Unable to tell up from down, he blinked.

“Ya!” Growled a guttural voice.

A rugged man was swiftly swimming in his direction. Face flushed with anger. Knuckles red with Harry's blood. 

It was oddly quiet now. Only the natural sounds of the river and Harry's ragged breaths are audible. No bustling of a thriving city. No singing.

Gently touching his temple, his fingers came back bloody. His feet desperately kicking to keep him afloat.

“Kol durya attli lik thiz?!”

Dark spots appeared in his vision. Liquid still came from his mouth with every cough. 

“W-” Harry tried to speak, but lacked the oxygen.

The withered face of the middle-aged man was now right in front of him. Anger flared in dark brown eyes. 

“Who aiya?” Was spat in his face. Tone dripping hostility.

Harry stared uncomprehendingly, limbs trembling from the cold.

“Anseli!”

A rough hand wrapped around his neck as he did not respond.

“Wai-”

“Ansli!” Was repeated with more aggression.

Pressure was applied to Harry's throat. Caught off guard and already emotionally overwhelmed, Harry struggled to comprehend the situation unfolding. Before he could react, he felt himself being pushed under. 

“Umph!” Harry spluttered, attempting to reemerge. The hand around his neck held him firmly in place. Scratching his nails along them, he fought to get them off.

“Meyli ansli!”

Kicking hard, he heard a grunt as his foot connected with a rib. Using the slackening grip on him, Harry got his head above the water. Gasping and coughing. 

Muttering what were most likely curses, his attacker tried to get to him again. Paddling backwards he came only a few metres before his injured arm was caught harshly.

Rustling of leaves and soft footsteps could be heard by Harry. His senses on high alert, he turned his face towards the sound. A few people appeared on the riverbank. They were tall and imposing. Their movements were fluid and effortless.

Harry was stunned. Something about them made him relax. A soft glow was emitting from each of them. Black hair was flowing down their backs and their gazes were sharp and penetrating. Just as he locked eyes with one of them-

“Aaaah!” 

His injured arm was brutally squeezed, causing a wave of pain to surge through his already battered body. The world around him wavered, his vision blurring as darkness threatened to consume him. Each breath he took was a laborious effort. Agony radiated from the arrow wound as it reopened, intensifying with every heartbeat.

Quick, concerned glances were exchanged by the figures in the distance. Though the grey eyes he had been looking at, remained on him. Wisdom shining in their depth, even as they widened in surprise. 

Apparently he was the leader as he stepped closer, his presence commanding yet filled with a sense of compassion beyond Harry's understanding.

“Relese,” The voice carried a soothing resonance, even as the tone was authoritative. While the words, spoken in the rugged man's language, were clearly directed at the one holding him, the focus remained on him.

Pressure was applied to Harry's arm as the man holding him tensed. His dark eyes darted between Harry's vulnerable form and the slowly approaching people. Posture turning defensive, body poised for another assault.

“Stal sod!” Pulling Harry closer, he growled. “Se attlme.”

Yet, despite the aggressive stance, Harry could feel the fingers on him tremble.

The stranger's words echoed with a sense of urgency, but the graceful beings continued their advance. Though a few eyebrows were raised as they took in the murky red water around Harry. 

“Wiwe sadit.” Was calmly promised by the leader. Swiftly stepping hip-high into the river without removing his clothes, he held out a hand. “Gise toli.” 

Eyeing the newcomers warily, the man's expression rapidly went through emotions. Another group came into view. In the front a man looking similar to the one holding him. He was shouting something in the foreign language and making frantic arm motions. 

Finally, the one beside him made a derisive sound, heaving Harry up and literally throwing him towards the leader of the graceful beings. 

As he was air-born for the second time today, he felt his stomach roll. He was headed straight for the tall figure. With high speed. Gasping in shock, he watched in horror as the distance decreased rapidly. 

Ripples spread in every direction when his feet came in contact with the water. Then with a swift movement that showcased a combination of strength and agility, hands grasped his side.

 For a moment he felt weightless. Breath hitching. Then he was gently cradled in the stranger's arms. Warm skin against his freezing body.

Deep, penetrating eyes met Harry's, a mixture of surprise and concern evident within them. 

"Aiya unnanned?" was inquired, the voice steady despite the unexpected turn of events.

Harry, still catching his breath, looked up, confusion evident on his bruised face. Unable to understand, he bit his lip. 

His temple pounded where the fist had connected earlier. Not to mention the kick. Everything had already spun around him before, but after being thrown around like that, he felt sick to his stomach.

