Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Amrod Feanorion had a hasty and a very much prophesised death, a long life wandering in a world not his own, before he really became Arthur Weasley. The fire that the ships caught swallowed him whole, but more than that, the betrayal of his own father burning him alive was what burned his fëa where regular fire could not reach. The eyes void of guilt or remorse were forever seared in his memory.

As his fëa detaches from his drowning, burnt body, he doesn't wake up in Mandos. He doesn't wake up in the Void either.

Maybe for the better, given what happened with the Teleri and them waiting in the Halls of Mandos thereafter.

He wakes up elsewhere. Re-embodied, no scarring, on the body at least, marring his skin. It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s in a different world. With none of his kin.

A world where he couldn't feel the Valar, Maiar, the Song or Eru or anything that could point him on the way home. On a side note, the world he was in was round. Talk about unsettling revelations.

There were also beings he never heard of, and creatures he didn't recognize. And ones he did, concerned him greatly.

Humans, were beings that aged, got sick and died easier than one would like, but also changed in a span of thousand years unrecognisably.

And they weren't the only highly sapient and sentient beings there.

Wherever he was, it wasn't Arda anymore. In some places, similar enough he could adjust and learn, in some places, vastly different. Ages past, and his search for a way home to Arda yields nothing still.

He settles in one place, for a while. If only for a brief respite from his hopeless search. It’s also the moment he finds the Weasleys, who adopted him not long after meeting. ("I mean, red hair, on the edge of poverty and barmy-looking? You're already a family." As a former prince, he was indecisive whether to feel touched or insulted.)

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His course of idle life as an eccentric cousin/uncle Weasley that is shrouded by mystery, change with time. 20^th century is the time everything goes way quicker than he is used to and is generally hard to keep up with. Seriously, Amrod went camping for a fifty years and now they have a carriage without a horse. What gives?

But his interest was piqued then, once technology of humans exceeded those he remembered from his home.

But his newfound interest in muggle trinkets wasn't the only thing that happened. He decided to once again, attend a magical school, just like he promised to Sylvia Pembroke, centuries ago. (In the past, his magic did not work the same way it did to others, not until after blood adoption from the before mentioned Weasleys.)

It's also the place where he met her.

Fierce, with hair burning like fire, and vast knowledge on how to hurt a person psychically and emotionally, Molly Prewett was a force to recon with. And one he fell in love at first sight.

It was but only a single spark traveling between them, that made Amrod realize his interest in marriage began now. An accomplished duellist and a promising future to her name, their eyes met, and Amrod promptly lost himself in her gaze.

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Amrod Feanorion was born with pride and a family name of vast skill that never made him doubt the person who marries him would be anything but unhappy. At least not in inadequacy of gifts, jewellery adorning their necks and respect along with high sought position even as the youngest of the seven children.

Arthur Weasley though, he was a poor wizard and highly speculated bastard child whose background was terribly sketchy in parts. The Hat remembers him from hundreds of years ago, and he is sorted Gryffindor, right where his other half was. She’s 17, adult in her last year, and he’s an elf, masquerading as a human of the same age.

He's got nothing but the title of pureblood to his name which he resents and is but a lie (Amrod knows magic doesn't strengthen up if you wed two uncomfortably close cousins. It's also abhorrible in well, everything. Especially if you do the same generations afterwards and they are forced.)

Molly was already pureblood and did not believe this nonsense either, which added to her loveliness. But the point stands, he didn't really have anything to give her, last of the seven and the fact he arrived penniless and completely stranded. He may have lived long, but his collections aren’t ones that can be sold, too dear or invaluable because of their nature.

Regarding titles, it would take his entire family to disinherit and die for him to even be considered for the position. Both here and back in Arda.

He wasn't good in any craft, not really finding his real area of expertise, back in Aman trailing after Celegorm still. His motivational and conversationalist speeches would shame his entire family and he was currently so poor he couldn't really afford to even try to make something that would make her look his way. (He will never again disrespect Carnistir for his financial obsession.) His hands trail to tinkering with things, many yielding disastrous results, but he wouldn’t call that a craft as much as experimentation.

In the end, it's Molly who catches him unaware, practically tearing into him in a cabinet and only the intervention of Professor McGonagall was what saved him from flash marrying in a quidditch changing room. (To be honest, if it did happen, he wouldn’t have minded.) McGonagall’s offended look will remain seared in his mind for eternity and then some.

They marry right after graduating anyway.

He doesn't have anything to give her, political station, power, title or money. He knows that. But when they lay bare, close to each other, such things don’t matter. He has no illusion over how long their relationship will last. It will be a lifetime. Her lifetime, that is. He knows. The risk, the pain of mortality, of her inevitably leaving, and yet, the selfish part of him, the lonely part that was left here, lost and alone, craves companionship. And even if it turned out to be a short while, for one and half century is indeed such a short time for love, it burns so blazingly, the flickering passion from one to another, that he can’t bring himself to regret.

"Do you love me, Arthur?" Molly asks, her eyes looking at him, his reply being the decisive matter on how their relationship will go.

The answer is simple. And true. "I do. More than anything." He says, and he means it. He loves her. He does, so so much.

"Then that's all we need." And she kisses him just like that.

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"I think I take after my mother." Confesses Amrod in the dark of their bedroom in a small shack they made just for themselves. Pair of Weasleys. Living in The Burrow. The joke doesn’t escape him.

"In what way?" Molly asks. By now, she knows of his secrets and yet despite that, she loves him still. They love each other for everything. His cursed eternity, her fleeting life.

"I found myself a partner that everyone thinks is too good for me." Whereas he was unremarkable.

Molly was a powerful witch, everyone felt it. He felt it. Right now, Amrod wasn't as beautiful as he once was, glamour making him as average as one can be. He was poor, his adoptive family was too muggle positive, they weren't taken as a respectable company and yet still he married arguably well.

Molly was pretty, gorgeous, even. She knew and mastered spells quicker than others. She also had many suitors who sought after her, for her powers, name, looks.

And she settled for him while he didn't have anything he had prided himself on having before.

Sharp eyes of one Molly Guinevere Weasley née Prewett zeroed on him.

"ARTHUR SEPTIMUS WEASLEY. YOU BETTER LOOK AT ME WHEN I SAY THIS.” She shouts, her voice sharp, finger sharply jabbing into his chest. “I didn't marry you for money. Or politics. If I wanted just that, I would have chosen another. I married you because we fell in love, and sometimes, that's all that matters. It does. For me.” Just then, the sharp finger softened into a hand, gently touching his chest in a reassuring and intimate gesture.

“There is no other man I love more than you and no amount money can buy love or happiness.” Molly sighs, resting her head on him.

“I won't pretend life won't be hard, but you don't get to pretend I am a frail lady who married you without knowing that we will face struggles to begin with. The decision to marry was ours and we are in this, together." She says firmly, allowing no arguments.

Not on this.

Amrod loves her.

They share an intimate kiss, a night, a bed where all worries were, if only briefly, just a stray thought.

Amrod learned to let go.

The doom that used loom over him, no longer weighted on him as badly after millennia living, in part, he suspects, may be due to the missing the Song, the light of Arda and the distinct lack of Valar. But lately, for unknown reasons, he felt his oath bounds snap, which bought him confusion, relief and worry about what could have happened.

He long entertained the idea of looking for a way back, and now, besides his wife, it remained such. An idea. There will come time, his wife will die, he knows, she knows, and when that happens- well, he is well used to loss. Humans are fleeting beings and as much as it hurts to lose them, he doesn’t deal well with being alone. He can resume searching, after, after, their love comes to pass. But be it her current form, be it her old and grey, be it her lying in her casket or be it she, taking away in a form of dust, he would love her still.

But not all is perfect, as he wishes things to be. The war is starting to take over their lives, and they sire their first child in the beginning of it. He didn’t even know it was possible to sire children with mortal equivalent of Maias. Then again, with their history of creatures in the bloodline, it would have been more of a surprise if they didn’t.

Molly didn’t expect it either, but she’s ecstatic, despite the brewing war.

It's unwise. Downright dumb to sire children during times of unrest. And nothing an Eldar would typically risk.

Of course, that's what he thinks first, before he realizes Molly is human. Human, mortal, maia, witch. Humans don’t plan pregnancies as much as just have them. It’s baffling for him, whose knowledge of siring children was of sacrificing a part of their fëa to mix up to make a progeny.

And another thought occurs, much more jarring.

Wixen live long, but not forever. No matter how similar he looks to the humans now, he was still an Elda in his fëa. And he does, fit that is, if only outwardly, because while ‘Earth’, adoption and whatever Powers rule this place may change his body as it likes, his fëa, a proof of his origins of being a child of Eru, remains elven. But what the foreign world did not change about him, marriage could. He does feel a change within himself, once the marriage bond sets, one of the things that he knows will stay with him long after she’s gone, embedded deep into his heart.

Molly is fire. His wife can have a temper of the hottest fire in the forge, but also can simmer down to a gentle flame in a fireplace, smothering with care. And it is one that warms him into this unknown world.

Marriage is an indescribable experience, two souls clicking together like a piece of puzzle, for as much as their lives are different, they match, regardless of race, background and world they live and lived in. It is also what makes him seem more ‘human’ their Fëas influencing each other.

“You’re pregnant?” Amrod repeats after Molly confesses the first time she's pregnant, because it’s the third time she vomited food because it didn’t smell good. We can have children? Is another, as after confessing his immortality to Molly, he just assumed pregnancy can’t happen, regardless of how many times Molly reminded him of cases that also shouldn’t have been possible but were born anyway.

He regrets not listening, as his wife now carries his child.

"I’m not getting rid of the baby, Arthur.” She says firmly, daring him to even suggest such, taking his horrified look as refusal of their child and possibility of him of pressuring her to miscarry. If anything, that horrified him a lot more, for an elf, a pregnancy wasn’t something you just get rid of. Much less do accidentally, which Amrod sees, he’s probably first to do so.

“No, no, I mean it’s- I just- I didn’t know we could have babies i- I- I’m going to be a father- Oh my- By the- I’m really… going to be a father?” He’s nowhere ready but ready all the same. And then they both cry in the bathroom for a while, Amrod promising that of course he’s staying.

He still does feel uneasy though.

In elven terms, it was a very dangerous thing to happen, especially given how much soul and force is poured into creation of a Fëa. Doing it during wartime was nothing but suicide. It was why Noldor limited their births 100 years before sailing, foreboding feeling of dread and anticipation stopping them form siring temporarily.

And those who didn't heed the warning in their head, were the ones that didn't sail at all. In the end, the word “They’ll figure it out, somehow.” becomes a favourite saying of theirs.

William Arthur Weasley is wake of war.

And then another.

And another.

It becomes clear, Molly liked the multitude of children they had despite the stress and danger. If anything, there was a perverse thrill in it.

"How many children do you want to have?" He asks her exasperated, right when Percy is born. He’s really contemplating naming him Carnistir, because Percy’s red puffy cheeks reminds him of his brother in an anger fit. He has enough self-preservation to not do so.

"I always wanted a daughter." Is her cryptic answer instead of clear number. She coos at her 3^rd child, showing their now 4-year-old son Bill his newest brother.

Amrod is wise enough not to say that as a Fëanorion, uncle to Celebrimbor, and him being blood adopted by the human Weasleys, who had a bad track record of not siring a daughter since he was adopted which was generations ago, there is very little hope for a girl to be born.

Who knows, four is a lucky number. Certainly, more than 7.

Not.

The twins are born, last of the siblings to ever be born outside a healer’s hall. The sight of two identical children caught his breath in an instant. And-

Twins. Like him. It filled him with both dread and happiness.

"Maybe the twins are the sign of an end?" he suggests, taking the babies to himself. He coos at the small things he holds in his arms. Bill holds Percy as Charlie curiously scoots over, pinching his newest brother’s cheeks.

He looks at the twin on the left. Something tells him, the baby takes more after him than he thinks.

Name of Umbarto rolls in his tongue. He holds the name between his teeth, words never leaving his tongue. Sometimes, in faraway future, he thinks that’s what saved his son.

Instead, the left child is named Fred and next to him George.

He and his brother aren’t the only twins appearing in his vision, the twins of his wife appearing too, and, in the end, the twins end up carrying their names too.

"Nonsense Arthur, my family had me after the twins. I'm sure this is a sign." Molly says determinedly, before kissing her children’s cheeks.

They have many children afterwards still.

And there lays an unspoken agreement between them, one they know and acknowledge. For while he loves Molly, his love for his children would make him rip his own heart out of his chest. And he knows Molly thinks the same as her eyes snap to complete adoration, staring at the children they have and will have.

They love each other, undeniably. Yet watching their children, inheriting a piece of them, makes the love up so much more potent and lasting.

Ron is arguably the smallest baby he’d ever seen, and he’s born from him. He’s extremely premature, for whatever reason, and so, so much smaller than any of his previous sons and daughter he had a year after. It terrifies him.

“He’s just born early, Arthur.” Molly whispers softly. “The healers reassured he’s completely fine.”

“He’s so small.” Arthur sobs. “What if he breaks?”

He’s so small. He could carry him with one hand alone. Ronald was palm sized. No one knows the cause of Ron needing, magically demanding to be born so early, and they have no answers to the phenomenon. But the moment is etched into his memory, as his son takes a far too shallow breath for his liking. He’s a small, red thing that was born far too unprepared for the world and struggling to go by. He looks like he’d break if Amrod handled him a single bit wrong. It’s something that haunts him for many years to come.

He cried the first time Bill was born. Joy overflowing uncontrollably. Other occasions were no less joyous, but often, they were accompanied with laughs and happy screaming unlike the first time. This one, is filled with worry, so much fear, that Ron will become just a gravestone of someone not yet realized. He knows the stories of mortals, of unfortunate miscarriages. He fears his son will be just like that, too. A footprint of remembrance of what could’ve been. He couldn’t relax, then, and reminisces these moments, when looking at pictures.

Another pregnancy is a false call. Then there was Ginny, who they were expecting to be a boy for her strong kicks.

Ginny’s birth, which involved screaming of epic proportions and his baby girl looking like she fought herself out rather than got pushed out, was a much more welcome change to Ron's.

____________________________________________________

Amrod Feanorion finishes speaking, looking at his children, expecting a reaction. For a while, no one speaks.

It is hard to do so too, as Molly Weasley has been dead for less than few weeks.

Of things that happened but weren’t incorporated:

1> Accidental magic

There are many types of accidental magic kids do through their childhood, but some happen more frequently, that being:

The twins weaponised their accidental magic to do pranks. Not always did it work, but when it did, it was great. It ranged from colouring hair to creating sink holes out of nowhere.

Bill tended to apparate to people when he really needs to find them. He never gets lost because once he feels like being lost, his anxiety causes him to get to any person he knows. Amrod and Molly had to take a long trip to get him back from France, once. He finds his wayward siblings like that too. The younger Weasleys just think he’s always there when he appears besides them where he wasn’t before.

Charlie summoned animal shaped things to him, one victim being Errol. Amrod had to weed out the garden of anything dangerous, so Charlie won’t call them to himself, no matter how well he got with them. Seeing Charlie calling an adder towards his crib was quite enough of a scare.

Percy are more tame in comparison to his family, like organizing stuff, and pages of books moving by itself and making writings appear.

Ron’s accidental magic was the vanishing charm. Lowkey something that protected him rather well from the twins. Like, if he was overwhelmed with fear, it would cause those things to disappear. Like the transfigured spider. He never got the plush back though. :((

Ginny floated, at one point, Amrod walked with her tied to a rope like a balloon, before Molly got the wind of it.

“She likes it.” Says Amrod.

“She needs to learn to walk one day.” Says Molly.

Neville protected himself.

Harry's accidental magic was retaliaton towards those that wrong him.

Hermione's was conjuring or summoning books from somewhere.

Hannah could do mostly the cheering charm.

Luna could enchant objects she made. Like, she once made a pasta necklace and said it would protect them from some variant breed of Nargles, and much to Amrod's horror, it did have a protection charm imbued in it. He tried to reverse engineer it a multitude of times, but it will remain a mystery the same way Silmarils are.

(Why am I mentioning them? Find out next chapter!)

2>Amrod’s short hair

Charlie’s role playing as dragon caused Amrod’s hair to catch on fire. Molly insisted he still looked great with hair as short as they are now. He kept them like so because he’s a useless simp.

It is not at all because he got millennial flashback to the ships-

3>Bowl cut Weasleys.

Amrod tried to get everyone to have long hair. It was ok with Molly, until they realised, none of the children save Ginny, have the patience to care for them.  Molly at one point in life tried to comb their hair, but she got seven kids to take care of, and some hair just isn’t salvageable.

Bill, despite insisting on having long hair, refuses to take proper care of them. When Amrod ruffles his hair once, after Bill gets his job, he’s traumatised. The things he touched in those hairs-

Bill’s fang earring tends to get tangled up in those curls too, so the earring looks like it’s hanging from the hair instead of the ear. Some of the hair is tangled in it too.

When Molly finally gets the moment to cut them off, she dusts the hair, to see crumples of some dusted tomb remains fall from it. That was the better option. The worse are something awful and slimy writhing inside it. There’s a moment of grieving silence from the couple when they see that.

Bill still magically grows back his hair when that happens, which means Amrod has limited time to ruffle his clean, properly cared hair, before it becomes a monstrosity again.

Charlie, well, it isn’t exactly wise to have long hair when dealing with dangerous creatures. Amrod has to reluctantly agree as his own hair caught on fire when on the burning ship. Knowing that Charlie works with dragons, he doesn’t want him to get yanked to his death. (Somewhere in a whole another universe, Glorfindel sneezes.)

Percy follows current trends, and with the exception of Malfoy, everyone had short hair. It was practical too. Which… Amrod can’t argue against. Hilariously, the only reason Lucius Malfoy has long hair is because Amrod had them, and they looked far better on him that they would ever look on Malfoy.

The twin’s prank mishaps forced Molly to shave them completely bald 137 times and counting. She’s surprised the hair even got the time to grow.

Ron is the victim of pranks. No long hair for him either. The amount of stuff in those.

Ginny is Molly’s treasure. As in, Molly taught her all the self-defence tricks she can use only in certain circumstances. Ginny would bite her brothers if they so much as went close to her hair. She can, will, and is fully ready to retaliate in the worst way possible if the twins took even an inch of her well-groomed hair. She wants to be allowed to do things like them, not be considered another son.

4> Messy love

Amrod looked at Molly and it was love at first sight.

Molly just thought he was a cute pile of mess trotting around her but too shy to say something. Pulling him into that cabin was a good call.

His courting gift was a modified cassette player that played the cheekiest love song there was at the time. Molly was ecstatic.

5> Older brother childcare

Bill witnessed all pregnancies.

Charlie doesn’t know how to raise children. Percy was a mystery to figure out, and at some point, Charlie just tended to think of looking after his siblings like caring for Magical Creatures after the third year.

Somehow, it works out. Bill was too preoccupied with his own studies to notice Charlie has been keeping twins in a cage, Percy on a leash and bribing Ron with treats and affection. Ginny meanwhile spent her time with Luna.

Despite all of this, or maybe because of this, Ron’s favourite brother is Charlie.

Bill: *looks at the chaos*

Bill: All you had to do was to put them to sleep.

Bill: You literally had ONE job.

6> Begetting worries

 So, anyway, pregnancy with Celebrimbor did not go well. Like, for Curufin especially. His wife was fine. Curifin was the one who suffered. It would have been hilarious if they didn’t have a precedent who died to it. There were fears that Curufin might take off, the same way Míriel did, and the lot of them had a deep discussion about creating children and the state of fëa during it.

Curufin due to that, ended with just one son, and others were uncertain of having their own, seeing how Curufin, despite how his name describe him to be most alike to their father, had such a near death experience during it. And then Silmarils happened. :(

Ambarussa remember that moment too, and now Amrod’s sporting 12 children in total which is wild.

Chapter Text

“It’s not that we don’t appreciate your love story with our mother about how you conceived us, though you could have spared us details, seriously dad, and you should know, I’m glad you’re coming around talking about mom since she died. But what does you, being a creature of another world has to do with us?” Bill says carefully after listening to the story, as they sit around the table, not only their family but also Harry, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and to everyone’s shock, Hannah Abbott who looks as confused as them at being present.

“You should get to the point about us being stolen children.” Piped up Luna which Arthur, their dad, nods to.

Charlie spluttered. “What?” He looks about to question his own existence.

Hermione frowns at that, but Arthur shakes his head before she could speak. “Not any of us Weasleys, it’s-well… the rest of you.”

Everyone rose in protest. Vocally, Neville who found his courage in Hogwarts, while still hesitating sometimes, did straighten his spine to defend his blood. Arthur raises both his hands in placation. He wasn’t trying to accuse their parents; he was just stating the facts.

Amrod sighs, he looks as devasted as he feels. “I didn’t realize until recently, when they examined Molly’s body.” And thank Merlin, morgues gave out truthful and accurate examination unlike any other department in existence, Amrod swears by it. He’s glad he got there before the hunt for ‘all that threatened the ministry’ notice went out. “They found remains of Furnatur Sanguine in her body.” He finishes grimly.

Hermione and Bill gasped, clearly shocked at what they recognised as a very taboo thing. Hannah frowns, leaning in. Neville blanched, latin words still conveying the appropriate meaning.

“That’s illegal all around the world.” Hannah says, face grim. Admittedly, she didn’t know much about it, but having had a friend whose aunt was involved with law helped her understand this wasn’t something that sounded anywhere near legal.

“Wait, what are you all talking about?” Ron asked confused, emotion shared by others also, unknowing of the potion’s sinister nature. Hermione immediately jumped at the chance.

“Furnatur Sanguine is a potion that helps people conceive. Or at least it’s why it was advertised to do, in the past. When a chosen person is pregnant, half of the potion of Furnatur Sanguine is given to a pregnant woman to drink, and then the other half was to be drunk by another woman that wants to be pregnant. The pregnancy would switch, effectively making the former witch lose their child. It was outlawed because you don’t make your own child, but you practically steal one while still a foetus, effectively performing a bloodline theft. Which it was renamed for. But- you mean sir, that some of your children were stolen? That’s horrible!  Who would do that?!” she demanded, realizing just how screwed up it was.

“Apparently, the healer that took care of Molly during her harder pregnancies thought we wouldn’t miss some.” Amrod replies bitterly. Everyone recoiled at that with visible disgust. Hannah gasps in shock, her eyes widening. Everyone else seemed just as shocked. “It makes sense now that I think about it, as after the birth of twins, we had a healer we could- we thought to trust, and then the odd things started to happen. Starting with Ron being born so small. And then the false pregnancy-” And yes, it still bugged him to this day, as Molly’s belly was big for such a small baby.