“Waz e want?”  He understood nothing, but he liked the strangers voice. It was soothing.

Harry gently laid his head against the man's chest. It was pleasantly warm and he was so cold. If he intended him any harm, there was nothing he could do at this point anyway. 

A group of the graceful people formed a circle around them, but kept a respectable distance. A few of them gave him curious and worried glances, but others watched his assailant with intense focus.

Those people had neutral expressions. Their muscles were deceptively relaxed. Yet their eyes showed they were ready for anything. 

Guards? Soldiers? Veterans for sure.

Harry idly noted they stood at the edge of the group. Watchful and quiet. Their eyes older than most of those around them.

Huh.

“What should we do with the Dunlendings, Ada?” One of them spoke up, keeping his voice soft so as not to be overheard. “Attacking a child like this...”

Adjusting Harry in his arms, the man shook his head. Harry frowned, something was odd.

“We will have to see about that.” They watched as the rugged man emerged from the water. As soon as he did, the one who had frantically gestured before approached. Face red with fury, he started shouting at the man.

Realising he still understood nothing, he blinked.

Had he not just been able to-

“Escort our guests to their chambers.” The one holding him commanded. 

“Of course, Lord Elrond.” One of them replied before steadily walking over to the group with the now slightly-less frantic looking man. 

With a start Harry realised, he could actually understand the graceful beings. Not only the base meaning, but actually understand what they were saying. 

Tears sprung to his eyes and he buried his head in Elrond's shoulder to hide them. Flinching as he accidentally put pressure on his head wound.

“Young one?” Came the worried whisper from above. Form still shaking from occasional coughs, Harry clenched his fingers in the wet tunic. The throbbing pain in his temple made focusing hard.

Gathering his strength as he was carried out of the water, he took a deep shuddering breath.

“Can you…understand me?” Harry managed to wheeze out, his voice shaky and uncertain. He clung tighter to the man's tunic, his fingers trembling.

Grey eyes widened in surprise, his gaze deepening with understanding as he looked down at the young boy in his arms. The rhythmic sound of Sindarin, an ancient tongue of his people, flowed effortlessly from Harry's lips, catching him off guard.

"Pen-neth," the man murmured, voice gentle, "How is it that you speak Sindarin?"

"Sindarin…?” He muttered too soft to be heard. 

“I... I don't know," he stammered, his eyes searching the other's face. The words had simply come to him, unbidden yet strangely familiar. Similar to Parseltongue, only more natural.

A glance was exchanged above his head. Their eyes widened in wonderment. "You are a long way from home, young one," the man said softly, adjusting his grip on Harry to ensure he was secure.

Taking in the graceful figures that surrounded him, he squinted his eyes. Despite his blurry vision their otherworldly features were obvious. The beauty of their presence was mesmerising, and yet, he felt a pang of vulnerability. 

"Where... where am I?" He whispered, fear evident in his voice.

"You are in Rivendell," One of them replied, voice soothing. "A place of peace and refuge."

Harry's heart sank. While he had not expected to know the name of this valley. He had hoped for it to be at least passingly familiar. 

Hermoine had told him of countless dwellings of different magical beings after all. She had furiously researched them when she fought for house-elve rights.

"Rivendell?" he echoed, his voice barely audible.

"Yes," The man confirmed, gaze soft with compassion. "You are safe here, young one."

Unconsciously he reached out with his left arm. Fingers slowly tracing along the edges of the pointed ear. Foggy as his mind was, he was unable to keep his next question in. “What are you?”

Harry's fingers gently brushed the pointed ear, feeling the cool, smooth texture beneath his touch. The people surrounding him exchanged glances, their expressions darkening. The one holding him gently patted Harry's head.

"I am Elrond, the Lord of the Last Homely House.” Elrond's hands became even gentler when he saw his confused expression. “And we are the Elves of Imladris, child." 

The last Homely House? Imladris?

How many names did this place have?

And why did not a single one sound familiar?

Voice calm and reassuring, he added, "A race that has dwelt in these lands for countless ages."

Harry nearly flinched.

So, no recent development. A very unrealistic part of him had clung to the thought of them somehow rapidly growing this settlement out of nothing. 

Would have been too convenient anyway.

Harry's gaze shifted, taking in the ethereal beauty of the elves surrounding him. Their gracefulness seemed to contrast sharply with his current state: bruises marrying his skin, his arm red, swollen and sore, and a persistent ache throbbing in his head. 

The icy chill from the river clung to him, causing him to shiver. His body struggled to maintain warmth after the frigid immersion. 

To distract himself, he lifted his head. The other group was leaving. From this perspective it was easy to see, they were clearly human. An elf was firmly guiding them away. A hand placed on his assailant's shoulder.  

A wave of dizziness washed over Harry, his vision blurring further momentarily. He felt Elrond's grip tighten around him, steadying him. "Easy, young one," Elrond murmured, sensing Harry's weakened state. "You've endured much."

Harry nearly chuckled hysterically at that.

If the elf only knew how much he had truly gone through.

His parched throat stopped him though. Laughing would hurt.

A dull burn spread through him, every time he gulped. Breathing felt like he was inhaling a tiny fireball, he opened his mouth. 

With a start, he realised why.

He hadn't had food or drink in days. 

Oh.

That certainly explained, why he was so exhausted. Each movement tiring him even further.

Childish as it was, he decided to pretend Elrond was Sirius. The elf was offering comfort, he had always sought from his godfather after all. From the way he held him up to the way he spoke to him.

So nice…

If the elves turned out to be hostile, he would deal with it. Somehow. 

To his sluggish thought process that sounded like a valid plan. 

Oh or maybe he should think of him as Remus? He reminded Harry of the gentle teacher. 

Hmmm…

”Remius.” He decided out loud, voice slurred. 

Elrond glanced at him worriedly as Harry let his  head drop. Enjoying the gentle presence of the elf. 

"We must attend to your injuries," Elrond said, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. Turning to one of the elves, he instructed, "Prepare a healing draught and bring nourishment."

As the elf hastened to fulfil Elrond's request, Harry smiled. He could not remember when he had been hugged last time and this was close enough for him to count. Remius was very comfy.

"You are safe here." Harry was gently reassured. "Rest now, and heal."

“Hmh.” He mumbled, nausea building as they started moving. Quick strides away from the river.

“We are going to the Healing Halls.” One of the elves accompanying them explained. 

As Harry nestled against Elrond, the gentle hum of elvish songs enveloped him, their soothing melodies acting as a balm to his weary soul. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with challenges and unknowns. Yet, in this moment, within the sanctuary of the elfs embrace, Harry found a fleeting sense of peace.

He blinked, realising he must have either fallen asleep or fainted for a bit. His skin felt uncomfortably sticky. Looking down, he winced. “Sorry for bleeding on you.” 

"Your well-being is of greater concern," Elrond reassured him, his voice steady yet filled with compassion.

As he was gently lowered Harry onto a plush bed adorned with intricate elvish designs, Harry's eyes widened in astonishment. They were inside a magnificent room. It was bathed in a soft, ethereal light that emanated from delicate crystals embedded in the walls and ceiling. 

The warm glow created a comforting ambiance. Scents of aromatic herbs and essential oils filled the air with a pleasantly soothing scent.

A goblet of water was carefully placed to his lips and he greedily drank. Swiftly having another coughing fit as his throat was still sore from being parched, having been choked and held underwater.

"Easy now." Elrond's hands grounded him, rubbing circles on his back.  Once he could breathe again, the goblet was offered again. “Small sips.”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Harry managed a weak nod. "Thank you," he rasped, drinking slowly this time. 

An elvish healer approached, carrying with her a bowl filled with a shimmering, golden liquid. 

"This will help," she said, her voice echoing the soothing tones of Rivendell.

“The healing draught.” Elrond explained before Harry could ask. 

Carefully, she administered it to Harry, whose eyes widened in surprise at its immediate effect. The burning sensation in his throat subsided, and a warm sensation spread throughout his body, easing the tension in his muscles and alleviating some of the discomfort.

Once finished, she turned towards Elrond, who shook his head preemptively. “I will tend to him myself.”

“I shall be back with the food then.” Eyeing Harrys state critically she added. “I shall also get a basin of warm water and a cloth.” Nodding respectfully, she bowed slightly before leaving. the room. 

Harry grimaced as he realised that he was still partly covered in dirt, despite his struggles in the river having washed off the worst of the grime. 

“The bed is dirty now too.” Tone horrified, he moved to stand up. 

Aunt Petunia would have thrown him out for sure if he even considered entering her house like that. Touching freshly washed covers like this? Dire consequences.

Rebelling the sudden change in position, Harry's vision swam. A wave of nausea hitting hard. Promptly causing him to vomit over the side of the bed. Tremors went through his small frame. All he could think about was that his aunt would have killed him for this.