“The corruption ran deeper than I thought.” Bill says, grim. Then he looks around and realizes- “Does that mean-” His eyes widen.

Arthur- Amrod, nods. “I checked from the healer. I tracked down who all took the potion with…little persuasion.” Everyone ignored that bit. “The families are Abbott, Potter, Granger, Longbottom and Lovegood.” Hence why they were all here.

An uncomfortable silence is only broken up by Hermione’s rapid reasoning and defence of her own parents.

“My parents are muggle. And I look nothing like you.” Hermione disagreed.

Ron nods along. If only because they dated for a while and- well, Merlin just no. Of course, it didn’t work out and they think each other siblings now, but the dating history would go from awkward to eww really quick if this was true. (Later, he would thank Merlin for making them too busy and exhausted with Horcruxes that furthering their relationship was skipped to siblinghood immediately, before it got more...er.)

The twins also agreed. “Got no Weasley red hair.”

“And definitely no one has our beauty Weasley freckles.” Finishes the other.

Amrod nods, because it was, unfortunately as much as it pains him, true. “Psychically, you look like their child, as the potion intends, but by blood and soul, you were sired by us. Me and Molly. Luna was- Luna was born in between Ron and Ginny. I remember going with Molly towards the- healer.” Their father, who was normally hard to anger, spat the word like venom. “And we left with what they called mind made pregnancy. I- we never realised we left the medical ward with a child less. More than once.” He adds grimly.

Luna nods along, solemn looking. “Until now.”

Amrod agrees in the heavy silence. Everyone is horrified. Justly so. “Until now.”

Ron blinks, realising something. “Blimey, but what about us?”

Ginny on the other side groans. “Does that mean I’m still the youngest? I don’t want to be the youngest.” She pouts.

Percy spluttered. “That’s what you think that matters?”

Ginny shrugs. “Luna and I are already sisters. And Hermione was family even before the war. Harry too. And Neville’s great. And Hannah’s isn’t the worst that could have happened. She’s great actually. Likes quidditch too. And this house needs girls. What, you would have liked Malfoy as our brother?”

Ron openly shudders at that.

Meanwhile, Neville remembers Ron’s question. “Ron’s right.” Ron mouthed silently those words in the background. “But what about us? What are we? We weren’t born the same day.” Though he and Harry were very close to date by a day.

Hermione comes with the explanation.

“There’s no need to. There are accounts of the potion being given at later date as it expires only once the foetus reaches 9 months.” Which means plenty of time. “Besides, if we were born as quintuplets, we definitely would’ve been born premature if we went the traditional way.”

“We’re quintuplets?” Hannahs wonders aloud, gasping. “That’s amazing!” Five is also quite a magical number!

“Not amazing.” Charlie said harshly. “They stole our family.”  He practically growls at that. At that reminder, Hannah’s face fell.

“None of them knew.” Their father assures them noticing their dismay. “They just one day came to the healer, looking for help conceiving but they never sought the potion, never that.” Amrod says firmly. “All of your parents were unaware of the nature of the potion they were given.”

Hermione hesitates a bit before speaking up. “What about mine?”

Amrod paused, hesitantly answering. “They met once, where they talked a bit. They were obliviated right after.” Because as much as it stings having his children stolen and raised by someone else, they were undoubtedly loved. By their other parents, that is. It’s not their fault after all, it’s the goddamn healers.

It quelled their fears and worries but there was still a phantom heaviness lingering. “Why are you talking about it now? It doesn’t change anything, not anymore.” One of them asks, not quite sure which.

All of them were already adults or close enough to be.

“I thought about it. I really did, once I realised, since Molly-died, and then discovered this I thought- I thought about taking you away. All of you. If you’ll have me.” Especially since they were alone. Neville’s grandmother died, Hannah is also orphaned as is Harry, Luna is as good as, given Xenophilius’s current condition, and Hermione’s parents weren’t going to remember ever, for their safety.

What was there to miss in this world anymore, all loved ones gone and once again being flailed as public enemies?

Hannah stirred uncomfortably. “You don’t even know me.” She whispers.

Amrod wishes he could say something against that. Sure, she looked nothing like them, and he barely knows her, but he’d seen her during the war. Seen her as she tended to the injuries of the fallen, and kind and optimistic demeanour during the fights. He cannot claim to love her immediately, but the seed is there, and what there is a speck of, can grow to be the love of a parent Hannah should have had, always.

“You remain my child still.” He says, convinced. They have enough time hopefully an eternity to get to know each other.

“But where would we go?” Neville asks. “There’s nowhere we can hide anymore. The whole world wants to kill us...”

Bill catches on narrowing his eyes at his father, connecting what hasn’t been said. His eyes widen as he connects the dots. “Unless you’re planning to go to a different world altogether.”

Hermione gasps. “Your story!” She too, realized what he was hinting at.

Amrod nods. “I believe I found a way home.” To Valinor. Now if his children follow him there...

“But- It’s a whole world away. We’ll have to leave everything… behind.” Hannah protests, last words landing weakly. What was to leave behind anyway?

“Not everything. There’s still us, right?” Ron denies vehemently. Because well, the whole war did bring them all closer. And he would never leave family behind. And he doesn’t have to, with this opportunity. “I wouldn’t mind going.”

“But Ron!” Gasped Hermione. “Leaving this world altogether?”

“Listen, we’re on the run, and bloody everyone is after us. I mean, the world’s gone nutters already. Why shouldn’t we leave?” Ron retorts.

Nobody had an answer for that.

“But we’re mortal.” Harry says firmly. So he remembered that bit.

“Here.” Amrod interjects. “I have a… running theory for that.” That pertained their blood, space and universe theory but if he was right-

Mortality may not pull them apart.

They all look at each other.

Amrod swallows. "Will you at least- consider it?"

They look at each other in silence before looking back at him, a bit uncertain, but decided. "I don't think there is a need to, not anymore."

_______________________________________

"In conclusion, we need to rob a muggle library." Harry summarised. Hermione's passionate speech didn't steer him form the whole point.

Ron blinked. "I'm sorry. Did you just say-"

"We're not really robbing them. I'm just saying, we need to copy all the books that are in the muggle library. I mean, I never realized just how much I've lost since going to Hogwarts, innocence notwithstanding. There's just so much more to read in there. I've got a permanent duplication charm we could use." Hermione insisted. Apparently, the prospect of leaving forever, awakened in her a sense of compulsive hoarding because, of course, she needed to take everything with them. Including muggle literature and whatnot. She was worse than during the Horcrux hunt.

They should have expected that since the camping.

"I'm pretty sure that's still illegal somewhere." Ron mock-whispered to Harry. Harry snickered, the jinx form Hermione being totally worth it.

"Not for muggle books." Chirped unhelpfully Hannah beside them, random knowledge appearing every now and then from her friendship with Susan. Hermione beamed at her.

"Exactly! Everything of use needs to come with us. What we can take, we will take." The determined look made the two of the boys look at each other in concern.

“Right… What are the others doing?”

Hannah perked up. “Oh, Neville and I are gathering our now combined collections of plants. Bill's going to make us trunks to keep things in, I think. He's also working with- dad, on the transportation runes." Hannah answers, rolling the title of dad on her tongue. It was a big change, but she was determined to get used to it. Much more determined than others who still felt a bit iffy about the whole ordeal. "Charlie has been taking all sorts of animals with him. I think he's been contemplating taking endangered species too. Percy stocking parchment, quills, ink and- well, everything that involves writing. Twins are helping Bill. Luna and Ginny are stocking up potions. I think one of you is going to have to work with Bill and the other help Hermione.” She looked expectantly at them.

The two stared at each other before playing rock-paper-scissors, which Ron won.

Ron looked rather happy with the turn of events. “Well mate, Bill’s on you. He’s even worse than Hermione when he gets around runes. And I’m not spending the rest of our week listening to that.”

_____________________________

Ron turned out to be absolutely right as he got pulled into helping Bill. Harry later found out, his only job is ‘to be a living magical battery' which was actually a really taxing job and that he's completely drained only to do the same thing the very next day.

He was currently bedridden, feeling like he was once again in 6^th year, suffering aftermaths of being drunk.

"Don't be discouraged." Said Bill sitting next to him, who was probably working on 3 projects at the same time. Occasionally, he would stop and show some notes to Harry, notes that made his head turn and all he could do was awkwardly nod and desperately hope it won’t explode on them later. All around his bed were multiple sheets of parchment, each scribbled with equations that made no sense to him whatsoever.

"You're not the one feeling exhausted after one day.” Harry grumbled sinking onto the bed.

Bill laughed at that. “Harry, an average wizard would have dropped after an hour and had to recover for a few days. You recover in 8 hours and last for a whole day.” Harry was magically powerful. That was just a fact everyone accepted.

Harry fell strangely silent.

Bill paused his erratic writing, looking over Harry who had closed eyes. “Harry?”

A pause.

“Don’t you blame me sometimes?” Harry asks finally. “For what happened to your family?”

“Our.” Bill corrects him, putting his quill down. “And unless I missed you having us at a wand point, then no, there’s nothing I could blame you for.”

“You’re fugitives.”

“By our own choice.” Bill replies. For some unfathomable reason to Harry, Bill grew serious, making him slightly tense at the attention he was given.

“Because you’re with me.” Harry says, growing visibly upset.

“Because we refuse to listen to fraudulent accounts on things that never happened. And I wouldn’t ever desert family.” He says firmly. There was a certain power behind his voice, a certainty, that accompanied those words which made Harry swallow.

“We weren’t back then.” Harry whispers. Did that bit truly matter that much?

Bill straightened, his eyes boring onto Harry’s, burning onto his head. “Harry, by the letters mom sent us, you practically became family the moment Ron asked for an extra sweater for you.”

“I always wanted a big family.” Harry confesses into the quiet. It was true, he wanted sisters, brothers, older, younger and parents that would all love each other, and he could love.

“And you have. There’s 12 of us.” Bill smiled ruefully. “You’re going to miss solidarity real soon.” Honestly, having 6 siblings was already a lot. 11 will be a madhouse. Good thing they were all grown past the age of needing constant supervision. At least that’s what Bill tells himself to sleep well at night.

Harry doesn’t feel like laughing. It felt like a dream. And he’s still deciding whether it’s a good one or not. “What if- what if it’s all a mistake? And I’m not really related to any of you?” Because that alone would probably break him where his death would not. They were a family. A real, tangible one. How cruel would it be, if their… if Arthur came back and told them in his usual jolly voice that it was some prank? Perhaps, a mistake? He wouldn't be able to stand that if it was.

“First off, if not, you’re definitely still related to us somewhere down the line.” Bill says, reminding him of all the uncomfortably close relations everyone had. “Second, even if, by chance, we weren’t related at all, you’re undoubtedly family. If it weren’t for us thinking you needed the protections your former living place had, we would have taken you in, in a heartbeat.” Actually, he has opinions about that, not nice, but what’s done is done.

“... What do you think she would say about this?” Harry asks.

Both of them knew who he was talking about.

“Mom? Well, she would be rightly furious about this. Probably would have maimed the healer that did this. Disintegrated his bollocks like she did to that babysitter once. But after? She would be delighted to have more children to care about.” Bill says it with so much conviction Harry can’t help but believe in it too.

Harry thinks about her, her kind face and smile and the time she sent him food during his holidays and thinks how different it would be if he knew, hell, even a year earlier than this. Would she have welcomed him? He imagines her hug, once imagining what it would be if his real mom hugged him, if it would feel like this, except Molly Weasley is his mom and her hugs are warm and full of love he wishes he got to enjoyed them longer.

“I wish I knew it earlier.” Harry says. What did she like, besides knitting and cooking? How would she act, now that it appears he’s her real son? Would she have loved him the same way as the others?

He closes his eyes, imagining being a part of the Weasley table, one of them, with red hair and all, and with Molly- his mom, chiding them for whatever reason, and aches. That could have been. But he’ll never know now.

“Not everything is lost Harry. We still have the rest of our lives to get to know each other like siblings.” Bill promises, and Harry hopes- he hopes that it’ll work out. That he’s right- Now he got one big family, and he doesn’t know if he knows how to be part of it.

___________________________________

“My dad died too young for me to know them.” Hannah says as she and Long- Neville, are storing away the things they took. “Only my mom talked about him before she too, died.”

Because it was acceptable to still think other people her parents as they raised her.

Neville nodded beside her. “My gran, also.”

“They’re dead now.” She says softly, her hand slightly shaking but gripping her plant firmly still.

Neville’s breath hitches. His gran, also.

“I don’t want to stay here, not anymore.” Hannah continues sadly but determined to go to the next world. “Do you?”

Neville thinks about it. Ignoring the fact, he was a child of someone else, his gran was dead as were his parents now, and everyone that he cares and care about him are leaving him. He would rather follow than be left in this cold, cold world all alone with no one to lean on.

“What do you think about Arthur being our dad?” He asks instead of answering.

It was hard to think him as their father let alone call him dad.

“He showed me the evidence.” Hannah says softly. “Factually and by blood, he is our father.” Everything he presented was plausible and true and no one could refute it after they’d seen the evidence. “He’s kind. From what I heard, and what I see, he really is. And… I’m willing to give that a chance.”

“And- and how are you feeling?” Neville asks, uncertain.

Hannah takes her time before answering. Before she answers she takes out more books about plants and whatnot, stashing them into her trunk just as Neville was storing newly bought plants into appropriate enclosures. If Hogwarts was standing- well, there would be no question on what they would be stealing then.

“I need time. Time to come to terms I’m no longer an Abbott, and that I’m a Weasley and that I have many, many siblings. Time to get to know them, and my dad. But- I would rather do that, than stay here. And I know, somewhere deep down, It’s the right decision to make.”

She looked at Neville her face kind. “You don’t need to go.” She says to him seriously. It was a decision; decision she made for herself. And Neville shouldn’t feel pressured to say yes but find it in himself if he sees future for himself away from hitwizards from every corner.

Neville shakes his head. “I want to.”

“I want to.”

Because he wishes for that too.

__________________________________

“How are you feeling?” Percy awkwardly asks Hermione, after she came back with a deceptively small trunk that probably had several libraries stored inside.

“Amazing actually. The wizarding world doesn’t even have that many books as there! Millions of books! Millions Percy!”

Percy looked taken aback. Millions? That’s a phenomenal number-

Wait.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Hermione’s face immediately fell. Her face looks pinched. “I don’t know.” She pensively paused. “Did you know twins have a psychical bond?”

Percy nodded. It was hard not to notice with how the twins seemed to know everything the other knew.

“Me, Harry, Ron, Hannah and Neville are quintuplets, but we don’t have such thing.” Hermione says, visibly upset.

Oh.

Percy swallowed. “The potion-”

“I know. But it feels unfair. I love my parents. I do, but I lost my siblings like that. And I read how important the mental link is, and Fred and George say that they wouldn’t be the same without the other. What if, because of that potion, we lost something of ourselves?” She keeps frowning. “What if by dividing us, a piece of our soul was irreparably torn from us? What if we’re completely different from what we should have been? Ron was born prematurely from the stress of being alone.” Or that was the running theory.

Percy swallows. “We cannot undo it. But is it the only thing you worry about? Not- being part of our family?” Aren’t you filled with doubts?

Hermione paused. She looked at Percy in hesitation. “You mind us?”

“Merlin no! I just thought... If someone told me, I was someone else’s child I wouldn’t have taken it well.” Percy says hastily.

Hermione relaxes at that. “Ron and Harry were already family to me. Before we were on the run, back when they saved me from the troll, they were just that for me. I’m not saying it’s not- weird, me and Ron dated, but this is rather tame for what happened to us these last years.”

Percy couldn’t agree more. He also grimaces at the fact his siblings dated. Not knowingly, but still.

“Actually, I think I have an idea on how to reverse the potion. What do you think?” Hermione asks as she hands him a piece of a very, very long parchment.

Now, Percy wasn’t the best to go for emotional things but work? He’s brilliant at that.

_______________________________________

“I dated Hermione.” Ron says aghast, remembering those now completely ruined memories. He’s going to forever be haunted by these. There is a line between uncomfortably close and so close you should stop right about now.

Fred shrugs. “Can’t say that ever happened to us Ronnie.”

“With our good looks and good sense,” Fred started, the two of them passing through.

“We wouldn’t make such a mistake such as date our sister.” Finishes George with a loud gag. “By the way, Ron, catch! And don’t you drop Jorge on the floor!”

Ron rolled his eyes as he caught a jar with his keeper reflexes. At least somebody was enjoying themselves while he was second guessing all his decisions.

Speaking of which.

“Jorge?” Ron asks aloud. The twins were already gone by that time, leaving him alone. He looks at the jar again.

The jar contained a single ear floating in liquid, labelled Jorge.

Jorge.

George.

J-orge.

JAR GEORGE.

…

Somewhere in the background, Ron groaned.

_______________________________________

Ginny in comparison, had a much easier interaction.

“We’re Irish twins.” Ginny announced. “Sisters.” At least to her, it was close enough. And it was great.

Luna smiles and agrees, as they join hands.

“We need to prank the twins to make this official after this is over.” Ginny announced loudly.

“Maybe we can throw nargles at them.” Suggests Luna, squeezing her hand.

Ginny gives her a fond smile. “Maybe.” She always thought that about Luna as a sister but now, it was real.

She leans, whispering into Luna’s ear. “You’re my favourite sister Luna.”

Luna’s absentminded gaze looked much more present, and her smile seemed much delighted then.

______________________________

“Are we ready to go?” Arthur, Amrod, fretted. The runes were set up already and everything packed, but it would do to check again. After all, it was a one-way ticket. “Warming and cooling charms are on?”

Ron nods. At least on his side, all’s packed and charmed. “Everything’s done over here dad.”

“Twins?”

“Done and-”

“Ready.” One of the twins finished for the other.

Amrod surveyed others as they all gave their affirmation, they packed everything they could possibly have.

He took a deep breath.

“We’re never returning.” He warns them. “This is your last chance to leave.” He wouldn’t stop them.

He wouldn’t.

But it would still hurt to see them go.

No one asks to leave. Percy steps up. “Once we walk through, we might look different, some of the enchantments over our appearance will be torn apart by the transport and we will also experience the same thing as our dad, that is, our bodies adjusting to that world to fit in. I and Hermione also added something that reverse your looks. And as we discussed…Wands as a sacrifice.” The part of the ritual needed for each person an object soaked in their essence of soul. Each of them forlornly gave out their long-time wands, looking at them in grief. After all, those accompanied them for long. They hadn’t had time to properly mourn it though, as the transport was time sensitive.

The runes are set in place. Wands were prepared by the side. Charlie clutches a trunk that looks far too haggard to belong to the ones Bill enchanted and Harry, Ron and Hermione exchange looks, as the trunk reminds them of one Hagrid had. But dead people do not need trunks and animals need care so they remained silent despite the many doubts about the creatures kept in there.

They are here, in the night, where the moon’s silvery light shows the path towards a new tomorrow. Runes light up and one by one, their things disappear behind a mist, probably appearing on the other side.

Last baggage goes through the portal, and then, only they remain.

Arthur takes a deep breath. “It’s time for us to go too.”

Charlie goes first, and his wand snaps and burns. Then go the twins, Percy, Ron, Hermione, Hannah, Luna, Ginny and-

“Harry, It’s your turn.” Bill says, gently ushering him towards the circle.

“Oh, yeah… right.”

And so, Harry steps inside.

Stories and facts that did not make the cut but happened somewhere:

1> Unbreakable Vow

In canon, Arthur freaked out when he found the twins making Ron do an Unbreakable Vow. Here, it’s much more terrifying to Amrod as he catches them just in the right moment. He later takes to tell the kids the most gruesome stories pertaining Oaths since having wise things ingrained in stories is the way to go. It’s also where twins get the dark humour, and Ron gets his scepticism. Ginny due to her friendship with Luna who likes to recount of her mother’s remains, is unfazed.

2> Camping outside

Amrod hunted every now and then and the hunts could take decades and more. Humans, muggles especially, changed too much for him to keep up with. He lowkey went to a fifty yearlong seclusion in somewhere and came back to see-

“Electricity? What’s that?” Discovering the light bulb was a shock.

3> Family Fury

Amrod, explaining himself to his wife after creating another scene with Lucius Malfoy because he insulted his family.

“In my defence, my family isn’t known for keeping their tempers.” And the crack of Malfoy’s nose was very satisfying.

The silence is long. He squirms under her gaze.

“…  worth it.” He adds, already knowing he won’t get out of it. He’s still unrepentant. Given Molly cooked his favourite dish that day, she wasn’t as angry as she acted to be.

4> Flat romance

Despite Amrod being immortal, and Molly not, their romance went without hitch in that aspect.

Molly: If you’re still in love with me once I’m a shrunk raisin, make sure that I die with a smile on my face. *winks flirtatiously*

Amrod: *spluttering* Molly wHat thE fuCk-

Chapter Text

“Did I die again? Are the others okay, sir? What happened?” Harry asks ‘Dumbledore’.

In his defence, he didn’t expect to wake up in a train station again. Hopefully, the runic circle didn’t go so terribly wrong that they all died, but the train station wasn’t really encouraging that thought.

“Not quite, Harry. Death takes no hold of you. And your family is quite safe on the other side.” Dumbledore shakes his head.

“Then-”

Harry stops.

Stares. And continues to stare into the emptiness of the train station. It’s quiet. Far too quiet.

Empty where it shouldn’t. Something’s missing. Someone’s missing. (Though, was he still someone, with so little parts leftover?)

“He’s not here.” Harry says, looking for the small, deformed form of Tom that just didn’t pop up anywhere.

Dumbledore nods pleased that he noticed.

“Indeed, he is not, Harry.” He answers, cryptic as ever.

“But I thought- I thought he couldn’t- leave.” Harry can sleep soundly because of that. Was that- Does that mean Voldemort, once again, found some ludicrous way to alive himself? Come back? Again???

“Not quite come back.” ‘Dumbledore’ says, as if reading his thoughts. “Yes, he couldn’t leave the way others do. But he can be forced to leave. Not through the train mind you, but leave, yes. And believe me, existing less than a soul within nothingness is not an existence worth being.” Somehow, he sounded odd.

“Where is he now? Since when he was gone?” Harry asks. How could he even leave from here?

The old man cocks his head. Somehow, it doesn’t feel reassuring. “In custody again. It has been a long time since you visited these Halls, Harry.”

Confusion paints his face. “It has been a year. And what do you mean by that?” It wasn’t that long.

“For you. Like your death, did it not last for a little less than 15 seconds?” He asks, not expecting an answer from Harry.

He’s been dead for 15 seconds? Who even checks the time? Harry wonders but not-Dumbledore continues talking.

“Time is not of linear sequence outside of the living planes of mortals. Right now, we could be in the past, or even far future. This space isn’t tied to such trivial things. Long did Tom wander, hopelessly, aimlessly in nothingness, until mercy had been bestowed onto him.” He says, making less and less sense.

Harry blinked, noticing that ‘Dumbledore’ changed his way of speech, no longer resembling that of the real deceased Dumbledore. What happened about ‘Maybe it’s all in your head’, way of speaking?

“A new purpose served onto him, and for long did he fulfill his role but then once again, he had taken the dark path. Once again, he had forsaken rules of free will, in search of power.” The mysterious old man shook his head. Now that Harry bothered to look closer, face of Dumbledore started to shift, subtly, but visibly so. “And as he gathered his forces and spit his powers in half-”

Hey, wait a second-

“He was defeated once for all, not to gain third mercy ever again.” Dumbledore finishes, looking gravely at Harry.

“He’s dead again?” Harry asked confusedly. What did this mean? He then squints suspiciously. “And why did it sound like another horcrux?” Please say no, Harry thinks despairingly, I don’t want to do this again.

Dumbledore smiled, but there was nothing kind in them, and no twinkles shone from his eyes. “While he did try.” He said, and Harry recoiled from the sheer contempt. “There is not much left of him to split.”

The not-Dumbledore shook his head. “He will never come to any sort of power again, anyhow.”

Harry blinked. “But you didn’t say he’s-”

And then Harry once again, and quite abruptly, woke up to his family calling him.

_______________________________________________________

“Harry! Are you alright? You were out cold when we arrived!” Hermione asked, violently shaking him as he woke up in a patch of thick snow.

“I’m… fine. Just… uh, I guess I’m not into this kind of travel.” Harry grimaces, the memory of the previous conversation still lingering in his head. The dream felt so… clear. This was the second time this happened, and it was even more confusing than the previous encounter with the weird not-Dumbledore. Though he did have a hunch about who was behind the appearance of his old Headmaster but entertaining that thought? He’s fine denying.

Ron concernedly patted his back. “Harry, I don’t think any magical travel besides brooms is ‘your’ kind of travel.” He says remembering Harry’s fiasco with Floo-powder.

“Never mind that!” Hermione interrupted them. “Did none of you notice we’re shrunk?!” She waved her hand. Small hand.

“E-either that or everything is really tall.” Neville agreed, curiously inspecting finding some sort of nut under the snow and gesturing Hannah closer to see.

“They must have had a hard time growing here.” Neville whispers to her.

He’d never seen this variety anywhere in plant encyclopaedias. Before anyone could notice, Neville inconspicuously found himself some more of these nuts and swiftly hid them behind his clothes with Hannah enthusiastically encouraging him.

Harry stared at the two for a while before looking around himself.

Harry finally noticed the dreadful cold around him, heavy snow covering the plains nearby, and nowhere in distance was there seen anything else but pure white and high mountains. They were inside a valley. A very well-hidden valley. Charlie, percy and the twins were farther away from them, looking around too.

Harry slowly got up, noting, in a dizzying way, his sense of height changed. “We’re really small.” He says, almost baffled. Unlike Polyjuice, this felt…different. Weird, but not exactly…wrong.

“Younger you mean.” Hermione corrected. “I can feel my fat cheeks. Others also became much younger. I wonder why, none of our runes were meant to make us children.” She was of course, right. He finally noticed how they had slightly chubbier statue and other’s much more rounder cheeks.

“Where’s dad? And Bill?” Harry asks.

“Bill and dad should be here shortly!” Charlie replied from distance. The twins and Percy were also doing something far away from them, they looked smaller, too. Not short after saying that, Bill appeared.

Now that Harry had time to reorient himself, being younger wasn’t the only thing that changed. Others did too, in their looks.

Hermione’s hair now turned burgundy red, while Luna had the lightest hair of them, bordering blonde. Neville’s former blonde hair now was now of a peach colour. Even Hannah had a shade of red in her hair. That, and everyone had freckles. Harry absently touched his hair, his once raven black hair now seemed to reflect in the light, in a dark red hue. As he inspected his hair, they slowly found his way to his pointed ears. Not only him but others also did so when they saw him do that.

Ginny sighs. “This is so weird. It’s like we all became house-elves.” She then sinks onto the thick layer of snow. Huh… where’s-

“Where’s Luna?” Harry asks suddenly, noticing her missing.

“Sunk under.” Ginny pats at a sunken snow crater next to her.

“Which begs another question.” Hermione said, frustrated. “Why are we just lying on top of the snow?”

Before they could question that, a lump of mist gathers around one point from which a figure stepped out of. The twins took no time to identify who it was.

“Hey dad!” Fred from the distance calls to the misty figure.

“You’re not balding anymore.” Says George, both splitting into identical grins.

Their dad immediately reached to touch his head and yes, there was a clasp of hair there instead of a shiny spot. Of course, it wasn’t the only thing that changed.

Hannah blinked, observing the different figure, tall, thin, muscled and his face was all angles but no roundness to it. “Our dad’s hot!” She blurted without thinking. Indeed, their father was without doubt good looking. Now it very much explained why Bill looked good despite not getting his mother’s genes.

Ron gagged. “Hannah! That’s our dad!”

Ginny split into a grin. “And Hermione’s our sister, didn’t you also-” Hermione threw a snowball at her. It didn’t stop the youngest Wesley from laughing even under the snow.

“That.” She starts. “We will never talk about. Never.” It will stay buried forever. Ron nodded beside her, also wanting to bury these memories five feet under. Or wipe his memory, whichever works best to pretend that never happened.

“Everyone’s alright? No one’s lost?” Their dad shouted bringing attention back to him. Everyone replied yes at that. Arthur, Amrod sighed in visible relief.

“Good.” He looks around himself. He looks thoughtful, also realising how good this location was. Not for normal people, no, but they were witches, and if Drumstag’s existence taught them something, it’s that no cold is too cold for a wixen.

“We’re staying here, aren’t we?” Bill commented dryly, but there was also a light to his eyes, as if recognising something good in this valley.

Amrod nodded, satisfied with wherever they were. It took aback others, though.

“Right here?” Charlie asked, surprised. In the middle of nowhere?

“It’s the right place.” Amrod insisted. “Trust me.”

Bill cocked his head, considering his father and the place. “Well, it’s not the worst view from here.”

The place was conveniently shielded by mountains, and-

“It reminds me of Hogwarts.” Harry says into it. In a dreadful kind of way. Instead of ash, it was painted white by the snow, but the desolate look was the same as Hogwarts after the war. Lifeless, empty. Even the white wasn’t as much as beautiful as much as oppressing. But everything can be rebuilt. Changed.

Of course, it lacked a few things-

“We can make it home.” Bill says with a smile, shaking Harry form his stupor.

He slowly nods. Yes, they can make it home.

By the way…

“Why are we tiny?” Charlie asks what everyone wondered about. Everyone noticed. Bill looked like he was 14, Charlie looked 12, Percy looked 10 and the twins had an age of 8-year-olds. Meanwhile the quintuplets of them looked like 6-year-olds with Ginny and Luna looking like 4.

Amrod seemed to have a theory about that. “I have a guess just like I adapted to your world, you did too, to mine. You look what I’d expect for a bit older elflings but far too young for wixen.” He says frowning. Maybe them adjusting also meant their age?

Bill snapped his fingers. “It must’ve been our travel that triggered the change!”

“That’s great and all but isn’t it a little inconvenient?” Charlie says. “We’re half our original size.” He looks sideways at the youngest of them. “Well, most of us.”

Ginny threw her fist out of the snow. “I heard that!”

“Well, we can’t do anything now. Ageing potions are only temporary, and overdosing can be dangerous. The safest option would be to grow it out.” Amrod says decisively, which Hermione vigorously nodded to. She started to mutter the side-effects under her breath causing the nearby Ron and Neville to blanch at the graphic descriptions.

Ron audibly swallowed. “Yeah, I think I can wait a few years to be big again.”

Amrod winced. “About that…”

__________________________________________________________

“So, our concerning aging aside, do we even have the right material to start creating the house?” Hermione asked after a very concerning revelation about aging, chastity and various other most important customs. Well, not all might apply to them, but it still was useful to know some. It also explains why Bill and Charlie were until now under an assumption marriage was some blood oath and tying of two souls and making children was a sacrifice of being. How Charlie fell for that despite caring for animals no one knows.("Dad sounded really convincing, okay?!")

They already had tents made around them, but it was about time to set some starting stones. At least warming runes were on around, though they did discuss the lack of seasons in Aman with their father who also looked thoughtful at that. The snow would take some time to melt too, especially as they stretched their border from the valley ends so they could fill it with forest trees later.

“Yeah, did anyone pack stones?” Hermione asks, much to bewildered looks of everyone. Really. Them carrying rocks? And she had the audacity to look disappointed at them.

Hermione sighs. “I wish we had a map so we could just summon some rocks from somewhere. Or packed them.” She adds, as if packing rocks was some sort of gross oversight. Of course, summoning charms tend to be wacky and unless they knew exactly what it was, and where it is, they might as well as rob a standing house off its boulders without knowing.

“Wait! I have sand.” Hannah exclaims, an idea forming in her head.

Ron stared at her deadpan. “Great, we have sand. Surely enough to make pyramids-”

Hermione whacked Ron hard, before smiling blindingly at Hannah. Ron groans from under.

“That’s just perfect! We don’t have to spend all our energy on cutting rocks from nearby mountains then! I have packed several dozen Swelling potions so we can just enlarge them. Where did you get the idea?” Ron beside her looked bewildered by the revelation Hermione just happened to pack a dozen of the same potion.

Hannah blushed at the question. “Well, my mom and I used to travel a lot during the holidays, and I happened to collect some of the sands from the beaches we visited. Turns out it’s useful to have now.”

She went onto one of the marked trunks and revealed a decent size of a collection of sands.

Charlie frowned. “Is that alright? They’re memories.”

“It’s fine.” Reassures them Hannah with a reminiscing smile. “They would be of use, at least.” With her agreement, their lot started planning.

Bill looked them over before thinking over something, realizing the project of their house was far larger than anticipated. “How big do you want our house to be?”

“Big.” Replied at the same time Charlie, Hermione, twins and Neville. They look at each other, mutual agreement reached.

“Hagrid left me his animals. We need a really big place to leave them to roam in.” Charlie adds in unashamedly admitting to Hagrid’s trunk content. At least he has no dragon hidden inside that, or so everyone prays.

“And we have a lot of plants. They can’t fit in one place.” Neville chimed in with Hannah nodding beside him. They too, managed to smuggle all the available plants. Of course, all that need vastly different temperatures to live in. And not only magical ones. When Amrod let it slip some plants, especially oriental ones, he’d never seen in Valinor, the kids decided to pack big.

“And we need a library.” Added Hermione. “A BIG library.”

Bill blinked at them incredulously. “You do know we’re talking about a house, right?”

Everyone nodded but did not back down. After all, at this point, why not just go free a bit on this?

Ginny nods. “Hogwarts was made by 4 wizards, there’s 13 of us here. And we have magic on our side. Back then they didn’t even have levitation charms to make their jobs easier.”

“Hogwarts didn’t start as a giant house.” Bill rebutted.

“Details, details, Bill.” Fred waved him away.

Luna, who was buried all this time under the snow popped out of it, smiling. “We just have to be brave enough to try.”

George nodded solemnly. “As our wise sister says, Bill.”

In short.

They were going big.

Meanwhile, Amrod was looking at his children with fondness. How long was it, that his children were carefree like this, together?

I wish Molly was here to see this.

________________________________________________________________

Turns out, the Swelling potions Hermione had along with the sand was enough for the whole house, probably, occupying them for a few weeks with cutting enlarged sand into right shape. Since Hannah took sand from various places, and none of them having the same shade, it was a guarantee the house will look quite…misshaped. Something common among Weasley houses.

Neville began sprouting his seeds already in preparation, and everyone chipped in on small details they wanted to have that they had to incorporate in the best way possible.

Percy looked over the papers of the house layout Bill made, questioningly. He read through the designs and had to make sure this was the right design Bill wanted. Because they seemed to change constantly.

“I get we are building from nothing but what’s that about hidden doors and rooms?” Percy asked, reading through the stack. It was also rather concerning how many versions it had, never setting on a particular architectural style.

Bill tiredly flashed him a smile from his makeshift desk. “For the aesthetics of course.”

“Aesthetics.” Repeated Percy face blank.

Bill rapidly nodded. “Upon further thought, I realized we are no different from wizards from ancient times. They also built magical places on a whim-” He threw some papers Percy’s way. It was true in a way, for wizards loved old homes. The magic within it is incomparable to any magical house made in modern time, because it hadn’t had the time to grow by itself long enough to be as impressive as old homes.

“I wouldn’t say this is out of whim, we’re currently homeless-”

Bill slams the table he has been working on, his eyes wild. “THAT’S WHY, we must match with them. Do you know how many magical houses were built this decade?”

He didn’t wait for Percy to reply. Percy might have had the answer though.

“None. Everything’s inherited, and spells that protect the place are the same, along with the either too dangerous or outdated curses holding them.” Bill jumped, looking excited instead of tired.

“But now, we have an opportunity to make our own house. Our own spells, modern runes holding the place, secret spaces, its own consciousness. Percy, we’re going to make our own tombs.”

Percy’s lips twitched with questions, mainly of why would we need tombs?

But Bill for once didn’t look terribly stressed but excited so Percy decided for once, to let things be. As long as the house of theirs doesn’t devour them, that is.

_________________________________________________________

Things and facts that are relevant to story or happened in it without being incorporated:

1> Like a certain Disney princess.

Amrod arrives last only to arrive to his children making a snowman.

“I hereby name you Olaf.” Percy said seriously, patting the snowman’s head.

“Welcome among us, Olaf.” The twins say unison, all three breaking into giggles.

Given the strained relationships they had war prior, this is a welcome sight.

2> It’s about what’s inside.

The lot of them stare at Charlie and the Cerberus in judgemental silence. The three-headed puppy wagged its tail, almost innocently looking at them.  Ron is the one to break the silence. “I kind of get Hagrid naming his hellhound Fluffy, but you named them Cookie?”

“Don’t judge a creature by its cover Ron.” He says, gently stroking the pup(s?).

“Oh no, I’m not judging them.”

Cookie is a Cerberus that Hagrid got from illegal breeding with a Golden retriever but his friendly nature and looks weren’t good for guarding treasure. It’s their dog now.

3>Shameless curiosity meets blunt answer.

“So, about you and Hermione, how far did you go?” Ginny asks.

Ron turned bright red, then a disgusted look, before he took a deep breath and looked deadpan at her to say: “I’m a virgin.” Without a shred of shame.

Amrod who overhears: “Speaking of which, let’s talk about how marriage works here-”

4>Check this out!

Ron when others are surprised they can walk on snow:

Ron looks at them strangely. “Of course, it’s normal. How would you walk anywhere during winter if you couldn’t? Can’t you just decide when you want and when you don’t?” He was met with blank stares of his new siblings.

Amrod blinks, huh. He knew he forgot something while sending his kids to school.

“Actually, I may be a few years overdue but-”

5> Red-Hair Weasleys

“So, dad, why do we all have red hair? Because blood doesn’t work like that.” Hermione asked, pulling a 50-page essay why their genetic hair was an atrocity to humanity and made no sense. “You told us, grandmother from your side had brown hair and some of your family got red hair because great-grandfather had them. Grandfather had black hair, and his mom had white hair and they got passed down…dad, why do we all have red hair?” Because the sudden change was really jarring.

All fair arguments but she forgets-

“You forgot genes work a little different in magical community. And for elves for that matter.” Amrod patiently explains. “As in, besides freckles, the Prewett’s also had a dominant red hair magical gene. That’s actually how your Molly’s second cousin got outed as a Squib as soon as he was born. No magical red hair, no magic at all.” Amrod smiled. “You didn’t think I’d question as Percy came as third redhead? Two’s a coincidence but three’s a pattern.”

Hermione frowned. “That squib relative…” She shoots him a questioning look, worry evident in her eyes. After all, everyone knew how squibs live.

“Ah. Him.” Amrod grimaced. “From what Molly told me, there was no actual problem with him being a squib but his… personality. From his very birth she likes to say. You see, he tended to act like he was victim of bad birth, never apologized for his mistakes, blamed everyone but himself, and always made things about himself, beside criticizing everyone nearby. I think the whole being a squib got into his head. In a ‘always a victim’ way.”

The nearby Ron snorted. “Sounds like even worse than aunt Muriel.”

Amrod agreed. “Worse, way worse. You see, at a wedding of Molly’s other 2^nd cousin, he pushed the bride onto the cake before throwing liquor at the groom. Apparently, he got an issue with not being the center of attention. That, was what got him written off, of the family. Not, being a squib.

Bobby Prewitt, 3^rd cousin of Molly’s also happens to be a squib and she’s fine. We don’t talk about her that often as we’re too far away related, and you lot like to remember the second cousin because Bill, Charlie and Percy were there on the wedding to see that disaster. Of course, they had stories to tell about that, but not completely accurate. Molly hates false stories spreading, especially about family, so that’s why the ban of speaking about it, because who knows what the twins could come up with if they had the chance.”

“We have more squib family members?” Ron asked, taken aback.

“We have branches.” Amrod reveals to the bewildered boy.

6>Seasonal

Valinor doesn’t change seasons here. If you want a change in seasonal scenery, you have to walk to the place where the season ‘resides’. In the middle of Valinor and, cities and such, there is permanent Summer, the Halls of Mandos look like a place filled with permanent Fall, while Forest of Orome is fashioned by Spring. The far borders on north lack any light and it’s cold but like, not even water is there, it’s desolate, while in far South, where Weasleys are and Formenos is close by, there is permanent Winter.

Chapter Text

“It’s different from Hogwarts.” Amrod says. They’re far from done but some wards were already placed over the territory. The snow was melting near the borders allowing Neville to start putting his trees and for Hannah to start potting her own medicinal plants into the soil. It was obvious that while they wanted to take inspiration from Hogwarts with much less people living here, it would look much different. He had no doubt their house will be much more magical than Hogwarts was, at its beginnings, if his children have their way.

Wait.

“Neville?”

“Y-yes, d-dad?” Amrod paused.

Dad.

Yes, he was. Of 12 children. Where does one even begin with that revelation?

“I- Where did you get that Malinornë sapling?” He asks, because there was no doubt that the small tree branching and sprouting from various spells and fertilizers could be anything but the trees exclusive to his world. And oddly very far away from where it’s supposed to grow.

Neville blinked but visibly relaxed when he realized it’s about plants. He really needs to warm Neville up to him. “The what?” He asks curiously.

Amrod points out at the Malinornë he was growing right now.

“That.”

Neville’s face lights up at that. “That’s a Malinornë? I found some nuts nearby, not even Hannah knows what it is; what kind of tree is it? How tall do they grow?” He bombarded him with questions.

How do you find Malinornë nuts in the middle of nowhere?!

Still, Amrod obliges indulgently, reminiscing about the trees. “Malinornës are tall trees, tallest of all the kinds there are,” Amrod remembers, the time spent under them, repeating words verbatim. “, its bark is smooth and silver-grey, and the leaves are green on top and silver underneath; they turned golden in autumn and remained on the tree through the winter to fall to cover the ground in the spring, when new leaves sprouted. Golden flowers bloomed on the branches. The wood was so strong it could hold many times it’s weight, making it an ideal kind of tree to build tree houses on.”

It was one of the things he missed while on Earth, where under those golden trees, he made cherished memories with his family, longing not once that he could make more of them with his own made family.

Neville’s eyes were shining, probably imagining a forest full of them. “That’s amazing.”

“Isn’t it?” Amrod smiles. Of course, plants of the wizarding world held its own charms, albeit some more fatal than others.

Speaking of plants.

“Do you want to hear about magical plants native to Arda?” The shy smile Neville, his son, made was blinding.

Hannah was happy to learn of the various plants from Neville later.

_______________________________________________________

“So, while our dad is bonding with Neville, let’s talk about a lake.” Fred starts.

“There’s going to be no lake.” Percy says deadpan.

“Beep-, opinion rejected, anyway, how deep?” George waves away Percy’s comment, who only rolled his eyes in good nature.

“Lake deep?” Harry says, which gets chuckles from everyone.

“Wait, why do we need a lake anyway?” Hannah asks puzzled. “Can’t we just conjure water and then make it self-refillable?”

“Bathing during summer?” Fred threw.

“Your plants?” George immediately followed.

Hannah could admit that both she and Neville had lots of plants. Though she was planning to hand some over to Neville so she could focus more on learning healing…

“Water pets?” Everyone threw a dirty look at Charlie who looked thrilled at another place to let his pets stay at.

“All kinds of things.” They finished together.

“I swear, if we have grindylows…” Harry muttered.

To everyone’s relief, Charlie’s face fell at that. “Dad said no dark or demonic creatures…” He sighs. Everyone was visibly relieved.

“Are we ignoring Neville is making a second forbidden forest, also with sentient plants?” Ron mock-whispered to Harry whose lips involuntarily twitched upwards.

“Well, I guess it’s not bad to have somewhere to keep some of my plants in.” Amended Hannah.

Things were coming together nicely. At least Harry thinks so. Honestly, he thinks it’s a little too big, but then again, Charlie did smuggle a large number of animals. He claims they're docile and tame in temperament.

No one in the family really believes that, besides dad, who would put trust in them even in unlikely situations.

Harry looks at the building house. Even though they were creating something undeniably big, it just sorts of gave off a feel only a Weasley house would give off. In a way it was nonsensical, denied logic, all around magical and there was a lingering warmth, one not made by simple fire or runes.

______________________________________________________

They were sort of done, after painstaking weeks constructing and heavy magical depletion.

Charlie squinted, turning his head sideways as he looked the building over. “You know, I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Are you joking? This is a disaster. Did you just mix various architectures together?” Percy asked, aghast. “If it weren’t for using fog wards, I would be blinded.” He really should have questioned those papers earlier.

“By awesomeness you mean.” George corrected.

“It’s the greatest thing that happened since our joke shop.” Fred pretended to tear up.

“I mean, it kind of resembles a house” Ron said, dubious whether it was good or not.

“If you ignore some parts, it looks like a normal house.” Ginny said slowly.