A hand reached out to him and Harry instinctively flinched back. Expecting to be hit. Punished for dirtying the pristine floor.

“Shush.” Elrond gently whispered. Carefully holding Harry's hair back as he continued to retch. “It is ok. Shhhh.”

A few other elves rushed over, but they were quickly waved away. When the elf healer returned, she silently put the water basin on a side table. A firm shake of her lord's head made her quietly leave.

When the nausea finally abadded, he was handed a cloth to wipe his mouth.  Gently, being helped to lay down, he squeezed his eyes shut from the renewed churning in his stomach.

Ensuring Harry was in a comfortable position, Elrond sat down on a stool beside the bed. Dipping the newly brought cloth into the warm liquid, he wrought out the excess. 

"I am going to clean and attend to your injuries now." Making Harry smile in appreciation at being told what would be done with him. 

Madam Pomfrey could have learned a lot from this elf.

Starting with the face, the dirt and grime was carefully wiped away. Special care was taken around the bruising on his throat and where the fist had hit his temple. 

There was a quick flash of something in the elfs face when he tended to the area with the foot print, but he said nothing. 

Harry winced as the cloth touched the tender skin, but he gritted his teeth and held still. As Elrond moved downward, he meticulously cleaned each scrape and bruise, his fingers working with precision and ease of experience.

Upon reaching Harry's inflamed arrow wound, Elrond's expression tightened with concern. Scrutinising the wound, he swiftly removed any debris stuck in it. Miraculously without causing further pain. 

Taking out a salve from a drawer, he turned back to his patient. “This is a healing salve, famous for its effectiveness among my kind.” 

Apologetically, he added. “Usually I would give you pain reducing herbs to chew first, but as you have just been sick that would be unwise. Still this needs to be applied now. It might sting, please bear with it..”

Harry nodded, hissing in pain as the salve made contact. Fidgeting a bit, but doing his best to keep his arm in position.

"Your wounds will heal, but it will take time," Elrond assured him, wrapping a clean bandage around the arrow wound.

Next, Elrond examined the bruises on Harry's throat, applying a cooling balm that provided relief to the tender skin. The after-effects of inhaling water were more challenging to address, but with gentle encouragement, Elrond guided Harry through deep breaths to help clear his lungs.

“We shall bring in aromas here that will help your lungs recover.” With a gesture of his hand a passing elf nodded, bringing a patch of sweetly scented pots over.

As Elrond tended to the sluggish bleeding from the remaining scrapes, he worked meticulously, ensuring each one was cleaned, treated, and bandaged appropriately. Throughout the process, Harry's eyes remained fixed on Elrond, seeking reassurance in the elf's steady hands and calm demeanour. 

Remus' face was flashing more and more often in front of his inner eye when he looked at the elf. A smile spread on his lips as he thought of how his teacher had guided him through creating a Patronus. A way to defend against his worst fears.

Finally, turning his attention to the head injury, Elrond sighed. His fingers gently probed the tender spots on Harry's temple, his expression thoughtful. "Considering your symptoms, you most likely have a concussion." He murmured, his voice tinged with concern.

Harry blinked, the room's gentle glow momentarily blurring. He tried to focus on Elrond's face, swallowing hard. 

"Concussion?" Harry was quite sure that exact word had once prolonged his stay in the Hospital Wing after being hit by a Bludger. All the potions he had been forced to drink made him shudder to this day.

"Yes," Elrond replied softly, setting aside the cloth he had been using. "It's essential to ensure you rest and avoid strenuous activities. You've endured much, young one."

A shadow passed over Harry's eyes, a fleeting memory of the recent events clouding his thoughts. A dubious look in his eyes, he nodded. Maybe his Potter luck would be considerate enough to wait a bit before kicking in again. 

"I will prepare a concoction to help alleviate the symptoms and aid in your recovery," Elrond said, rising gracefully from the stool. Moving to a nearby cabinet, he began selecting various vials and ingredients swiftly and effectively.

As he worked, Harry's gaze wandered around the room, taking in the serene surroundings of Rivendell. Elves were bustling by. Sparing him smiles and soft greetings as they passed. 

A few elves lay as patients in the beds, but they all appeared to be at ease. Most of them having minor wounds and the worst case being someone with bandages wrapped around his shoulder. 

That particular patient was half-heartedly complaining to a visitor about hurting himself during a dare. Saying someone called Glorfindel was mad about it and promised to harsher his training as punishment once he recovered.