“There’s a floating tree in in the middle of the courtyard.” Hermione said, deadpan. “What’s normal about that?”

“Normal wizarding house.” Ginny corrected herself.

“I think it’s quite lovely!” Hannah clapped to cheer some of them up.

“Forget that, why did we leave the lower part of our house naked?” Ron points at one of the higher builds, where the middle of it had only construction side of it.

“That’s where one of my greenhouses will be, once we find the right sand to melt into glass.” Neville said, voice dreamy. “The light will shine all day from all sides.”

“Riiight. Isn’t it enough that half of the house is engulfed in your plants?” Ginny asks.

“There’s never enough of green.” Neville replies, dead serious.

“This could never stand if it weren’t for magic.” Harry commented at last. Like, the weight, missing pillars that were halfway cut to accommodate Neville’s Luminous pumkins^, (“You bought all the variants from the Pumkins R Us shop?” “It was necessary!” Insisted Neville. “What if it was the last time, we saw any of its kind?”) among other things. Hermione nodded too, as the only two muggle raised, they shared the disbelief over how it was standing.

The pillars were in short, just a decoration.

Not to add their semi-gothic house had Greek columns.

Or how the library was apart from the rest with its renaissance-styled interior.

Neville’s forest looked like it’s still deciding which season it was.

There was moss growing over some rooftops. It looked like it aged a thousand years in a day.

“By the way, what’s in the fireplace?” Ron asked. Because that didn’t look like a piece of wood, fire enchanted to last.

“Fireseed bush.” Neville replied without hesitation. “They are very self-sufficient.” He added after a long time of staring.

Luna beside him smiles. “It’s livelier with them.” Of course, not the bush, but what lived around it.

There were 2 people to blame. Surprisingly, not Charlie. But Hannah and Neville. See, Hannah managed to bring over Flitterby caterpillars, and it happens that the Fireseed bush was its natural habitat, with the fire and whatnot. Since Neville won’t say no to free pollinators, the moths grew inside the fireplace and now they had a bunch of flying moths shining orange in the dark that hummed cheerily.

Not that it wasn’t nice looking, just- well, no one expected for it to be like this.

It was a right mess.

“Yeah, talking about livelier, whose idea was to make every staircase look like it each came from a different time period?” Percy asked staring at the twins accusingly.

“Not us.” They shook their head.

Bill looked sheepish. “Sorry, it was hard to decide if I should go with the oldest or the more sophisticated staircases so I figured out using all I know wouldn’t hurt.”

“Bill.”

“But look, it fits there.” He defends himself. Because it already looked like a mess-

“Dad should be back soon; what do you think he’ll say to this?” Ginny asks, her hands waving over the construct.

“No idea.” Fred and George said unison.

“What did he leave for anyway?” Hannah asks.

“He said he’s catching up with the news, and bringing us some books to learn Quenya.”

Which means by the time he was back, their house might be done working with.

______________________________________________

>>>Bonus scenes that didn’t make it into the final cut but happened:

1> Trees

“What kind of a tree is that anyway?” Hermione asks Neville.

Neville smiles, dutifully reciting about what he knows about his tree while tending to his golden leafed bonsai he made an effort to cultivate.

“It was actually a floating tree from Nepal, I knew it would come handy to have one of these, did you know if you assembled enough of them, you could make your own floating island?”

“Oh! That’s incredible! There’s so much potential behind that!”

Neville nods. “It’s actually a magical crab-apple tree, they probably had to graft it with the floating bush to achieve this result.”

The tree was now rather tall, solidifying its importance and centrality in the courtyard. It floated slightly above ground with its roots completely limp and unnaturally straight every few minutes few drops of water dripping down the roots.

“The leaves, flowers even its fruits are much lighter than feathers, and refuse to fall down to ground. When it’s time for them to fall, they stop a few inches above ground. Flowers have a deep ruddy pink colour, and the fruit is initially red until winter comes and the fruit magically becomes golden yellow. It’s that time they become ripe and sweetest to taste.” Neville sings.

“That sounds great. Fascinating.” Hermione says. She could see the interest Neville has in plants, but she herself knew it wasn’t something she wanted to profoundly study as much as him. Even Hannah, who liked plants wasn’t as invested into them as Neville was and found her own passion in healing. It was amazing to see him thrive in his own environment.

Neville smiles at her. “Aren’t they just?”

2>Plant lover

Neville was canonically rambling about a floating tree in Nepal. ‘Gravity-resistant tree’ on Potter wiki. I choose them to crab apples because tiny apples are cute, and also, canonically both Molly and the Lovegood’s had them. They’re affordable. They have a ton of symbolism too. Initially I wanted cherry blossoms but for some reason I couldn’t go through with it, with how overrated(justly) they are. Didn’t fit the image. Apple blossoms are pink to white, I wanted something close to above said cherry blossoms.

3> Fireseed bush is full of odd things.

The bush that is permanently on fire is very sus, either by the snakes inside, or even the fire salamander hiding in them.

Bill, staring at the whole ecosystem in the fireplace. “CHARLIE!”

Somehow, they have ‘protective charms’ on, made by Luna, that didn’t catch on fire. So no mutated nargles may live inside, she says.

4> Bonsai

Neville made a bonsai out of the Malinornë. Amrod still gives it a funny look. Somehow, seeing one of the largest Valinorean tree species, in which some people create dwellings on, being shrunk like this is fascinating. Said bonsai also happens to look incredibly beautiful and cute.

Malinornë= Mallorn

5> Staircases

Of course they move. The smart three (Bill, Percy Hermione) figured the pattern of moving stairs. The others… eh. Give them time. Amrod thinks it’s ingenious while the twins will love putting traps on those.

6> Sun

Earth’s sun and moon are entirely different from Trees and the fruit and flower that became sun and moon in Middle Earth. The moment Amrod woke up, he legitimately burned his super sensitive eyes from looking directly at sunlight. First there were Trees, then it was dark and then it was this blinding thing in the sky that hurts to look at, literally.

Now that they’re in Valinor, he keeps throwing the sun puzzled looks. He can see the sun now! What sorcery is this??

Chapter Text

Amrod passes through the streets with his hair spelled dark brown and slightly different facial structure. He listens to conversations, some words slipping his comprehension with how long he was gone and Sindarin being a foreign language.

It’s odd. Listening to various musical voices he had long buried his longing for, it was nostalgic, yes, and yet so different from what he remembers.

This was city of the Gilmith, the youngest city one out of the large cities, of now newly admitted High elves, Sindar. The place stroke him as foreign yet still elvish. It was different from the cities he remembered from the past. Vanyar’s Valmar was coated by warm light and gold, Noldor’s city Tirion, was fashioned by intricate craftsmanship and ornate decoration that took time to digest, and Teleri’s city Alquandë, never lacked silver or the blue reflections of their beloved waters. The city of Gilmith of grey elves, in contrast, never lacked greens. In a way grand, but at the same time emitted a different, much more mystical air of heavy naturalism.

He figured out going there will be the safest option, to not bump into some undesired people.

On the other hand, the Sindar settlement was rather far from their new home. In fact, in was in opposite directions, Gilmith being South whereas they lived in North.

The information he gathered there about the history past the burning of the ships- they weren’t the nicest he could have gotten, roughly the harshest critics about the whole endeavour of his father and his brothers, and they tore particularly into his family with gusto, though also into other Noldor that they did not like.

It’s not like he doesn’t see reason for that. Kinslayings didn’t stop, people, children died, poor decisions were made and house Amrod used to wield with so much pride was reduced to dust as their deeds piled up one by one.

Now, Amrod lived long enough with humans and his own life as a pariah that he knows, not everything is as it seems and there are truths to be found in lies.

The best source he was familiar with, were Pengolodh’s writings. And yes, they were heavily biased, but events that unfolded and people that were behind them were very accurate, at least in what he remembers. If only Pengolodh had more talent in uncovering real motives people had, instead of guesswork, now that would be the best Lore master there ever was.

So.

So.

His family really…

He stared at the familiar tengwar, a dull ache overcoming him as he flips through the pages. After all, it’s the letters his father came up with. And much more than that, it hurts reading through this oh-so-familiar language he had been looking for, for so so long. It is not only his family that faced difficulties, and not the only one that faced death and suffering. He doesn’t want to imagine it, see it, but the accounts of bloodshed and wars doesn’t go away. History of kinslayings linger heavily on his mind, as well as children who suffered due to a misplaced Oath. His brothers, driven by it, chained by the Oath taken, were both victims and instigators of bad decisions and their recursions. They created many grief-striking stories sung, long after the events passed.

Back on Earth, bloodshed was the norm as heartbreaking as it was, yet here, where he kept such high standards for his kin, it felt even more crushing to witness.

He nearly tears through the parchment, holding ages of what he missed.

“It is quite a gruesome book, you picked for a mere reading.” Amrod jumped, startled by the sudden voice. Behind him, there is an ellon, looking at him with old eyes, someone he didn’t recognize. (Then again, he recognized no Sindar, as he never got to land a foot on those shores.) Long white hair with equally long beard that went under his waist glistened in the light, silver eyes which were full of wisdom of a person who lived through many ages, and was without doubt older than he was, observed him with unhidden curiosity.

Amrod swallowed. “I-Yes, I am. I wasn’t, I mean-I wanted to know what happened…when I was… gone.” Dead and in a whole different universe, that is. Considering healing takes each person differently, it shouldn’t feel too suspicious.

The ellon nodded. “And that is commendable, for many may wish, to forget things that went past in Ennorath. But there are more yet, who cannot let go of their grudges.”

Some do.

He does.

The fire burning him is a distant memory in face of his own millennia of living. He wishes to forget it all happened, but he can’t. While memories are distant, the emotion in them dull, he still craves for answers. And while Pengolodth insists in his father setting the ship he was on, on fire, on purpose, he wants to hear that from his father’s mouth himself. And if he confirms- If he confesses on purposely killing him-

Then-

Then-

Well, Amrod doesn’t know what happens after. He’s not sure he wants to know the answer to that, either.

Because while his brothers had done wrong and horrible things, it was never against him, and he’s selfish enough to put past that. They may have to make many apologies, but not towards him. He too, had some to apologize for after all.

His father- that was different.

How much did he regret? The oath? The fire? His death?

And what if he’s unchanged despite being outside of the halls?

“I can’t just forget.” Amrod confesses. And if his father would pretend, he had done no wrong, maybe his father’s care for him and his siblings wasn’t as deep as he made his mind to think it to be. Love as sincere it was, making them follow him willingly on that quest, may easily die, if his father came to be unrepentant.

The old elf nods. “Many can’t. But in accepting things as they are, we may yet find peace. Elves drown themselves in regrets, contemplating in things that could have been, were their decisions different. Were other decisions different. Some, live in resentment and regrets, even now.”

The words swirl in his mind. If only I did something different back then, there is always that kind question. There is always the dream of what-if. Everyone dreams of that, the ability to change a single decision and wish for a better outcome. (But much like law of time-turner states, past cannot be changed. But future may yet be.)

But Amrod can't afford to change that particular event. Were it even 100 years earlier, if he had a chance to change a single decision, perhaps. He would leave the ship before fire engulfed him, back then. He would without doubt, agree to forgetting Earth, forgetting the foreign world, leaving his new friends so he could change this little mistake. For his friends weren’t family, and bonds made of millennia of living are hard to let go of. Sure, his change of course in history may make but a little impact. But he could be there, unassuming with his closest kin, out trying to fulfil a damning Oath and dying to it all the same, living but a moment longer than before.

He wouldn’t be alone anymore if nothing else, wandering in a world that was so different from his own devoid of any of his kin.

But now, now it’s bigger than him. He had a wife which he loved dearly. Sired children with, who bore both their images and of their past ancestors. Children that wouldn’t be born if he were not stranded, far, far away, from Arda. He can’t go back anymore, the idea of abandoning them, of preventing their birth and very existence-

How could he possibly do that?

The birth of his children, their silly memories, small hands grabbing his own, and struggles that came with small magical children, that is something he can’t take back, and refuses to undo.

“For what’s it worth.” Amrod starts. “Were I given a second chance, I would have done the same, or even dived off the boat myself. Great things happened, awful ones came past me, but those experiences were mine and my struggles bore me my most precious things. Happiness and joy, greater than any jewel.”

He breathes as he is hit with a sudden fervour, conviction in his voice colouring his next speech.

“But what happened was a mere coincidence to tragedy.

I won’t thank him for killing me. I want to question why, things had to happen that way, but I won’t wish for things to turn different. I lived far too long to hold anger in my heart. Some things are just meant to be as they are. I just want to hear-” He swallowed. “An apology. Only then I can let go. And if he doesn’t- then I guess- I would have to let go too.” He reveals far too much, without any context.

Part of him dreads it. He imagines his father, not the one who held him in his childhood, but one encased in blood, Oath and revenge driven, facing him with misplaced pride in himself. ‘What is there to regret? For truly you hath forsaken me for your mother.’ It was one of his earliest nightmares, freshly outside of Arda. His father, torch in hands, waking up to him only to shove it directly to his face. It kept him up at nights, sometimes, earlier in his wanderings.

And Amrod knows, grief can destroy a person, but if he is the same still, from the ships, the war, that kind of person-

Then he can’t allow him in his life anymore.

“That is very wise thinking you have there, travelling elf.” The elderly elf says, nodding.

“Experiences taught me holding too much anger is not good for your health.” Nor to those around you.

“Indeed, yet there are those who still hold onto them even on these shores. It will not do good to them, holding onto the anger.”

Amrod could imagine. The elf was describing his situation with the other Sindar. It wasn’t hard to figure out the dissatisfaction within their ranks. Too little retribution they feel perhaps, for Pengolodh rarely written of people’s regrets or punishments in great details. For one, he lacked talent in describing mental states, capable misplacing cry of joy to one of despair, but also, as a Noldor, he still had to maintain a level of dignity of his people.

Meanwhile Elu Thingol wasn’t described in good light, despite the record of more than half the population of Sindar taking off with ships just to be with their beloved king. While Amrod couldn’t say he sympathised with the King, there was something just wrong in omitting details of how obviously more than good the king was at ruling, to have a horde of his people sailing for him. But Pengolodh wasn’t a Sindar and thusly, could not describe other people’s kings well.

Maybe Elu was not the best at making certain decisions, but Turgon also wasn’t the wisest either and doesn’t have it highlighted like that. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t like either of them, and Thingol morbidly reminds him of Helena’s infatuation with the diadem and the tragedy after.

Helena Ravenclaw was a sweet child, but her obsession destroyed her, and it was hard explaining that two people will not be attending her last minutes of life instead of one.

So yes, he can imagine why Sindar aren’t the happiest bunch of people.

“Much of the anger subsided over centuries but there are those still, who linger on grudges that are better left behind.” The old elf hums.

Amrod bobs his head. “May they find peace in time, then.” He’s not about to let his past grievances consume him or his current life.

The old elf looks grim. “That’s what everyone hopes for.” For some reason, it sounds far more haunting, than it was probably meant to. Without even a goodbye, the old elf leaves, leaving Amrod alone.

Amrod didn't t get to ask for name. Then again, if he were asked for one, he wouldn’t have answered with a real name, which would be plain rude now. He spends his time reading records, piecing things together, some that sounded like fraud, some which were most probably true, and some which sounded so awful it tore through all his seriousness, making him laugh a bit at the sheer incredulity.

__________________________________________________________________

So, Oath has been broken. Good to know. It is a relief to hear. It makes sense, the lightness of his fëa everpresent. You never truly know how shackled your fëa feels under an Oath, until you are free of it.

The re-embodiment of his once dead family though, that is different. Mainly because everyone noticed him missing. It went from normal, reasonable explanations (delayed healing in the halls) to Daily Prophet ludicrous level of imagination that for some unholy reason hit far too close home.

The youngest scion of House of Feanor runs off to start his own family!

You heard that right! The newest and absolutely  checked sources informed us about whereabouts of the youngest son of Feanor, Amrod Umbarto Feanorion. Mysteriously missing for centuries, now we find out rumours which say the young redhead is now married, trying to beat his own father at children making.

How many children will it be this time? Will Feanor’s son finally break the record of his father? And why did he go missing? Sources say it is very possible he ran off with a rather scandalous match and broke from his disapproving family due to that. More on the next page>>

Amrod stared. And stared.

It was by far the most horrifying book he got, that hit too close to home for it to be written 1000 years prior to their arrival.

Right. Ignoring the odd insight, a mere theory book has about him, he still had to think about a lot of things involving his brothers.

How does one start with that. His favourite brother (not Amras included) Celegorm, who used to teach him how to hunt, may or may not have ordered his men to have children left in a forest. (The fact he's also a twin, makes this much more complicated in his mind.)

On another hand, they just went through so much. A part of him wants to meet them again. Maybe to comfort them, but more than that, he feels like what he wants more is to get to know the new them. Because without a doubt, they changed.

He changed. 

All of them couldn’t have possibly remain the same way they were, after all this time. But he dreads what he will see. By all accounts, he doesn’t think things will be the same anymore. Not when their hands were drenched in blood. His are, theirs are. He's not sure at what he'll see when facing them. In fact.

He’s not ready to face them at all.

Or for his kids to meet them. Maye later, in time, but they just got there so shortly and- well.

Part of him doesn’t want his kids to believe his brothers to be irredeemable monsters. But how could he convince them of that, if they were to meet one day, only to confirm those fears he tried to contradict? How can he when he’s unsure himself?

The other part of him wants his children to adjust first and selfishly, to grow up without the burden of being princes and princesses with set expectations. It had been such a long time since he considered himself one.

He’s simply… not ready yet. Not about explaining his children’s birth, heritage. Everyone’s going to notice freckled children, especially when no elves have freckles. In fact, it seems recessive genes from his wife showed in her children as their eyes went from brown to blue, Harry and Luna being the only exception, Harry with his unique green no elf was born with, and Luna’s silver, the only one who inherited his colouring.

He's not planning to hide them forever… but it’s not right to plunge his children into the dramatics of his family right after running away from people out for their blood. Maybe later, maybe in time, he will find courage to walk to the family he had not seen for so long and announce his children’s existence. Maybe when his children are healed from the horrors of their previous life.

Later.

Much later.

Things that are in the work but wasn’t incorporated:

1> Pengolodh is, compared to others a very good scribe.

While Pengolodh did try to be impartial, hardly any loremaster is. Like, Feanor’s scripts were all half-brother slander and Sindar ones never shied away from blaming everything to Noldor.

Pengolodh, as a scribe stuck in Gondolin, who wrote mostly about how great being hidden instead of taking any part in battles, was, had his flaws. Some things just can’t be accurate given how ‘you can’t leave Gondolin’ strict rule was. I mean, if you can’t leave Gondolin and your city exists like a ghost rumour, how much information do you get? But much to everyone’s horror, some things Pengolodh guessed were right, which makes his scripts the most accurate writing of Noldor’s age on Middle Earth. Unfortunately, because it means others reference from it.

2> Proximity

Putting Feanorians in North and Sindar in South was diplomacy at work. Finarfin, the Noldor king who stayed, figured out that things aren’t going to be good with Sindar-Noldor relations, last he got news about his children. And he had a feeling that’s reserved for selected few of the Noldor bloodline, that the Sindar building their city anywhere near Formenos is a bad idea. So, he may have suggested better trees at Orome’s forests. Turns out he’s right, kinslayings later.

3> News

They don’t have newspapers, but every now and then, Noldor publish books called Speculations of *****. They are the guys that make sessions where they try to unravel mysteries and make out conspiracy theories in a long debate and then compress everything into a book.

Noldor 1: Allow me to give you a theory about****.

Noldor 2, 600 years later: Allow me to disagree with your theory.

• But in books, dissing each other in written form.
• Fingolfin and Fëanor have their own debate going on. Fingolfin is 10 books ahead now. They don’t explicitly mention each other’s names but do jabs like how unprofessional or sightless the other is.
• Some people have those books as collectibles.

4> Lived all

Sometimes Amrod would stay with some people up to a second generation. Rowena Ravenclaw was one of them. Rowena was like… morbidly in a way like Feanor, smart, revolutionary, obsessed. She made herself a diadem of wisdom and if that didn’t’ raise a red flag, the stealing of it did. Just like the Silmarils, it bought sorrow to the crowd.  

He’s angry that Rowena just let her daughter steal the object and doesn’t like, denounce her or something. ‘Stealing something doesn’t make it yours’ was an often letter he sent Helena after seeing Rowena’s deteriorating health due to heartache.

“Why not disown her, for what she did?”

“She’s my daughter Amrod.”

“And she still stole from you shamelessly. If people knew-”

“I will not endanger my daughter. Enough, Amrod.”

Back then he didn’t understand why Rowena held onto her daughter when she did all that. While he did feel a bit sad at Helena’s horrible death, there was a sick satisfaction for the diadem of wisdom did not wizen her up after all.

Now centuries later, Amrod holding onto Percy despite him denouncing their family, he’s become more understanding of the past.

Chapter Text

Amrod takes the longest way home. His children may be half their original size, but they hardly could be called harmless children. He worries little, with the wards on.

The ride proves a good time to contemplate things. It’s sombre, quiet. It’s been a long time since he’d ridden a Valinor’s steed. The breeds varied, some bearing little resemblance to their ancestors he remembered.

“Steady now, Gilfast(Star-mane), while our destination doesn’t sound like the best place to live in, I promise you a vast grassland you may feast on, and unique forests. If you do not like the pastures, I offer you, after witnessing them, I will not hold you against your will.”

The horse huffs, as if he found the whole idea of Amrod against him against his will ridiculous. He makes a sharp motion, one Amrod tenses around, but does not react otherwise.

‘If I wanted to,’ The horse seems to say. ‘I would have thrown you down to your death.’

He’s not quite sure, but he probably wants to convey something similar.

He doesn’t share Celegorm’s talent in his animal tongue, but he’s learnt enough to understand little of their language.

Amrod laughs, patting the stallion.

“You will like the rest of my family.” He says, already becoming quite fond of the new horse.

They ride quietly after that, only forest ambience keeping them company.

It’s peaceful. The air is the freshest he’d long breathed in. Gentle chimes accompany him along with bird noises, nonhostile to him.

 “Amrod?”

Amrod skips a beat, but doesn’t turn, nor does he stop his horse from continuing forward. He doesn’t tense as a familiar calling can be heard from the forest’s darkness.

He can see from the corner of his eye, a hound of white fur and a steed along with a tall, white-haired quite looking figure emerging from the trees.

He gestures Gilfast to stop. He cocks his head in question but doesn’t otherwise change his expression. There is something stuck in his throat, and he desperately hopes Tur- Celegorm won’t prompt him to speak.

He has full trust in the glamour over him, but he doesn’t trust himself and his words. There was so much to say, discuss and- oh, how could he hold back, with his brother like this in front of him?

Everything goes to standstill.

They stare at each other, and his- his older brother sags in disappointment.

He bobs his head, looking down. “Apologies.” Celegorm doesn’t explain further, leaving immediately after. Huan looks back at him, confused, but not really recognizing him. They disappear behind the thick bushes and-

Amrod it at loss at what to do.

His horse nudges him in question. ‘Are you going to chase them?’ he seems to ask. He even tenses, ready to strike at command.

Oh, Amrod wants to. 

Instead, he shakes his head.

“Let’s go home, Gilfast.”

Now was not the time.

They step through the natural borders of the valley, getting dangerously close to Araman. It’s getting colder, though neither the raider nor the horse shows any sense of discomfort. More and more patches of snow appear in their path, until all but snow remains.

As they wander, Amrod contemplated building a wall from Diagon alley, or something similar to it. It was never bad to have additional fail safe against people breaking in. Or something that would only let in some people, redirecting others elsewhere.

Gilfast steps through the barrier, effectively cutting him from musings and Amrod-

Amrod looks at the home his children made in unhidden…Surprise.

He chokes, quickly jumping down to just- look at the house made before him.

It’s- well. If you asked any person, not knowledgeable in architecture, and absolutely not of Feanor’s descent, it would look somewhat like a beautiful house. To him though, who was raised by people whose craft lied in their blood, this was a bloody disaster. The longer he looked the more it became apparent that it was no different from his children spellotaping the whole complex and hoping for the best.

There were, clearly, missing a well-constructed skeleton frame, which, admittedly, most magical buildings lacked. They never bothered with things making sense.

The building looked like there was a war going on while the opposing sides simultaneously built on the house. It also looked nothing like what an elf would build. This was very un-elvish house all things considered. It carried a gothic style of all times with bits of pieces he guesses his children fancied. It was obviously thicker than any other building in Valinor, for his children still remembered their lives and their fragility to outside elements. It looked so mortal. In a good way. Magically mortal kind of way. Colorful, for none of the enlargened stones bore the same color more than 20 times.

Outside of there was a newly made lake, that was created out of water pouring from the house like a waterfall going unashamedly against the psychics. Around the house was a quickly growing thick forest. The castle sides which got to a lot of sunlight against it, was prevalently littered with glass windows, without a doubt, due the two’s, Neville and Hannah's obsession of all green and leafed.

And-

Was that a pink tree in the middle of the courtyard?

There was so much happening in there. The tree wasn’t the only one to decorate the house but was the most eye catching. He’d never seen such a large, pink tree before. The closer he comes the more incredulous it looks, and he can’t help but break into a hysterical laughs the moment he comes inside.

“Dad! You’re back!” Charlie greets him with an enthusiastic grin, while in midair, riding a Hippogryff. Although giving up Dragons was hard, his aptitude to animals was glowing as he tended to them.

“I am. Did something burn while I was gone?” He raises his brow. It was a quite some time after all.

“Nothing we’ll miss, I promise!” Charlie says, before cooing at the not-quite-bird with adoration.

Amrod’s corners tugged. “Well, I’m glad you look happy.” Despite not being with dragons, that is.

Charlie grinned, with a hint of mischief. “Hey, dad? What do you think about our home?” He gestures at their house. “On par with the Weasley spirit?” Charlie asked waving at their home with a wide grin, the looks of it not escaping him.

Yes. Home.

He huffed. “I’d say… you made something no one had seen before.” It would be the most diplomatic way, to say this. Not that he’s not terribly impressed, at what they managed to make up in such a short time.

“You don’t like it?” Charlie raised his eyebrow in challenge.

Amrod laughs. “Like? I think this is the most wicked thing I’ve ever seen. This is brilliant.”

It’s out of logic. It’s patched up by magic, runes and everything else that should be normally used only after being done with making the house as an add-on. It shouldn’t, were it not for magic, have even the right to stand.

And that kind of house…

That’s theirs. His father would either faint or try to get on bottom how this thing holds and it’s glorious to think about.

“It’s home.” He murmurs shaking his head, wide smile washing away his worries. Whatever happens after this, they will keep on being just fine. Charlie, who was up in the air riding the hippogriff, laughs too.

___________________________________________

Gilfast, their only Valinorean animal, got used to the place quick, especially with how in awe the children seemed to be about him. After all, elflings tended to melt hearts of all. Especially Valar blessed animals. The pastures and warm weather due to well-made runes made it a rather lovely place, and the fruits of their Crab-apple trees are surprisingly honey-sweet with little citrusy feeling to it. When it comes to food bribery, it was rather satisfactory.

But the horse was quite surprised as, unlike everywhere else, seemed to blend with the surroundings. Gilfast had, as his name suggested, a rather striking silver-gold mane that shone through the trees and reflected well against any light. Even in the darkest night, the shiny steed might have lightened it with its mere presence.

He was arguably one of the fine finds that rarely can be bought outside of stables of Lords who dedicated millennia to their growth. But in face of unicorns… well, it could be said they just assumed him one of theirs without a horn.

It was the reason he found himself extremely pampered by his children initially.

“You poor thing…” Whispered Charlie, looking stricken as he strokes the unaware horse. The said horse looked rather proud, being stroked by 12 elflings at once, hogging all attention. “To be born without a horn…”

Hermione squinted. “I’m pretty sure he’s fine.”

“Nonsense Hermione, it’s clearly a unicorn without a horn stump. How is that fine?” Ron says, exasperated. Of course, there was something wrong.

Hermione stares at the horse longer. “I don’t think that’s it…”

Amrod couldn’t help but break into another laughing fit, hearing that. It just sometimes gets him, the differences they had, though to be fair, he too, did have muggle gaps because those people just couldn’t stop innovating when one goes to meditate for a century.

After explaining than no, normal, muggle horses don’t have a horn or wings or anything to do with another animal parts, Gilfast got his own stables, but most often than not, the stallion tended to spend time with the herd of unicorns or sat under the crab-apple tree or in forests. Speaking of the forest…

“Everything good with the forest?” He asked, looking at the quickly growing trees.

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. “Neville’s pretty great with the plants, they’re growing really fast, we managed to send out unicorns, mooncalves and thestrals ahead of the schedule. We’ll probably introduce the other winged horses later, I think it’s time we send out wolves too.”

Amrod blinked. “Wolves?” They have what now?

Charlie perked up noticing his confusion. “Oh, they’re not your normal wolves, they’re out of a union of two werewolves. They’re rather beautiful and smart. Rather big too. If the Ministry knew of them, they would have called for extermination, so we took them with us.” He scrunched his nose at the mention of the Ministry.

How- No, no, Amrod will not think about how the union of two werewolves even came to be.

Ever.

_______________________________________________-

“Hey dad.” Bill greeted him, around midnight where others were asleep. Many of them took to sleep together after harrowing months of living as criminals. It didn’t help that they were tiny compared to near adult and adult bodies they had back then, adding to their feelings of vulnerability.

“Ion.” He greets back softly. They were in his study, nothing much to do as his children took the reins. In Bill’s hands, there were two mugs of steaming milk. His oldest didn’t wait and sat across him putting the mugs down for them to enjoy. Three chocolate frogs went into each of the mug, trapped in the milk until they melt down to create warm chocolate. Morbidly ingenious, Amrod has to admit.

Bill takes a sip before he speaks. “You haven’t been talking like that since the twins were born.” He remarks. Ion. Son.

He does regret that bit. He does. His children never learned Quenya, and that will remain a wistful wish he had taught them a bit earlier, sooner, but by the time the twins were born-

Bill shook his head. “I know. Feeding five children is hard, let alone seven. There just wasn’t enough time and there was school between that too.”

“Still…”

“You and mom did the best, and to me, you’re the greatest parents there ever be.” Bill says firmly. “I just wanted to say… we’ll need something… someone to learn the language from.” He pointedly stares at him. “This way, you’ll even get to know our siblings.”

The new ones he meant.

“I don’t know where to start.” I don’t even know how to teach. “I didn’t do well enough for Percy.”

“Percy didn’t turn out like this solely because of you dad. Give us credit, he was an adult then.” While now they’re children. “He made his decisions, regret them and he’s back now.”

“But-”

“We all should have been there more.” His firstborn says solemn. “Percy wasn’t as old as us, and never as young as them and we should have made him feel more included. We should have stopped Fred and George from pranking him overboard, and mom shouldn’t have highlighted Percy’s marks to compare with others. I should have been there more, instead of me leaving with Charlie, leaving Percy to not be old enough to be responsible, but no young enough to not be. We all made mistakes.” Bill’s lip twitches in a rather bitter smile.

“That time, do you remember when Nagini bit you?” Amrod does. It was a gruesome memory and hurt much more as one of his sons wasn’t with him. Of his own volition. “Ginny was scared, as Percy was missing, and the bitter comments of the twins didn’t sit with her right. When they left you and mom alone, she tore them a new one, you should have seen her. Percy was very caring of her, after she was possessed, you know? Even brewed sleeping draughts for her and talked her through the nights. She always believed he’d come back.”

He reminisces. “And he did. A bit late. And apologized, which you know Percy struggles with. He loves us, you should have seen as he tackled Fred from the killing curse and the slashing curse after for George. Things were bad before, but right now, I think their relationship is so much better that it could have been, without the war. He lightened like I’ve never seen him in years.” And wasn’t that just a bitter potion to swallow? Fighting in a war was what bought them together, not talking, but the cruelty, fear and darkness against them.

They sit in silence, digesting this. Indeed, the family looked closer than ever, Percy having more of a grim humour to his jokes. But why had it had to be war, that bought them closer?

He speaks again, hesitantly. “What if I am not a good teacher?”

“You taught us how to climb trees. And how to set mouse traps. I’m pretty sure you’re the one who taught the twins how to prank. And we’re not babies you need to guide. We can learn some things by ourselves, I know Hermione had been attempting to coerce us into trying animagi transformations. I’m not sure if it’s the best idea with the twins involved.” Bill says with a smile then shaking his head. “We’re not completely hopeless or dependent, and so aren’t you. You’ll do fine. Just don’t go the same way you did with climbing.”

Amrod barks a laugh. “Yes, climbing. Do you remember Molly’s reaction back then?”

Bill gave his father a wry look. “You slept on the couch for 3 weeks. I used to hear stories about that.”

They both laugh, careful not to wake the others, the silencing runes still yet not in place.

He sags after a while. “What if… I’m not what they expected me to be?” He asks.

Bill cocks his head. “Luna hardly has any expectations. Neville, Hannah and Harry…They have nothing to compare you to. And Hermione isn’t averse to you.” His oldest son gets up to squeeze his arm. “Dad. Just that. Be our dad.”

It truly sounds so simple. Back when Bill was born, it sounded simple too.

But all it goes down to is…

“…I’ll try my best.”

Bonus snippets and mini-facts:

1> Responsible adulting

Bill: Our mother is dead.

Bill: I’m the only one responsible now. *Eldest daughter syndrome plays in the background*

Amrod and his incapability of being either stern or firm parent:

Also Amrod: That’s fair.

2> Death

On Molly’s funeral, everyone sung My Heart Will Go On.

3>Poverty

Molly and Amrod weren’t initially poor, but by the third baby they started stretching their finances. Bill and Charlie lived okay middle-class life, but as they were young, they didn’t notice the switch despite being oldest.

It was partly due to Bill imprinting on any and every sibling born and Charlie being far more interested in wildlife and dragons to notice increasing poverty.

Percy, unlike them, was one to observe and truly feel the changes that came with lack of finances. And while he does not resent his siblings for being born, he does resent the problem of money. The Weasley family pretty much ignored the glaring flag of ‘can you even afford another kid’.

As for the twins and younger, they pretty much grew into the poor situation never questioning if things were different before. As far as they know, they were always poor. No idea what Muriel is talking about.

Muriel did mention giving away the children to other less fortunate wizarding families though. It was also her last time she did.

You can pry Amrod’s children from his hold over his cold, dead hands. “What do those inbreds sods have anything to do with me?” He retorted that day, his eyes glinting dangerously. Molly smiled tightly, lest she turned into a banshee right after birthing her babies.

The fact Molly was freshly after childbirth was the only thing stopping him from dealing a punch to her face.

Muriel’s offended gasp was memorable to Bill that day.

4> Low bar

The new kids minus Hermione have an extremely low bar at what a parent should be and all of them are very accepting. He’s lucky his children happen to be them.

5> Oath

The Oath was broken sometime thousands of years ago in Arda. Since the time between Earth and Arda is nonlinear, to Amrod, he could say it was broken in his soul around before or during he and Molly met. Which is around few decades. Eldar bodies don’t typically sire children during war, if ever, but maybe Amrod’s body and soul, free of the Oath, felt at peace, in the same way one would out of war. So maybe, that let the couple to have so many children, regardless of war going on in the background.

Or they’re just that good in baby making. The Order of Phoenix are used to flush and look the other way when they came into the room together, so take it as you will.

6> Percy

As you can see, Fred lives. The twins and Percy get closer over both the joke and him saving their life. He has two deep slash marks on his torso and across his chest. They’re even closer after Molly.

Ginny tore them a new one because when she was in second year, Percy took care of all her traumas, and made sure the twins pranked her less and on less triggering things.

Because she tended to wander to him at night, she understands his efforts more. And his loneliness within the house, the same she feels as the only girl and only one experiencing Voldemort the hot version in her mind and the aftereffects.

Not that Percy’s faultless, and at the apology, Ginny actually struggled to forgive him, for missing important moments in the family and believing the Ministry when you have a sister, once possessed by the Dark Lord. 

But because Ginny chewed Fred and George prior, they took time to digest it and realize they weren’t faultless on how Percy turned out. Which is why Fred offers him a hand and forgives him for what he did, because the twins also did ton of awful things.

Percy has a long list of people to apologize to anyhow.

7> Age timeline

They leave a year after the war; the age goes like this:

Bill 28

Charlie 26

Percy 22

Fred and George 20

The unholy five 18

Luna and Ginny 17 with Ginny still stuck at the youngest.

8>Baby care

Amrod Feanorion watching his toddler baby walking: Yes, it is time to teach you how to climb a tree like a proper elf.

*Baby Bill falls only to be caught by Molly who was drying clothes outside*

Molly:

Amrod:

Molly: *inhales* ARTHUR BILLIUS WEASLEY-

9> Of the past

He talks about himself in Ambarussa, therefore as ‘they’. Most of his life it was them in duo order and it shows in his reminiscing.

Chapter Text

Hannah thinks this life is quite nice. It had been around 5 months. Maybe. She’s not sure, as their dad still didn’t get the promised calendars.

Of course, there are many things to miss form the old world, but to her, this was far better than anything back then. Nothing particularly exciting happened during that time except the usual pranks from the twins. Dad took regular trips to various places, either to come back with various writings of history and language for them to learn about, or general shopping for things they can’t make themselves. Clothes for example, among other things.

It’s the most peaceful ever since… well, if she could take a guess, second year, before there was a loose giant snake in the halls.

Admittedly, the legilimency/ósanwë was something they took a whole year to get accustomed to. At least it wasn’t invasive, unlike from what she’d seen from Harry’s visions. It just appeared out of nowhere, with the twins and their dad nodding to themselves as if reading other’s mind was supposed to be natural. They just… had to get used to it, like it or not. It bought the question about what happens if any of them married, something which their dad was unhelpful with as his connection was severed upon getting to Earth. Ramifications of sharing a mind aside-

There was a matter of learning languages.

Learning Quenya ended with… mixed results. Dad was incredibly patient, but still, it was frustrating. The language needed intonation and vowels they just didn’t train their throats to do, as the elven language required a singing-like skill to sound natural.

Yeah.

They should have been born French for that.

Bill, Percy and Hermione were the quickest to grasp the language, in that order, and the fastest to speak it fluently moving onto Sindarin almost immediately. Sindarin, which was much easier to learn as it derived from the more complex Quenyas predecessor.

With their combined efforts, and hard drilling from their siblings, they all managed to learn Quenya within the five moths, well enough that it put their dad on ease to know they could talk to people even though there was a heavy accent to it, save for the three who learned it the quickest. If anything were to happen, most of them would understand the language spoken and get by themselves.

Hannah herself struggles with the language a bit and she still remembers vividly when dad cursed all of their tongues for three whole months, to be incapable of using any English, relying on the language she never heard of before.

It did help them learn the language though, so she can’t complain much, especially since all of them cheated in their own way, with the mind connection and all.

Another change came with coming here besides the language. Their father prepared them a gift, one that he wanted to give them after everyone had a fair grasp of Quenya.

He gave them new names.

Elven names, because they were required to have names like so.

Or something.

And apparently, it was very important to their father to name them himself.

___________________________________________________

He sat them down one night, around a fireplace, with 12 boxes stacked on the table.

He looked thoughtful, as if something occurred to him. “Coincidentally, all your names happen to be what I promised my old friends to name my future children after.” It was interesting that even the children that he didn’t get to name did, of sorts, have a name he once in the past promised to give.

Everyone looked at him with raised eyebrows. Percy is the one to break the silence with skepticism. “You just happened to have 12 names?” Unbelievable, which was fair, but it was the truth.

“In my defence, I never expected to have children. As far as I knew back then, I wasn’t planning on siring and never believed to find my fated one here.” He said honestly. He doesn’t regret having them, marrying Molly, and the children aren’t dumb enough to think 12 children to be an accident they just happened to have. “When Molly gave birth each time, it just all came back to me.” He says honestly.

It was a silly promise he made to his friends back in medieval times, to King Arthur, and Merlin. Admittedly, he laughed them in face, promising if he ever had children, as if ha, then they will bear the court’s names and then some. Back then, he forgot he’s practically surrounded by mortal Maias.

In the end, he happened to pass all his promised names onto his children, even if he wasn’t the one to name some of them. The fact they all got those names despite him not even being present to do so, speaks volumes of how much of a cryptic bastard Merlin was.

“Do we need elven names though?” Ron grumbled. First language and now another name? “Can’t we keep the ones we have?”

Amrod softened, ruffling Ron’s hair before sitting down to the ground. The child in question looked grumpy, but he couldn’t help himself. Having his sons and daughters this small, won’t last forever so he had to enjoy it.

“If you don’t have one, other elves might do so in your stead, and believe me, some may not to be the kind you’d like to walk forever in. Besides, I have names for you prepared already. You always had them, well, some of you.” He corrected himself remembering the unpleasant fact not all children did he get to hold at birth. “I just kept them close to my heart.” He never said their names to the outside but watching them grow, the names came up naturally.

Ron looked at him puzzled. “You did?”

Amrod nodded. “I thought about it, and now that I have names for all of you, we might as well as use them.” For it would be odd, to not have elvish names in Valinor. The others looked at each other before nodding, finding it made sense.

“Well?” Fred prodded. They were vibrating with curiosity. It seemed the de-aging was getting at them as even other had a hard time keeping their curiosity at bay. Their eyes laid on the stack of small wooden boxes their dad took here.

George also joined in. “What are they?” He asked, studying the small, palm sized boxes.

With a smile, he went to the table, taking one of the boxes. “William.” He gestured to him. Bill jolted, unused for his name to be used in full.

He went ahead, Amrod handing him one of the wooden objects. It was fairly plain, except of one messy carving on the top of it. Amrod wasn’t the best at carving much to his chagrin.

Bill takes it, reading the word carved on top of the box out loud. “Alacarnassë.” Something like… good natured? For some reason, it resonated well with him. He opened it, revealing a pocket watch. Not any watch. It was the coming-of-age pocket watch their parents gave each of them on their 17^th birthday. While each design was their own, the watches shared the same pattern somewhere of a weasel, and an 8-pointed star.  What was different though, was that on back of the watch was their name in full, with one added to it, only surname missing. William Arthur Alacarnassë.

That last name was new.

“Our new names?” He says, softly, brushing his fingers with the added engraving.

Amrod nods. “Yours.” Not to add atop of engraving names, he put there a whole lot of locating spells. The war was a nightmare, and his children were somewhere, and he was left without knowledge of their fate which was the worst experience to have.  

He shakes his head, focusing on the task at hand rather than reminiscing those terrible times. Bill already walked back and everyone kind of knew how the order was from that point on.

“Charles.” Amrod calls out, who was already ready to step forward.

He handed him another box from the stack.

Charlie read his own name too. “Ronyangon.” Dragon-chasing. Charlie couldn’t help but smile in pure joy. It was a fitting name in Amrod’s opinion. Charlie thinks so too, by his almost joyful jump to hug him. “Dad, I love my name.” Charlie says ecstatic.

Fond smiles filled the room. Charlie then steps back, mouthing his new name.

Amrod moved onto Percy. “Percival.” He beckons him closer. He came forward, all straightened up, taking the box. He takes little time to read it aloud.

“Sanairë.” Percy smiles at the name.

To think combined with lament. Regret?  Percy exhaled the breath he didn’t know he was holding. It was a fitting name, for Percy didn’t want to forget those past mistakes. Percy nods, stepping back, taking the watch out of its box proudly wearing it.

The twins came next, together as one, Fred and George getting their boxes, Amrod holding each in hand.

“Nyatsorëon” Reads aloud Fred with a grin.

“Nyatsalasën” Is followed by George immediately after.

Smiling magpie and a Happy magpie respectively. The twins loved it, no less because of their Patronus matching their names.

The two jumped right back, with the five of his children coming up.

Amrod smiled at them softly. “I’m afraid to say that begetting comes before birth, which makes Ron the oldest of you.” It wasn’t clear back on Earth, but the influence of Valinor made him much more sensitive to his children’s being. He could tell now, which one was older form the lot. And Ron was older if only by seconds, than his siblings.

Ron looked like Christmas came early. He walked up, taking the box. He squints a few times at the carving, realising the ‘th’ in his name. “Aþumon” He reads. Friend at need. For a second, his eyes faltered, but with warm glances from Hermione and Harry, Ron accepted the name as his own, joining his older brothers and proudly being part of the the older half of the family.

“And the next one?” Hannah asked curiously.

“Next is Harry, despite being born a day after Neville.”

Hermione grimaced, looking at Harry. “That number haunts you.” She says, exasperated. Once again, seventh. It just seems the magical number refuses to leave him even here.

‘I know’ Harry mouths despairingly before going forward.