Mixing a few ingredients, Elrond created a fragrant potion. "This will help with the pain and dizziness," he explained, lifting the vial to Harry's lips. "Do you think you can keep it down yet?."

With a nod, Harry obediently swallowed the potion, feeling its effects almost instantly. The throbbing in his head lessened, and the room's spinning sensation subsided.

"Thank you," Harry murmured, his eyelids growing heavy. The events of the day, combined with the pain and the healing draughts, were taking their toll on him.

“You are welcome.” Taking the washing cloth in hand once more, he stated. “Nearly done. I just need to clean and dress the injuries on your head and see if there is anything else I have missed.”

Reaching out the elf carefully cleaned the injuries on his head. Then swiftly applied the healing salve. Then he bandaged it with utomst care.

Afterwards, Elrond delicately threaded his fingers through the tangled locks of hair atop the young boy's head. Searching for further damage.

In doing so, he unexpectedly brushed against a slightly pointed ear. Pausing momentarily, Elrond's fingers lingered at the peculiar shape, his brows furrowing in quiet contemplation. 

"Your ears..." Elrond began, his voice misleadingly calm, "they bear an unusual shape."

Harry, sensing the shift in demeanour, froze. Had the other group not turned hostile the moment after seeing his ear? But he had assumed since all elves appeared to have them…

That it would be ok.

Instinctively, he brushed his hair over his ears. "Oh, no no. Must be the position I am lying in.” Harry forced his muscles to remain relaxed, even as his heartbeat increased. 

Would they hurt him?

Grey eyes narrowed, a deep sense of realisation dawning upon his face as he gently touched the peculiar ear again, brushing aside the hair with deliberate care. 

"This is... unexpected." Elrond murmured, a hint of urgency creeping into his normally composed tone.

Harry's eyes darted, hearing his blood pounding in his ears. The atmosphere in the room grew tense. As if the air itself was weighed down by unspoken questions. 

"Unexpected?" Harry echoed, attempting to feign innocence, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his unease. 

Have others heard their exchange? Was it too late to flee?

"Indeed," Elrond replied, gaze piercing yet not unkind. "Elflings are rare. The last one was born centuries ago, and that individual has long since reached adulthood." His fingers still lingered near Harry's ear, a silent testament to the gravity of his discovery.

“And yet…” There was wonder in his voice now.

A cold dread settled in Harry's stomach, his mind racing to comprehend the implications. "I-" He stopped mid-sentence. Hesitant how to continue. Was there even anything he could say?

"You bear the mark of our kind," Elrond continued, his tone measured yet tinged with concern. "Your condition, the injuries you've sustained, and now this... It raises questions..." 

Harry's stomach turned and he had to forcefully gulp down the bile rising in his throat.

“Questions that deserve answers.” The words were firm and unyielding.

His small frame started to tremble again, he could not meet the elfs eyes any longer. 

"What happened to you? How did you come to be in such a state?" There was something dark in his tone now.

A memory of him in the duelling club flashed before his eyes. The expressions of his classmates when they saw him hiss at the snakes. The utter horror in their eyes when one of them, the Golden Boy no less, used a language associated with the Dark Lord.

With evil.

Elrond's expression was not quite that and yet-

Harry could not bear it any longer. 

Leaning over, retching over the side of the bed once more. The elf snapped out of his musings, visibly alarmed by Harry's reaction.

With swift grace, Elrond leaned over, his demeanour turning from contemplative to deeply concerned. He extended his hands, emitting a soothing aura.

"Hush," Elrond whispered softly, holding Harry's hair back once more. "You are okay. I've got you."

Harry's breaths came out in short, ragged gasps, his eyes clouded with fear and confusion. "I don't..." He stammered between shaky breaths. "I'm sorry. I-"

Elrond's expression softened, cutting him off gently to prevent him from spiralling further. "It's alright." He reassured, though his eyes were hard from emotions Harry could not comprehend.

Elrond subtly sought the gazes of other elves who were about to approach, silently communicating with them. Recognizing his signal, one of the elves quietly exited the room, while the others remained on vigilant watch, their presence unobtrusive yet alert.

As the moments passed, Harry's breathing gradually steadied, though the haunted look in his eyes remained. He clutched the edges of the bed tightly.

"I need to leave immediately," Harry declared, determination evident as he jumped to his feet. However, before he could take another step, dark spots clouded his vision. Spreading fast until he found himself falling, consciousness fading.

The last thing he felt was being enveloped in unfamiliar arms.