Harry takes the box, reading the engraving aloud. “Mírion?” Harry blinked. That was… surprisingly plain. Amrod nodded, looking intently at him. Harry thought of that. Jewel-son, or more precisely… Treasure-son. If you look at it the other way, how various ‘treasures’ he was entangled with, many in form of some kind of jewellery. The horcruxes were a kind of treasure. The Hogwarts foundables sure were. And the three hallows. The time turner. The Philosopher’s stone.

It also sounded oddly normal. Harry loved the plain name. With a thanks, Harry didn’t hesitate to stand next to Ron, wearing the pocket watch like a necklace.

“Who’s next?” Ron asks from their stand.

Amrod gestures at Hermione. Hermione walked forward taking the box. The eldest girl. “Failanár” Hermione says fluently. Righteous fire.

Amrod nodded with a smile, particularly proud at the name. Hermione thanks him, and falls back, besides Ron and Harry.

He then gestures at Hannah, who came up curiously eyeing the box given to her.

“You took so much time for each of us?” She asks, touched.

“Of course.” Amrod answers softly, gesturing her to look at the name. “Names are important.” Especially these ones.

“Alyastar.” She read from the top of the box. It rolled well through her tongue. Good faith. It was lovely, she thinks, as she receives it with a smile.

“Thank you, dad.” She says with a small nod before stepping back.

Neville came after, which made him the youngest of the five, taking the box shakily. He looked a little afraid of what is there to see. The name-

“Laimandir.” He reads nervously, his voice going a bit higher pitch at the end. Plant loving. Nothing like skittish, or something big that he had to live up to. It’s just… him. Neville sighed in relief, thanking his dad for the name that asked nothing but him being himself.

Next came Luna, her silver eyes looking more present than before. She took the box, blinking a few times before speaking with a smile.

“Tercenien.” She speaks. Insightful. Everyone smiled as despite Luna’s oddness, she was indeed a rather perceptive person.

At last, rather grumpily, Ginny came up, being, as always, the youngest of them. She took the last box remaining on the table. The last engraving said-

“Ruivën.” She reads aloud. Wildfire. She blinks a bit, because huh.

“That’s fitting.” Ron commented thinking about how explosive she could be, in retaliation, particularly at Fred and George. The naming ceremony came to an end just like that.

It didn’t seem like anyone had an issue with their names, much to Amrod’s relief.

Despite knowing these names, they later, most often than not, use their human names, behind these walls they made. He lets them bask in their new names before speaking again. “I will soon seek an audience with Námo.” Because for all his speculations and beliefs, it would be good to be made sure whether death or endlessness waits for his children.

Bill nods. “You’ll be gone for a month then?”

The distance, even by horse, took time to get used to, as he hadn’t ridden a horse for years and the children were unused to him being away for so long. Once again, he’s endlessly grateful for the maturity of his children, and the general fact he knows they will be safe still, behind those walls.

“Maybe two.” He admits, as Halls of Mandos undoubtedly had a waiting list. Even if he covered the distance in one month, he might have to stay there for longer.

All of them look at each other, before nodding. “You’ll be safe there, dad?” Bill check to make sure, following other concerned gazes.

“I will. I promise.” He tells them to reassure them. And if he does die, he thinks morbidly, he’ll come back anyway.

________________________________________

Amord rides on Gilfast, taking a last look at his children.

He wonders just how much of his family’s genes, after becoming part elven, did they inherit. While some of his children were mix of both his and Molly, some just dug their genes out of their lines that Amrod didn’t know they had. For some reason, seeing his relatives, he just assumed Finwe’s dominant genes were all he will see in his own line as all of his relatives had his looks somewhere, but he was proven wrong.

Bill has a build similar to Russandol’s. Even now, it was clear he would grow taller than his siblings. His werewolf scar across his face made no difference to his striking looks. Bill’s hair was Mahtan’s brilliant copper, his right eye was left clouded, while his only remaining eye was clear blue, much like Fabian’s. His son wore an earring with animal tooth in there, which he got from Charlie, along with other piercings skillfully hidden from Molly’s eyes, and Amrod idly wonders how the Noldor society will react to such. Pierced skin wasn’t exactly something they did, if ever. And tattoos.

Meanwhile Charlie had a much stronger build but smaller height, and love of animals reminiscent of Tyelko, with Molly’s honey brown eyes to complete him. His bright red inherited from the Prewetts was remarkable, as was his unconditional love for any creature above the danger of X. Charlie also sported various burn scars from his handling of dragons and other animals and if he was wondering what others would think about Bill, it isn’t hard to imagine Noldor reaction to Charlie. In fact, Amrod thinks, he’s not sure if introducing them to his kin is a good idea at all.

Percy looked concernedly similar to Carnistir with freckles and Gideon’s dark orange hair, personality wise though, it was all Carnistir. Like most of the siblings, he had scars littering his body from the war. Blue eyes shone with weariness but much more relaxed than he’d ever seen him before. He’s taken to reading books and attempting crocheting.

Fred and George were identical twins, both with his hair, Molly’s stature, honey brown eyes, bodies littered with burns and scars made by curses and whatnot. Amrod grimly realises, he can make out which is which, now, the scars and lack of ear making all the difference. Despite that, they did not lose their cheer, though it was much more subdued than before, the war taking its toll. Their Jar companion was always in tow anyhow, put on a disturbing display.

Meanwhile, Luna and Ginny are the opposites of each other. Luna inherited all the soft in them from temperament, smaller height and softer looks that looked like she could not harm anyone, her silver eyes not being quite present as they should be. She also resembled Celegorm, and out of her siblings, had very light rosy hair. Ginny has in contrast, all the fierceness. Ginny will undoubtedly grow tall, with strong, muscular build, with the sharp looks of his line, her honey brown eyes shining with fire.

That said, it’s the quintuplets that made him nervous. While all previously mentioned children were a mixture of him and Molly, it’s like the 5 of them decided to skip his generation. None of them, safe for Hermione, really took up the Finwë genes also. Which he didn’t even know could happen. Hair wise, all their shades aren’t his. Which means he’s not the only one who got genetics tapped farther in the line.

Facially, Ron took a lot after his mother, Nerdanel. Hannah resembled grandfather Mahtan, while Neville resembled grandmother, Istarnië. Hermione looked like a girl copy of Feanáro. Harry in turn, looked like Míriel with piercing green eyes. Safe for his father’s looks, just where did the rest come from??

Separately, no one would think much of it, but together… to those who know those faces, they will notice.

Idly, he wonders what it means for his future peace.

^{___________________________________________________________________________}

Another episode of things that happened or facts, but wasn’t incorporated:

1> 8-Pointed star.

Amrod inconspicuously adding his family star will have consequences.

2>   Great name

Harry: A normal name! With nothing attached to it!

Amrod:

Amrod: >_>

He almost named Harry Fírion, which means pretty much ‘he who died’. I mean, neither are good but boy, did he dodge a bullet.

3> Familiar name

In his defence, he doesn’t quite realize how Hermione’s name is similar to Feänáro right now. Added that he did live millennia with names repeating and names sounding same and being entirely different he just doesn’t see it. On the bright side, she’s at least together with Charlie, Percy, Harry and Ginny in the ‘highly questionable name’ section for the other elves.

I mean, chasing dragons, lamenting regrets, Míríel 2, Feanor 2, and wildfire associated with forest fires…

Amrod did inherit his naming sense from his family after all.

Meanwhile Amrod patting his back at his ingeniousness at the names.

4>For your future children

Someone: Amrod! Dare!

Amrod: Bring it.

Someone: Name your kids after our Camelot and then some.

Amrod, believing he will never have children, being a free spirit and all: Haha sure.

Amrod centuries later holding his baby: Damn. They got me.

5> Rules do not apply

Hilariously, Amrod broke like some essential rules of the Noldor.

Not marry during war: War was about to start, and they hit it off. Partly because Molly is YOLO and Amrod knows how life is fleeting during war and unfortunately caught feelings.

Not having children during war: Winds up with 12.

Unlike Noldor customs, he’s the one naming his children later, with insight.

Never gave them any jewels. (Money was tight, like Merlin’s grave, 7 children, how did his father- oh right, prince-) Most of the Noldor would probably lynch him for no jewels-

Short hair. Which would have been a distressing thing for elves if they saw that.

They grew up fine! – Amrod, probably.

6> Naming sense

Amrod naming Harry and Hermione, Mírion and Failanár respectively: This can’t backfire on me.

7> Quenya

It’s Amrod’s first language. I don’t think he got enough time to get used to Sindarin back then, learning language passionately as any Noldor, but not quite experiencing the oppression of the Quenya ban, considering his early burning. It’s the reason his kids have Quenya names. No one in Valinor will bat an eye though, considering Quenya is the first language spoken there. Telerin also happens to be similar enough to Quenya to be understood widely. Sindarin isn’t that widespread in Valinor, despite what Thingol likes to think.

8> Don’t do this-

Hermione, as she learns Sindarin the quickest, Sindarizes her name. She likes it better. It’s Faelnor.

… yeah. Talk about questionable decisions.

Just so you see how the two names sound similar even in Quenya:

Feänáro= PHE-A-NÁR-O

Failanár= PHAY-LA-NÁR

Amrod: This is fine.

Istarnië is a name for Nerdanel’s mom.

9> Watches

I wanted to make necklaces but then remembered the moment when Molly gave Harry Fabian’s watch. -._-. My feels.

So, everyone’s got different watches, not necessarily new, Ron actually got the brand-new watch because Molly felt Ron needs to feel special this particular day especially. The same way she gave Harry the rusty one with dents, but with tons of memories. (He adores that.) All the watches are also personalized to the wearer.  

Besides the mandatory weasel and star (which could both either be inside the watch incorporated with the clock, on the case, back, in place of a handle or hanging down the watch). Many of them were actually bought from the muggle world and tinkered after, by Amrod, because you can’t tell me he didn’t. Battery? Ingenious. They all had it personalized in a way, and minorly enchanted so they either wouldn’t break or never run out of energy:

Bill’s got a compass along with the watch. It’s heavy af.

Charlie got the animal themed one of course. (Amrod, tiptoeing the Statue of secrecy when going to muggle stores because they're cheaper: “So, I would like this watch to have these, totally-not-real animals there.”)

Percy has a complex one, with visible mechanics.

Fred’s watch is a bubble blower.

George’s watch can send out sparkles. Neither of those two, show actual time.

Ron’s watch is in parts a fidget toy.

Harry’s watch, after fixing the dents, can play a soothing music. (Fabian was a musician.)

Hermione’s watch is a puzzle to unlock.

Hannah has her watch decorated by flowers, all which represent all the good things. It’s scented.

Meanwhile Neville has magical themed plants of all kinds for his watch.

Luna’s watch is a moving planetarium.

Ginny’s watch is horses with wings.

Molly always saved up when a kid was nearing adulthood, because those magical watches were expensive especially brand new, while Amrod took care they would forever be ticking. He always had the feeling of them having the third name, so he told the smiths to leave a space there, if there was a need. Morbidly, before he decided to abduct them to Valinor, he thought he’d be taking the watches after they die as a reminder of them.

When Amrod found out Molly gave Harry a watch for reaching adulthood: *dramatic gasp*

Amrod: Molly! I can’t believe you did this without me!

Fabian is the eldest brother, from twins. Molly kept the watch very close to heart because that’s the last thing she had after the loss of her brothers and having nothing left of Gideon. But when she saw Harry, she finally felt like she could part with it.

Interestingly, Harry’s watch has Fabian Prewett’s name engraved in a circle. Amrod kept it there without tampering. Molly kept Fabian’s watch to feel like having a family close to her and gave it to Harry for this exact purpose, so Amrod wants to keep it that way.

10> Crocheting

Percy takes up crocheting because it makes him feel closer to his mother. It’s… a work in progress. Hilariously enough, he can’t make clothes, let alone a blanket, but he can make plushies. Twins especially, think it hilarious as it just doesn’t go well with his image.

11> Terribly

The latter half of the Weasley dozen was tortured: From Harry to Ginny. Mentally or physically. It makes the older ones feel guilty and feel like failures at the whole sibling thing. Interestingly, Percy is the one who knows how to deal with that, experiencing and caring for Ginny during the rough times after her 1^st year. Harry-Voldemort, Hermione-Bellatrix, Hannah-Carrows, Neville-Carrows/Bellatrix, Luna-captivity, Ginny-Tom.

Young-uns: Tis’ but a scratch.

The older Weasleys:

The older Weasleys: No.

12> Free hugger

Amrod likes to hug his tinyfied children. And take pictures. It’s not an everyday thing to have the time to enjoy your children being small again. At first, they were grumpy because no, being half their size doesn’t make them children dad, but Amrod is relentless. And can spot touch starved children. It helped that Bill and Charlie hugged back as enthusiastically, to show that you don’t need to be small to get hugs. Neville looks in need of one every hour or so.

13> Surviving your comrades

Amrod lived very long on Earth, like, Babylonia to now, kind of long. Camelot was the band of misfits he feels most memorable about. But damn, was Merlin a suspicious scrooge. And the whole Camelot thing was such a wild ride, like, the drama, bastard children coming up from the depths of nowhere and so many scandals.

I have it in my mind that time passes much differently to elves that experienced death of their mortal friends, especially to time, than war.

Chapter Text

At last, he’s accepted into a hearing before Námo. Finally, because while he liked chatting with Aegnor, it wasn't what he was planning or waiting for, in these Halls.

“Your visit has been long overdue.”  Námo said, as Amrod stepped inside. He didn’t speak at first, taking in the sight of the Vala before him.

“I have been… busy.” He said at last, as vaguely as he can.

The Vala raised its eyebrow. “Indeed.” 

He didn’t squirm before him.

“You’ve been missing for quite a while.”

“I’ve been…” He should tell the truth, no? “Outside of Arda, I was… in another world altogether.”

The Vala nodded. “We were suspecting such, after you came back with children. You died first, of all Fëanor’s children, and Fëanor himself and as such, we did not consider the effects of the Oath.”

 “What happened?” He asks curious of how he ended so far from home.

“Fëa does not belong to the Void. Void is a place only Ainur can go to, and while your Oath pertained the Void, the law-and-order Eru set would not make an exception, even to those that swore to enter it. As your Fëa tried to fulfil said Oath, perceiving your death as Doom, you may have subconsciously reached to enter Void and bounced off it, to elsewhere. You could not receive the gift of Men either. Perhaps due to that, you may have incarnated into another of Eru Iúvatar’s creations. It is what would explain your children, that could only be born with two Hröa’s.”

“I never heard of such, when I was younger elf living in Valinor.” Amrod frowned. It would have helped back when he was stranded, at least he didn’t have to have a crisis over being in another world because his young elven mind thought that wasn’t possible.

The Vala nodded. “To us, it is but a speculation, for the moment we entered Arda, Eru’s thoughts and works were all sundered from us. We can only guess what He is doing. As such, we cannot say and therefore teach, this knowledge based on guesswork. To us, there was only Arda. Many worlds mayeth been created after, but we do not possess the knowledge of them.” He cocks his head. “But I believe, this is not why you hath arrived here.”

Right. “I came here regarding… my children’s mortality.” Because speculations are one thing, but it would be good to know for sure. “And apologize,” He paused, before continuing, “for the Oath, and the terrible consequences it bought forth. Death, slaughter, grief of those left lingering to see the bloodshed, too.” He added, to not sound like he didn’t understand the ramifications of deeds done.

Námo waved the apology away. “Nienna saw through you, and your repentance has long passed.”

“… and… my children?”

The Vala then hums in thought. “You speak of Rīgantonā’s descendants.”

Amrod blinked. “The who?” He asks because what was he speaking of?

“An Aini, known to us, before Ëa.” He says passingly. Amord has to open and close his mouth several times at the blatant mention of the reality before this world came to be. And that his children had Ainu blood inside them. “It is a wonder that her descendants decided to be tangled with you, although it begs question…” He shakes his head. “Be it as it may, I believe it’s not the question you wanted answered.”

Huh, so, maybe him nicknaming his friends mortal Maia’s wasn’t so off…

No wait-

“Mortality is the question, yes?" Námo says, guessing right. "I see where your worries lie, but by stepping onto Aman, their choice of mortality has been taken away from them.” He nods at something out of Amord’s sight. Amrod blinks. Hope swells in his chest. Does that mean-

“The fate of your children has already been decided by bringing them here.” Then, he looks unsure. “In parts.” He seemed to amend.

“In parts?” Amrod repeats, incredulous. Since when did a Vala act this unsure? And why did it have to be about his children?!

“While being mortal is no longer a choice for them, the line of the Ainu courses strong still, in your children’s veins. It does not easily… fade away, in the same manner it does to part-maia elves of Arda. No, not at all, as their line, has not been touched by any marring or fading nor laws set by Eru here.” Mandos looks thoughtful. He closes his eyes, looking up, looking for answers.

For a minute, all becomes silent as Mandos searches and searched the seen and unseen and things told and untold.  Mandos’s eyes abruptly snap open, answer found.

“Your children will have a choice. To be counted among elves, or to be counted among Ainur.” He says, with absolute certainty.

Amrod blinks. “My children can decide to be Maia?”

“Ainur.” Námo corrects him.

“I-” Amrod looked unsure. “That’s an option too?”

“Given your children’s abilities.” The Vala intoned. “It would be much odd, if they were not given such choice. Especially the one you call Mírion.”

Amrod winced, realising he wasn’t exactly wrong in saying that. “My children will not- they are not mortal, then?” Just to be sure, it is what Mandos meant.

Mandos shook his head and Amrod could finally, finally, sigh in relief. “Then, the choice my children are to make, it is not immediate, is it?”

“It is of my belief,” Námo says, “That eternity to decide so, is enough time.”

Amrod nodded. “Alright, thank you, Námo.” He turns around to leave, finally, after two months of waiting for this little answer.

Námo blinked. And blinked again. Almost hesitantly, he nods as Amord leaves, who was feeling much lighter as his theory has been proven. He will not lose his children to time.

________________________________________________

Meanwhile, nearly two months ago:

______________________________________________

“I can’t believe it. We’re lost!” Hermione exclaimed, as they landed somewhere. They wandered around for some time in the snowy forest they appeared in, until they were forced to acknowledge they weren’t anywhere near their home.

Neville shrunk beside her. “S-sorry.”

Hannah shook her head. “I think it was a group effort.” She says, remembering how it all came to be.

They were working in a library when suddenly a huge chunk of books fell down towards them and the five of them had a bad case of mixed accidental magic. Landing them who knows where in the snow.

Luckily, they were actually dressed for the cold, as they were planning to grab some things before going outside the wards to check how well the protections holds from the distance.

“Nevermind that! How are we getting home? We don’t even know where we are!” Hermione said, becoming stressed.

“Well, definitely farther from our house than we’d like.” Harry said finally. “We don’t have trees outside the wards.” He points out, which, well, was horrible to hear. That meant it was either an hour walk, or much, much, worse.

Ron grimaced. “I hope nothing like a giant wolf like things roam here.”

“It certainly would now, now that you jinxed it.” Harry mutters, aware how Ron’s untapped talent in being a seer, works in the weirdest ways.

Hannah nodded besides him, looking sympathetic. “We really ought to tell dad, you know, he might know more. I wish you had the chance to talk with Trelawney back when we were students, she would have helped you gladly with being a seer. I think it’s a wonderful gift.” Harry side-eyed her, but for the sake of winning this long-standing argument did not complain. Ron bristled at the mention of that witch.

“There’s nothing jinxing about it! No gift! I’m not a bloody bonkers seer like Trelawney! In fact, I’m not one at all. Hermione can attest it’s just a coincidence.” At that, Hannah made an offended gasp- “And we’re not telling dad!” Ron defended himself. “What I said is a valid concern. What if a large white beast came out of the snow?”

“Everyone stop!” Neville yelled. All the eyes landed on him. “Setting aside Ron being a seer-” “I told you I’m not!” “We need to figure out how to get back.”

Harry looked at Hermione who nodded determinedly.

“Right! We could send a patronus to Bill?” Hermione suggested. “You know how weird some magic gets.” Like how some things were strengthened, and some became weaker. Apparrition was a big no-no until adulthood, for a good reason, as a single inch could have horrible consequences, Ron being a prime example. Of course, accidental magic doesn’t care about such things. At least they were all whole. Small mercies.

They looked at Harry who nodded. The patronus did happen to come easiest to him after all. An unusually bright falconet patronus flew off his hands, taking off in what they could assume was the direction of their home. It was at first jarring, the change, but after a while he got used to the small but fierce bird of prey.

Hannah summoned another one, this time a diamond dove, which they followed until they got tired. It was clear they will have to wait. The lot of them made a stop under a tree, Ron sighing before sinking into the snow. Hermione’s mood looked no better.

“I guess we’re really far.” Hannah said after a while.

“We can’t see anything from here.” Neville added nervously.

“I wish being an animagus could help us here.” Hermione complained, obviously unhappy as their forms were all the younger versions of the adult animals. If not, one of the winged ones could have flown up and looked around to figure out where they were. Sure, climbing trees helped, but they needed to be somewhere much higher. Their cub forms were useless.

Also, their clothes were far warmer than their small form’s fur right now. It wasn’t exactly cold, clothes being charmed warm enough to not register the freezing temperature. They huddled together, wondering on how long it would take their siblings to get them.

“That’s it!” Hermione screamed in frustration after a solid hour of doing absolutely nothing. Figures as she wasn’t one to wait for a rescue. “Nevile! You have a knife, yes?”

“Yes? I mean, it’s for cutting herbs and other plants.” Nevile mumbled.

“Perfect, let’s go.” Hermione decided.

“What?” Ron mumbled, blinking, looking at the determined look of Hermione’s.

“We’re making a fire. And forage for something. I refuse to sit here doing nothing.” It seems sitting still really grated at her nerves.

“I mean, being lost children, isn’t staying put the first thing you do? Besides, it’s not like we’re cold.” The stink eye Hermione gave Ron made him raise his hands in surrender. “Fine, when we get taken away, It’s Hermione’s fault.” He grumbled. From the side, Hannah mouthed ‘seer’.

Everyone got up, assigning themselves a job. Ron, prepared the campfire, Neville foraged nuts and other food as he had a herb knife, Hannah picked up herbs with her small shovel, Harry picked up woods to keep the fire going and Hermione-

Harry squints. “Are you making traps?” It was a huge piece of rock, kept up by sticks, threatening to squish anything under it.

Hermione looked proud at the thing. “You never know how long we’re going to be here.”

“Hopefully not that long.” Harry muttered under his breath.

Unfortunately, it was already afternoon and none of their family replied or came.

Hermione’s trap actually did manage to catch something after Neville sacrificed some nuts as bait. Which was far quicker to be normal, but maybe it was another of the Valinor things, dad told them about. After all, he did say this place was more abundant in things. Neville pursued his lips as Ron butchered the rabbit, the only one to know at least something about butchering, before looking away, uneasy. Neville wasn’t the one for gruesome sights after all.

Before long, the poor rabbit was roasting on their campfire, as everyone huddled together. It was well seasoned by Hannah’s herbs and the nuts roasted under as well. It smelled great but it didn’t ease their uneasiness of being lost.

“You recon they’re coming to get us soon?” Ron asked, getting worried as several hours already passed. They've been gone since morning.

Hermione grimaced. “There are trees around us. The nearest outside forest closest to us is hours away, if we’re even close to our home, that is.”

Ron nodded with a grim face.

Harry added a branch into the fire. “I guess we’ll just have to wait then.” He said softly. The fire satisfyingly cracked, and Harry wondered if they might spend the night here too.

It was but a little while of respite, when suddenly-

Hannah stiffened at seeing something in front of her, behind Ron, and that’s enough for Harry to jump defensively at whatever was there, turning around ready to- well, do something, only to see a tall, really tall, figure with silver hair peering at them.

Harry let out a shrill from his mouth, earning him a puzzled look from the man riding the pearl white horse and- oh this was gold, Ron, look, a white hound.

Others stood up not a second later, tensing as the man elf dismounted. The tall figure dropped to one knee, looking concerned. He was armed with a bow and a sword amongst other things, which added to their unease.

“What are you doing here little ones?” He asked, in Sindarin. His tone was soft, gentle and concerned, and Ron had to psychically stop himself from bristling. Sure, their dad talked to them softly, but not in a ‘you’re children’ kind of way. This just ticked him the wrong way. All of them.

Also, it just sucks that no one save Hermione knows Sindarin. But there were little languages Hermione did not know at this point. Harry scrunched his nose under the hood, mentally talking to Hermione, not looking at her as to not lose the sight of the…nér. If that's what they call male elves in Quenya.

‘What did he say?’ He asked Hermione quietly through their link. It reverberated through their collective minds, all of them being still and prepared to, well, do something if he tried to harm them. Hermione did happen to be armed with Neville’s knife. In a worst-case scenario.

‘Don’t say that.’ Chided Hermione, ‘Dad said that doesn’t happen.’

‘He said shouldn’t. Which we know happened, because of how dad got to meet mom down the line. Did you forget the history of ships he gave us? What if we’re another exception?’ Ron said sceptically.

‘Stop that!’ Shouted Hannah in their link. ‘Hermione, can you answer him? He’s still waiting for a reply.'

‘Right. We’re being awfully quiet, damn it!’ Hermione bites her lip before answering in a level tone.

“We’re-”

‘D-don’t say we’re lost!’ Interjected Neville panicky. ‘That’s how kidnappers take children!’

“-waiting for our siblings. They should come to take us back home. Eventually. <<” She says instead.

There, she nailed it. Perfect, unaccented Sindarin.

The elf stared at the five of them for a while before- “I see, you are waiting for them, then?” He smoothly switches to Quenya. Hermione blinked, before enthusiastically nodding.

The hound cocked his head as if understanding their words. “That is strange, I picked up no scent of an adult elf nearby.” It then said.

All of them jumped as the hound spoke, staring at the dog in surprise. The elf chuckled.

“Surprised? Huan became quite chatty since his own re-embodiment.” The elf said. Right, the reincarnation thingy.

Huan… Something nagged at Hermione’s mind a that name, but she just couldn’t place it. Instead, her mind working overtime, came up with truth filled diversions. The last thing she wanted was for Ron’s predictions to be made true. Speaking of the meaning-

“You named your dog, ‘dog’?” Hermione asks bewildered.

“Correction, I am a Great Dog.” Huan wagged his tail.

‘Ever wondered what a dog would say if they could talk? Because this was absolutely something I imagined a dog would say.’ Hannah said, contemplating if she could ask to pet it. He looked so fluffy. Not as shiny as Cookie but still very pettable. Ron sent her a blanch look. ‘No! Don’t even think about it, Hannah!’

“My brothers can cover their tracks well.” Hermione says mildly, ignoring the bickering and answering the earlier confusion of Huan. Her statement was technically true. Charlie worked with dragons, dragons, that if they noticed him or even picked up his scent, would probably cost him his life, and Bill was always meticulous around things because avoiding all kinds of curses is no joke.

‘You know, Hermione got so much better at lying. Remember first year?’ Ron says, reminiscing and impressed at how far they’ve come. ‘But the Umbridge incident is still the most wicked memory of Hermione technically lying.”

‘I mean, they still believed her.’ Harry says before Hermione mentally shut them up with a mental equivalent of a glare.

The elf looked surprised. “Then they are very skilled, I recon. Not many can hide from Huan. And me, for that matter.”

That is, if they were anywhere nearby.

Not that the elf would know.

The giant hound whipped his head, looking somewhere. “The game is getting away.”

Once the hound- Huan was his name, said that, the elf got abruptly up, deciding something with a nod, his gaze lingering on the them who stayed vigilant still. “Stay safe, and in one place, little ones. You do not want to be lost within those cold woods, no matter how safe they be thought to be from Ennorath’s forests. There are still animals that mayeth harm you still, and your brothers may not find you and your friends if you all go your way.”

Hermione is about to retort they are siblings and they’re not children, only to remember quintuplets aren’t exactly normal, not even in wizarding or muggle worlds, and that they are children. Though it does beg question how he just easily leaves them alone.

Harry speaks instead. “Who are you though?”

The elf looks taken aback. No, he looks- shocked. He stares at them for a while, as if trying to figure something out and Hermione almost wishes she could have gone back in time to stop Harry from asking that. Obviously he was someone important. Apparently.

The elf answers, if a bit hesitantly. “Tyelkormo Fëanorion, though I prefer my sindarized name of Celegorm Fëanorion.”

Hermione is half the mind to reply-I like my sindarized name better too!- before she stops herself. Better not- Better not involve themselves with this guy more than necessary. The elf- Celegorm, jumps atop of the saddle-less horse and they look upon him as he looks at the same direction his hound did a while ago. The name, same as Huan, nags in her mind.

“I’m afraid I will have to go. I do not want my catch to actually escape.” The elf says stiffly, as if cagey about something, leaving with his horse as abruptly as he appeared. None complain as while not entirely unwelcome, it was far too abrupt finally meeting another elf without any preparations.

_______________________________________________

Those children weren’t Sindar. That was what Tyelko was sure of, as he rode away on his horse, Huan by his side. Like at all. The lack of understanding in all but one was clear. And it wasn’t the child’s first language either. The lack of accent, the cleanliness of each word spoken, could only be attributed to a Noldo. It was a mystery in conclusion.

“Are you really leaving them there alone?” Huan asks, incredulous.

“The fireplace wasn’t made by amateurish hands.” Celegorm said in his defence. “It was clearly made by someone who spent great and gruesome times in the forests, and the rabbit was skilfully skinned and prepared with very good knowledge how to prepare them to good taste. These elflings- They are too young to be learning such skills, meaning there is, without a doubt, an adult elf nearby.” Though leaving them alone like that- Celegorm grimaces.  Maybe they are children born form parents outside Valinor, believing this place to be truly without dangers. No orcs, spiders and other foul creatures, sure, but there are still the dangers of prey animals. Wolves, bears… admittedly, not in this area but the sentiment stands.

“My friend, when I told you of the prey escaping our grasp, it was of my idea to let the deer go.” And stay with the children. Huan implied.

Celegorm gripped the horse’s mane a little bit tighter. “They were- scared of me.”

“Wary.” Huan corrects. “Do realize, their distrust did not stem from who you are.”

It was odd, one of the children asking him who he was, despite being clearly- himself. And then there was the other, who was clearly someway of Noldor line. The other three were silent and under those thick Sindar cloaks he wasn’t sure whether it was out of their wariness or out of lack of understanding. The second child to speak to him had heavily accented quenya, something the first child did not have. Maybe they were all part-Avari? Maybe they weren’t all part Noldor, but part Avari. It would explain the other three children not talking because they might have not understood him. And the second child spoke accented Quenya because it’s not his first language. Though both spoke a particular Quenya that puzzled him all the more.

Celegorm bit his lip. They were long away from the campfire of the children by now.

Currently, he had his target in his sight, and bow by his side. Yet, despite how he should have focused on his future kill, he couldn’t help but go back to those elflings. If they were partly Avari it might explain the lack of supervision because Avari did odd things all the time. And yet leaving five elflings unattended around a fire… Celegorm gripped his bow a bit tighter.

Now, elflings were sensible around fire past certain age, they looked past that age, but children were dumb and made dumb choices and-

The shot he sent towards the deer killed it in an instant. It was stronger than intended but it did it’s job. Admittedly, it wasn’t his most impressive dressing work after that. He loaded the carcass on the horse before-

“We’re not heading to Formenos.” Of course, Huan immediately knew which direction they’re taking. The sun was going down and Celegorm was headed in an entirely different direction.

“No, we’re not, I just need to check if they left.” Celegorm said. Formenos was closer, but he just wants to be sure the elflings gone home.

Much to his relief, the light of the campfire was nowhere to be seen. The campfire was extinguished properly under the snow, and everything cleared. The snow was starting to cover the evidence someone even camped there.

Celegorm tried to calm his inner disappointment because no, he shouldn’t be unhappy the kids are safe home where they should be, and this is really stupid-

Wait.

“… Little ones?” He says incredulously, staring at a tree decorated by the five elflings, each slouching in a way it was clear they were planning to sleep there.

In the night, the faint glow that belong to the eldar was much more visible, as was their staring.

“Uh… h-hello?” A third person, a girl he could make out immediately, greeted hesitantly. “Fancy seeing you there.” It drew incredulous looks form the children themselves, each whipping their heads at her.

“Hannah, I can’t believe you said that.” Another, hisses from the tree. So they all knew Quenya.

“What else was I supposed to say?!” She hisses back.

Just-

“What in the Void is going on here?” Celegorm demands.

One figure awkwardly scratched their neck. It was the first kid, Celegorm realized, as they spoke. “Would you believe us if we say we’re still waiting for my brothers to get us?” They asks, much to amusement of no one.

^{__________________________________________________________________________}

1> Maiar, Valar, and the Ainur

The Valar and Maiar knows something’s happening outside of Ëa. But since they bound themselves to Arda they can only speculate what Eru’s doing out there. You can’t tell me a Creator would stop at one world.

The Valar and Maiar were Ainu first and once they landed on Arda did they separate themselves into those two categories. Implying some other Ainur looked at Arda and said “Nah, I’m good.” And didn’t go.

2>Of faeries

Rīgantonā or Rhinhanon is an Otherworld woman in Welsh mythology. Prewett is a Welsh surname.

In here, she’s an Ainu who looked at Arda and said “No” and then later at magical Earth creation went, “Ooh yeah, I like this.” And then she looked at one or two guys and decided they’re her type regardless of mortality. Prewetts belongs to her line.

The reason why the whole magical community came to exist is because Eru didn’t supervise Earth much and left it all to Ainu that liked Earth to work it out. He’s got tons of world where he either watched how they develop themselves or directly intervened to see the results.

The Ainu that descended, tended to take fancy at some mortals, made love and children appeared out of them. Cue creation of magical society.

The Prewetts have different Ainur bloodlines inside them, but Rhinhanon was most potent line Námo latched onto, to keep his sanity. Otherwise, he’d be…at loss of words. I mean, Rhihanon wasn’t the only Ainu that decided that humans are attractive, and their children married their children and… yeah.

Námo’s half the mind to speculate the Weasleys are some eldritch creations of Ainur who pitched in together to create something Aulë style.

Prewetts aren’t the only ones who had the mixed variety of Ainu ‘blood’ and were certainly not those who had the most of them. That honour belongs to Ollivanders. It explains their cryptics at least.

3>Downsides of one island

Inbreeding is such a common thing in Magical Britain, and so was the lack of options for the magical community. Given how everyone seems to be related, the Prewetts could have had a Peverell mixed in their blood. Making Harry Master of Death still.

4>Watching

Námo watching the Weasleys and using his supernatural powers to figure them out, but instead-

“What mysterious things hath the youngest scion of Fëanor bought us.” He says.

Internally: What the fuck am I looking at.

5> Thanks

Amord is like, the only Fëanorion who thanks Námo. Sure, the others apologized for things done, but Amrod thanks Námo which is like, a miracle. Amrod humbled himself through living alone, no but really, unless you’re Malfoy and the first word that comes out of your mouth is an insult towards his family, he’s really friendly. Not at all because eternity all alone is horrible thing to experience.

6>Wonky

Magic is wonky to the Weasleys in some places since they have no wands. They figured out wandless magic, but accidental magic happens fairly often along with it because they’re children prone to some emotional outbursts.

7>Animagus

Currently only used to be cute:

Bill and Ginny are the biggest animals.

Bill’s a moose. Like, don’t screw with that. If Casual Geographic taught me something, it’s that you don’t provoke that. It's bigger than you think!

Ginny’s a big horse built for speed. Chosen for her patronus. She can kick mean.

Charlie’s an armadillo lizard. Most dragon like thing but still animal.

Percy’s a very cute, fluffy ruddy silk moth. (Human screwed with them the same was Ministry did with Percy. He can fly very short distances, like, two meters tops.)

The twins are magpies of different species. Chosen for their patronus.

Ron’s a doggo. Chosen for his patronus.

Hermione’s a baby otter. Chosen for her patronus.

Harry’s a pied falconet , because I wanted him to be also a social animal, but also a brave one.

Hanah is a diamond dove. For her name, that means grace.

Neville’s a wolverine. For his fierce nature.

Luna’s a rabbit. Patronus.

I need them, because there’s nothing more peredhil than turning into an animal.

Rejected and crack fic worthy mentions of animagus ideas: Harry or Ginny as the menace Goose, Neville the Ostrich of deadly kicks and nervous breakdowns, Hannah the therapeutic Capybara who can’t run to save her life, Percy the proud Silkie rooster, Ron the hoarding Squirrel and Hermione as a Trash Panda. I wanted Ginny to be a goose or even a kangaroo, but I really, really like that she’s a horse and all the symbolism behind it, especially since we’re in Tolkien-verse.

8>Apparating, chimneys and portkeys

So, teleportation is an Ainur thing and despite how after the adoption and mainly marriage did Amrod get wedding power bonus, he can’t apparate and uses portkeys and chimneys instead, very, very reluctantly.

Normally, Ainur can’t teleport with a body. Valar and Maiar can’t on Middle Earth, only a spirit going one place to another, but wizards are monsters in human skin and what they put their minds on, they did. Which means they figured out apparition.

Process in which you disintegrate yourself into matter, and from matter into energy and from then, change places and reassemble yourself in reverse process. (Which is why apparition is not recommended for the pregnant.)

It’s complicated and horryfiyng. Like, Amrod studied it once, and he’s like: Yeahhhh, I think I’ll stay with the muggle things. – He’s not even sad he can’t do that.

It’s one of the reasons he knows locations of all portkeys because he can trust technology a great deal better than put trust in person to get him somewhere without fucking up his body.

9> Not-lisp

As you can make out of Ron’s name, “þ” is still used in their Quenya instead of “s”. Yes, the Weasleys use Feanorian Quenya. Amrod won’t stand for anything less.

Fun fact:

Since Thingol was dead for a while, and Sindar came to Valinor with all people talking Quenya, they also had to learn it, no thanks to everyone using that language and if you didn’t, well, not everyone were Noldor who liked learning, so the Teleri and Vanyar tended to… er, politely look down on the clearly simpler language and took their refusal as an inability. Like, the way they Vanyar used Sindarin to explain something felt really, really, like they dumbed down their words for them, so yeah.

Something along the “Oh yeah, Sindarin has no word for that I’m afraid…”-kind of thing. Worse off, for the Valar it might even be the truth when they explain some things and stop mid speech because Sindar don’t have those words that could have only formed among those that lived with the Valar. Also, the Vanyar and Teleri elves just don’t get the unacceptance of Quenya or close cousin Telerin which is a somewhat a Valinorean official language. Forget it, it is the official language. Even the Valar try Quenya when talking to elves first and Sindarin after. Sindarization did not take off well in Valinor. It is still spoken, yes, but not among the courts. Thingol got things to come to terms with, then.

In short, Quenya and Telerin speakers are like French people stereotype. But with all the British politeness.

10>Celegorm this chapter:

Celegorm meets very cute not-sinda elflings and first thinks they’re afraid of him because they know he’s The Celegorm. I mean, there’s a reason they’re afraid of him, right? Better leave then, because kids no longer like him. :c It’s cleared away as Harry asks him his name, but he’s too confused to change his mind and turn around.

Huan wanted to simply forgo the hunt and stay with the kids until presumably adult sibling came, but Celegorm took it as a getaway as the children looked distressed the longer they spoke.

He also thinks that the probably-noldo child misspoke ‘my siblings’ and said ‘our siblings’ instead in Sindarin, and it’s confirmed in his mind as Hermione corrects herself in Quenya after. The five of them being siblings didn’t even cross his mind. Twins are rare. Quintuplets don’t exist until proven otherwise. Huan’s getting weird vibes from those kids but can’t exactly put it in words.

Then Celegorm gets super worried imagining bad case scenarios. He comes back to check on if they’re gone only to see a tree decorated by elflings, shining with eldar light. Yes, eldar glow, you can pry that headcanon prom my cold, dead body-

As to why Celegorm mistook them for Sindar, the cloaks Amrod got them were from Sinda shops.

Picture of a group of falconets for your soul-

And elven names so you won't get lost:

Ginny– Ruivën – Wildfire

Luna – Tercenien – Through/Pierce+see = Piercing sight

Hannah – Alyastar – Fair/good + Loyalty/faith = Good faith

Harry - Mírion – Jewel+son = Jewelled/trasure son (

Neville - Laimandir – Plant+ friend/lover = plant loving

Hermione – Failanár – Fair minded, just + fire = Fire of justice

Ron – Aþumon – Friend at need

Fred - Nyatsorëon – Magpie-Smile = Smiling magpie

George -Nyatsalasën – Mapie-Happiness = Joyful magpie

Percy  –Sanairë –thinker/reflect+lament = Thinking regret

Charlie – Ronyangon – Chaser+dragons = dragon chasing

Bill – Alacarnassë -Well done/made+nature = good natured

Chapter Text

“So, you’re lost.” Celegorm summarizes, feeling a headache coming. “You couldn’t have told me that the first time we met?” Huan barks in agreement.

“To be fair, having you leave was already a plan, before you left by yourself.” Another elfling said and that’s it.

“What are your names?” He demands finally. He can’t call them the ‘one that spoke to me first’ and the ‘second’ and then more.

The elflings look at each other, then back at him. “You want to know our names?” They asks in unison and yes they all knew Quenya, with an accent, admittedly.

He raises his eyebrow, a tactic that worked on his younger siblings when they did mischief. “Do you wish to be called elfling one to five forever?”

They once again look at each other, falling deathly silent, apparently contemplating their options, before one by one, they answered, adding more to their mystery.

“Alyastar” the only elfling he was fairly sure was a girl. A Quenya name. Maybe they weren’t Avari at all. Unease swelled with him, because that meant a possible Noldor left them there. To add to the oddity, the name would have been better with a nér than a nís. Sure, the was his mother, and Galadriel with her name, but this name lacked a distinct gendering, and if he wasn’t so sure this had to be a girl, he’d think she was a boy.

“Aþumon.” Another said, breaking him from his thoughts. A surprisingly soft name for a nér. A friend at need. It wasn’t… it lacked fierceness. Unless they were Feanorinas, which was unlikely with their lack of knowledge and only other of their kin used "þ". Maybe they were Vanyar? Celegorm dismissed the idea immediately. Ridiculous, for them to be so far from Valmar, and Oromë’s forests were closer if they were.

“L-laimandir, Celegorm, sir, uh, Lord Celegorm?” Another oddly chosen name for a nér.

Celegorm bobbed his head. They truly did not recognise him. And yet, they spoke Quenya well enough it was odd, he was not taught about. Or heard of.

He looks at the last two. “Mírion.” The child answered. Ah damn, was that Sindarin or Quenya? Mír was used in all languages- And- Why jewel-son?

“Your mothers must have wanted daughters.” He can’t help but tease. The kids look considering it though.

“I mean-” One kids frowns under the hoods, the other looks in thought with his hand under its chin and the last- Aþumon was that? Sighs.

“He’s not entirely wrong. We were supposed to end at a girl. Our existence depended on mom not having one though.” Well ouch, Celegorm didn’t want to hurt them for real.

“I’m sure your mothers love you.” He tries to soothe them, but the children, he feels like they’re giving him an unimpressed look.

“We know.” They say, in a grave solemnity he can’t really place, but it does remind him of something.

Nevertheless, he faces the last child. The one that talked the most. “And what’s your name, little one?”

“Faelnor.” The child answers proudly.

Celegorm blinks.

“… excuse me?”

“Fael-nor.” The child repeats with more spacing.

It doesn’t help.

…

Who in the Valar forsaken lands named them?!

Faelnor.

Mírion.

It dawns on him then; this can’t be a coincidence.

“Your many parents have an interesting choice in names.” He says mildly, “I should meet with them, someday.” (Amrod, currently in a month’s long waiting room in Mandos’s halls, suddenly feels cold.)

“Maybe.” The kids say vaguely.

“Only yours is Sindarin?” He asks the… uh, actually, it told him nothing on their gender, but he leans to a boy, the words of meaning would fit, but the pattern of the previous names proved otherwise.

They nod. Which means Mírion is Quenya. “Dad said we could sindarize it, if we wanted.” Well don’t, is on Celegroms lips. “The original is Failanár.”

“I see.” No, he doesn’t, but nevermind that. “So, you were planning to stay here for the night?”

In the middle of nowhere? On trees?

Faelnor pursued his lips. Because this must be a boy. “We thought they’d come sooner, but if we’re really far then they might have to take some time before getting here.”

Celegorm frowns. “Did you wander off?”

“Not…exactly. We just… got stranded here. By accident. But it’s fine, they’ll find us.”

“Eventually.” Celegorm mockingly repeats what they said the previous encounter.

“…Yeah.”

“How long have you been waiting for your siblings to come?” He asks Faelnor.

Faelnor falls silent.

“… Since the morning?” Laimandir answers, almost questioningly.

“Since the morning.” Celegorm repeats disbelievingly.

“We managed to catch a rabbit since then. And it was pretty good so waiting wasn’t all that bad. And the campfire looked wicked.” Aþumon said defensively, much to Faelnor’s indignation.

“What do you mean by we? I caught it with my ingenious trap!” Celegorm twitched.

“Well, I was the one who skinned and gutted it! Who else would have done that? Ne- Laimandir’s queasy about that! And H- Mírion never skinned anything before!”

“What they mean is that cooking was a group effort, and we were doing just fine.” Mírion interjected before the two children could lunge at each other from the branches. “You don’t have to worry, we’ll be alright waiting for our, uh, for Faelnor’s siblings to come get us.” The child backtracks, Quenya visibly not being his first language.

A sick feeling overwhelms him as he has few realizations.

One, the ‘siblings’ probably left the children wandering and lost fairly often, leaving them with skills they should have had to learn only when nearing forties. The idea of elves leaving children out like this and the nonchalance that they would eventually get found, was sickening.

Two, the children looked unfazed at being all alone, further enforcing the first idea.

“You know, I may just stay here, until they come back.” Celegorm says, coming closer. “Won’t you go down the tree, little ones? You’ll find sleeping on trees is not as comfortable as people say it to be.” The fact they were planning to sleep there was concerning in itself. It meant they didn’t expect to be found for a good while.

He looked at them expectantly.

They look at each other. And then at him, with a sense of doubt.

“I won’t harm you.” He promises, seeing how they made no move to go down.

“Won’t you?” Aþumon asks, suspicious.

They do not know him, yet show so much distrust, it’s uncanny. “I won’t.”  He confirms. They don’t move, still.

At last, Mírion gets down, much to the dismay of the others.

“H-Mírion, you can’t just believe that!” Faelnor scolds, shaking his head.

“I don’t, not really.” The child admits, honest with his distrust making Celegorm blink twice. “But if he tries to hurt us, being stuck on a tree doesn’t sound like a good idea.” He gestures at Celegorm’s bow. That’s what gets the children go down. Like, Celegorm can admit made sense but-

“I’m not- I’m not going to hurt you.” Celegorm chokes at the nonchalance of what the child implied by the gesture towards his bow.

One of the children seems to move their jaws and he can almost make the sceptical ‘yet’ form in them.

They sit around a great distance from him, all eyeing him curiously. Since they still had wood left, they started a fire anew with Celegorm’s fire steel (which begged a question how exactly they started the fire the first time around). The deer came in handy, when feeding 5 elflings that ate only one rabbit during a whole day. And no, not being hungry did not mean they can forgo a meal.

“Is it alright to share your catch with us?” Alyastar asks worried. “We don’t want to trouble you.”

“It is very fine little ones.” He assures them. “There is plenty to share.”

“But won’t Huan go hungry if we do?” She asks, worried.

Celegorm smiles and faces his longtime friend. “What do you think, Huan? Do you think you’ll go hungry?”

Huan shakes his head. “With a catch this big, I hardly will. And sharing is a vice amongst hunter.”

It’s apparently enough to convince them to have a meal with him.

With that, Celegorm got to share his meal with elflings, which, as he knows, always mellow people up to talking.

The children were really cute, despite hiding their faces behind their cloaks. Especially their conversations when they think he can’t hear.

“Huh, you guys noticed he looks kind of really pretty?” Alyastar whispers, unknowing she was loud enough for a hunter’s ear to register. “But like, he reminds me of Luna.”

“Alyastar! Don’t say that.” Celegorm paused just for a second. That language- It was foreign to him, and rough, without doubt, a mannish language. Which means they must have been born in Middle earth, or at least their parents. To think those that experienced unspoken horrors there, left their children roam free like this-

“Oh? Am I handsome?” He says, with a growing smile trying to rid himself of these dark thoughts. Surely those parents weren't that carefree.

The only confirmed girl of the bunch squealed before nodding vigorously. “Yes! You really have a good face, and your silver hair goes really well with you!”

Aþumon groans form the side, hiding his face in second hand embarrassment.

Celegorm chuckles. “Well, I thank you, young maiden, perhaps you’d let me see your face too?”

And once again, the conversation goes to an abrupt stop. The children do that often, he noticed. Mírion, straightens up, grabbing attention from Alyastar who looked extremely nervous about showing their face.

“We’d rather not.” He says, almost quiet, but firm.

“We’re very private.” Laimandir adds, going closer to Alyastar in a protective stance.

Celegorm forcefully relaxes his body and puts that as another suspicious thing going on with these elflings. Maybe they're hiding scars- STOP IT. Surely, Celegorm must be just overthinking.

“The food is ready.” He says instead, watching as the kids relax seeing as he let the matter go. It’s not forgotten in his mind though.

They eat quietly, and when they were almost done, Celegorm started asking another set of small questions. “So, where do you hail from? If you know where you live, I would not mind taking you to your house’s doorstep.” And talk to the adults supervising you. He adds in his mind.

Aþumon liked his lips off the deer’s fat, answering: “No, that’s okay-ouch!”

Faelnor gives the other boy a significant look, before facing Celegorm. “We’re very far north. You wouldn’t happen to know where exactly we are, Lord Celegorm?”

“An hour from Formenos I’d say. That’s the place where I live now” And wow, it did tell them something, but obviously not enough to put two and two together to recognize who Celegorm is.

“Formenos?!” Aþumon cried. “But that’s-”

“-farther than we expected.” Mírion finishes smoothly, Faelnor stuffing the other’s mouth with the roasted deer.

“Mhm.” Aþumon nods and averts his gaze.

“Can you tell me where you live now that you know where we are, little ones?” Celegorm prompts them again. Mírion looks lost and looks towards his friends.

“It’s- somewhere north?” Aþumon says, looking helplessly at Faelnor.

“…yeah.”

So. Talking about their home location is also off the table. Is there at least something that doesn’t scream suspicious?

Celegorm sighs. “Is there any way for me to find your relatives at the very least?”

Even though his face is veiled under the cloak, he can see Faelnor biting their lips. “Depends, do you happen to have an owl? Or, well, ink and parchment?”

“All in Formenos, I’m afraid.” Then he blinks. “Also, an owl? What for?”

Faelnor drops in disappointment. “To send a message with, of course. They’re the best when delivering things. They’ll always find a way to their addressee even if we don’t know where they are.”

Celegorm has so many questions. Who was in charge of their education?

“I’m afraid owls are not carrier pigeons, much less eagles of likes of Manwe. A random owl cannot bring a message to your parents.” He says, patronizing, because owls simply can’t do that.

Faelnor bristled, and Asumon let out a soft “uh-oh.”

“They can.” He speaks fervently in a way that made him tingle. “They’re far smarter than you think.”

“No, they’re not.” He corrects Faelnor. “As big as they seem, and as wise as they may appear, their intelligence is lacking. The ability to find an addressee without even knowing them is,” ridiculous “, an improbable ability to have in owls.” He finishes.

“Maybe you never actually tried to send a message by them.” She says and he of course he’s going to have to have a conversation like that with a kid.

“Faelnor,” He says softly, reminding himself how different the names are, and that it’s a child he’s talking to. “If an owl was such a talented messenger, do you not think they would have been used much more often?” Always?

“Maybe no one discovered their ability yet.” Faelnor retorts.

“Listen-”

“Pigwigeon!” Aþumon suddenly cried out in joy as- an owl, a tiny scops owl, flew and rolled in the snow, dragging a letter that was way bigger than its body. It chirped merrily in greeting, jumping into Aþumon’s arms,

Alyastar clapped her hands. “Finally! What does it say?”

Celegorm stared blankly as the far too intelligent owl started proudly recounting his journey like a survival adventure, up to asking for another letter to deliver. Of course, he’s the only one listening as the little bird, Pigwigeon apparently, brags.

What.

But he had no time to process the odd bird as they started to read the letter aloud. Celegorm listens in too.

Aþumon cleared his throat. “Dear dummy sib- sibling.” They all look at each other, and Aþumon continues. “I have no idea how, but you landed yourselves all the way close to Formenos, which is month away, from our home by horse. You’re lucky we’re not planning to take that long, as I’ll be there in a few days. Don’t die until then, keep each other safe, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. I know you have survival skills when you were all alone in a forest once that one month, so I trust you to take care of others. We’ll see each other in a few days, hopefully less. Once we meet, do remember to recount what happened that caused you to land yourselves so far from home. With love, your eldest brother. Ps. There’s a pen in the envelope, write back if anything changed or happened.” He finishes with a pinched look. He takes out the pen but that wasn’t the point of focus now.

“Days!” Laimandir cried out. That’s so long!

Frankly, Celegrom was concerned. First by the owl that found them by mysterious means and the nonchalance of the sender at his siblings being stranded somewhere. And was that month alone in woods real, or just a miswriting?

“Well, that’s shorter than I thought.” Faelnor said, with a nod. Everyone looked at her. “What? Since Lord Celegorm confirmed we’re an hour away from Formenos, that means we’re at least a month away from home. Seriously, did no one study the map?”

“How did you land yourselves so far from home in the first place?” Celegorm interrupts.

“…Group effort?” Which tells him nothing.

Celegorm pinches his nose. “Right. You can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” Mírion asks him.

Exasperatedly, the elf points at everything.

“You’re in the middle of a forest far in North. We have polar bears coming around if one’s unlucky enough.” Celegorm says, hoping a light scare would get the children out of this place. Waiting for a while is one thing, letting them stay for days is another. Also, what he said was a compete lie. Polar bears don’t actually come here unless in a pelt form, but the children didn’t need to know that.

The children looked pointedly at Mírion.

Mírion seems to be about to say something else but then sags. “Damnit, I can’t believe you decided based on my luck.” Then he sighs. “Alright, do you know where we should go, though?”

Perfect.

“Formenos welcomes people of all kinds.” He offers immediately, very much aware that he just plagiarized his nephew’s words. Not that anyone likes to visit Formenos. The exile only said to be as far away as possible from Sindar, and why rebuild when you already have an awful place to repent in?

Faelnor eyes him suspiciously. “It doesn’t sound very welcoming to me.”

“It was built in difficult times.” He says dodgingly.

“Doesn’t sound like an answer though.” Faelnor retorts.

“It doesn’t. Do yours?” Celegorm fires back.

Aþumon coughs. “He’s got a point.”

Celegorm crouches down. “I’d like to invite you to stay for a while in my dwelling. It is not far, an hour away from here. You can rest there, until your siblings reach you.”

“Is it a choice we can make though?” And the suspicion was back. Mírion and Faelnor might be one who voiced concerns, but the tension radiated from all. Who made them so distrustful? “You won’t force us?”

Uh- “It is up to you, whether you want to go with me, or stay here. However, if you chose to stay here, I will stay to guard you, as forests are dangerous and unpredictable.” Because he wasn’t leaving them here alone.

“And if we… don’t like your hospitality once we’re there? Could we- leave whenever we want?” Mírion asked, tense.

He really needs to talk to whoever raised them.

With a deep breath and trying to ignore the look Maedhros would have, if five elflings decided to leave into the dangerous forests all by themselves once arriving, he answered. Ai, he'll need to tell Russo.

“Everyone is free to come and leave.” Unless the destination they leave to, is Gilmith, the city of the Sindar. “But I would like to know beforehand if you do so. I would not want for something terrible to befall you.”

They look unsure of themselves. “And you won’t force us?” They sound small.

“No. Of course not.” He says quickly, lest they take his silence for something worse. “You must understand, that seeing elflings alone without anyone- is upsetting.”

He almost thinks they’d say no.

It’s silent for a while, each glancing at each other. Finally, Mírion, like back then at the tree, steps forward first.

“Alright.”

_________________________________________________________________

>Amrod, before meeting Mandos<

Amrod thinks he may have been in these halls. Maybe. Briefly. So shortly that he doesn’t remember. He walks through the tapestries, watching various stories unfolding. There is nothing much more to do but that, when waiting to meet Námo.

Maybe because of that, he doesn’t notice he’s in front of a familiar face until he’s psychically stopped.

“Amrod?” The hand on his shoulder is cooling. A proof whatever is touching him is disembodied. He abruptly turns around, only to see-

“Aikanáro?!”

The figure shook its head. “To me, it’s Aegnor.” He still had that frazzled gold hair look but morbidly, he reminded him of magical ghosts, those, that refused to let go of the past, lingering on their seconds of deaths, retaining form of it.

“Aegnor.” He repeats. “I thought- I thought all of- all were re-embodied?”

“And I believed of Fëanor’s sons, to one be lost.” Aegnor retorts. “Yet you are here, reembodied, yet bear scars after wars. Amrod… You don’t make sense. Did you perhaps go back to Middle Earth like Glorfindel? I heard not of you.”

Amrod contemplates his answers and decides-

Well, he never intended to lie as much as postpone the truth. “I never stepped onto the lands of Middle Earth. Ever. Nor my hands, nor my feet, nor body or head, did ever touch Middle Earth’s soils.” He says honestly.

Aegnor looks puzzled. He also looks like a ghost that came from a war, therefore with swords and spears sticking from his body.

“You’re not healed.” Amrod says softly. Like, at all.

“And you do not flinch, from the blood that drips from me. And yet, you say you never went to Middle Earth, therefore could not have sustained the injuries of war you clearly wear.” Aegnor says. He’s so… he’s much calmer that the several thousands ago.

“Some things aren’t meant to make sense, cousin.” He says to Aegnor.

‘Some things aren’t meant to make sense, Arthur.’ Molly's voice echoes in his thoughts.

Aegnor watches him. Amrod looks back, each studying the other.

“You’ve changed.” Aegnor says.

“You did too.” Amrod says back.

“Never would I fathomed, for you to call me cousin. Cousin.”

“Things are different, now.” Amrod knows, that back then, they were but strangers, forced not to associate by their fathers, and not yet so brave, as their brothers, to disobey. “Why do you stay here?” He asks, finally.

“Indeed, why.” After a while, he talks again. “Walk by me?”

Amrod does. The two of them walk, all the way to a tapestry where there sits Finrod, by a hu- er mannish woman.

Aegnor cocks his head. “By Finrod’s side, that’s Saelind. Andreth.” He whispers and the longing and affection told him everything he needed to know.

“Mortal.” He breathes out involuntarily, flinching as Aegnor comes at him with fire.

“She wasn’t just that! Hear, she was wise, the wisest of all men, and beautiful in fëa you could not understand…” He almost feels swept by the emotion Aegnor vibrates.

“Surely not.” He agrees. “Love comes in all kinds, and yours is a fire well matching with your name. Were you wed?” He asks.

Aegnor shakes his head. “What Eldar marries during tidings of war? Nay, we did not, and I will wait here, in those halls, until we shall meet again, contemplating things that could have happened were times different.”

“I see.” He nods in understanding which Aegnor took badly.

“You do not, and so can’t Carnistir, the brother of yours, that claimeth to love Haleth, yet left those halls like such love held little meaning.”

Now, his family did a lot of wrongs, but you won’t slander him for this. Also, his brother loved Haleth? Why is there no writing of such!? Then again, Carnistir was married prior to departure, though the current situation of their relationship may not be great…

“Love comes in many shapes and forms, and some deaths may not be as shattering as others.” Amrod said mildly. “Some may lose all sense of colour when they lose their half, some may feel emptiness, and some may walk away in pain and hurt but recover overtime. Each loss is not the same, grief of each creature is not the same. Carnistir may be mourning her still, or maybe he found in himself to move on. It does not make the love they had any less true.”

“HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?!” Aegnor shouts, and Amrod-

Amrod steps closer, to let him take sight of it in his eyes. It’s the bond, but dimmed, for those mortal, they may never come back. She’s far away from him. Sundered, but the bond will always be there. It doesn’t shine, as a regular bond would, but it’s there, it’s the proof that what they had, is real.

Aegnor did not recognise this marriage bond of this kind, different from all others, but realized the implication behind it.

“It does not make my love of her any less true.” Amrod says with certainty.

For a while, it’s only silence that dominated between them.

Facts and other things:

1>Ösanwë 

Ösanwë is really some spiritual mind chat thing, but the kids aren’t good at multitasking, so they fall eerily silent during that. It’s easy, but they’re not twin proficient yet.

2>Aegnor the Amrod

Aegnor could have been Amrod, if Amrod didn’t have the name first. They both fell in love with a mortal though.

3> Elflings

Boy and girl voices, when young, sound very similar, elflings especially so.

With their faces hidden, and children voices being often androgynous in elves, Celegorm doesn’t want to assume.

Hermione being Feanorian proud saying  it's her ‘ingenious trap’ sets off Celegrom’s alarm bells because Curufn used to say the same. He just doesn’t yet know that these are alarm bells.

4> To your parents

Celegorm internally when interacting with the elflings: Your adult supervision must be either carefree or stupid.

Amrod: I mean-

5> Animal geek.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a kid, if you’re wrong about an animal fact, Celegorm will correct you.

Magical Earth’s owls may look the same as owls in Arda but they’re not the same. It’s the magic in their blood. But this animal man is affronted. Pigwigeon came to destroy an argument Celegorm was very confident about, poor guy.

6> Age and responsibity 

Contrary to what Celegorm sees, Bill is panicking. But in lowercase because he doesn’t want his siblings to panic too.

Celegorm is convinced the siblings are adults lol.

In his defence, (in this AU) Elves here have children in intervals of 100 years, partly because they need to rest a while before having another child and partly to enjoy the child’s growth. I think 50 is the shortest interval ever, between siblings, not counting peredhel.

Now Celegorm watching a 28-year-old arriving, to get his siblings.

Celegorm:

Celegorm: You’re a baby!

7> Aegnor and Andreth

It’s a sad story, and Aegnor was prepared to stay there in the halls, forever. Like, he got Finrod tell Andreth their love was real, but like, he really, really wanted to tell her himself. Instead, he watches as she ages and dies and their love making up nothing. It’s a tragedy.

Many of his family tried to get him out, but Aegnor is stubborn, so he stayed until Námo noticed that Amrod is coming, and what’s better way for a therapy session but with someone who also experienced mortal love? It went better than with Idril or Caranthir, admittedly.

Aegnor: WhO wOuLd MaRrY dUrInG wAr?

Amrod: Uh-

Names:

Ginny – Ruivën – Wildfire

Luna – Tercenien – Through/Pierce+see = Piercing sight

Hannah – Alyastar – Fair/good + Loyalty/faith = Good faith

Harry - Mírion – Jewel+son = tresured son

Neville — Laimandir – Plant+ friend/lover = plant loving

Hermione – Failanár – Fair minded, just + fire = Fire of justice

Ron – Aþumon – Friend at need

Fred - Nyatsorëon  – Magpie-Smile = Smiling magpie

George -Nyatsalasën – Mapie-Happiness = Joyful magpie

Percy –Sanairë –thinker/reflect+lament = Thinking regret

Charlie – Ronyangon – Chaser+dragons = dragon chasing

Bill – Alacarnassë -Well done/made+nature = good natured

Chapter Text

Formenos was indeed only an hour away.

Huan took three of the children while he rode with two, all of them looking increasingly nervous as they came closer to their fortress. He held Mírion and Faelnor while Huan had the rest.

“It’s not… as intimidating as it seems from the outside.” He says awkwardly seeing their growing unease. A snow covered, very unfriendly looking, castle perched atop the mountain looking no more welcome as it did millennia ago.

Aþumon looks at it with heavy skepticism. “It looks like a place where someone died.”

Uh-oh.

Celegorm looks at the kid. “Where did you get the idea?” Because clearly, this kid wasn’t following their history, openly guessing like that.

“In stories?” The child says nonchalantly.

Faelnor gasps from Huan. “Oh, I get it, is it like book we read, ‘The Blood Countess!” Others nod at that.

Celegorm’s body chilled at that tittle. What.

Aþumon’s face looks pinched. “I meant the story of The Warlock's Hairy Heart from the Beedle and the Bard but yeah, I guess that story can apply too.”

“… I’m afraid I never hear of this book.” Celegorm wasn't sure he even wanted to read it.

Alyastar explains despite not asking: “It’s actually a diary of one of the victims about a real case. A young girl is invited along with her pregnant mother to a castle, where countess Elizabeth Bathory resides. It’s a really nice story in the beginning, looking as is countess was just a generous lady, but later you realize that she invites young women and pregnant mothers to her castle to kill them and bath in their blood for skincare. Pretty messed up, if you ask me.”

WHAT.

Celegorm cleared his throat. There was so much to unpack with that sentence alone. “Do you usually read similar kinds of stories?”

Alyastar denies it. “No. It was homework.”

“Homework.” Celegorm repeats, feeling more and more out of depth.

Aþumon nodded. “Yeah, like, whether she was a hag or a vampire. I still think she was a vampire.”

Faelnor, disagreed, believing otherwise. “Why would she kidnap pregnant women though? Only hags eat babies.” They eat what.

“Well, I still think she’s a vampire, because their bodies were found. Everyone knows hags eat you down from skin to bone. They found their bodies intact but bloodless.” Aþumon countered. People let children read that??  “Maybe, she had a twisted taste for young blood.”

Celegorm is really contemplating keeping them. At least they’d be away from whoever let them read that. It’s not like they didn’t do it before.

“Anyway.” Celegorm interrupted, feeling rather horrified from his newly acquired knowledge. “How did the…book end? Did she survive?”

Faelnor looks at him oddly. “You know if she did, we wouldn’t have been calling her the victim.”

“…”

Celegorm wisely did not ask further on the book, lest whoever taught them found the same end.

They finally arrive. Thankfully, otherwise Celegorm would have a few words said about the person who made them read that, none flattering.

“We’re here little ones.” Huan says, lowering himself to let the children slide down. It was midnight. Far past the bedtime for the elflings. It was rather quiet, ignoring Maglor’s haunting ever present melody.

“Are we interrupting?” Laimandir whispers, listening in to the song played. Figures, elflings always get mesmerized by the songs played by his brother. Though this one, as always, was a bit too heavy for little ones to listen to.

“No,” He denies, a sombre mood overcoming him, maybe the song, or the thought of his older brother influencing him. “He won’t notice a thing, even if we’re loud.”

 He ushers them quietly to-

Uh-

Do they have rooms prepared?

Probably not. And it wouldn’t do to rouse the whole house for this.

Celegorm quickly comes up with a solution. “You don’t mind sharing a bed?”

They all shake their heads.

“We’re used to sleeping together.” Adds one.

They go in, leaving-

“Huan is not going with us?” Alyastar asks, looking as Huan leaves along with the horse.

“Huan likes to sleep under stars.” Celegorm explains.

“We could have slept under the stars.” Aþumon says, in a picture of stubbornness.

“In that cold?” He counters.

“It’s not that cold in these.” Aþumon doesn’t skip a beat parading his cloak.

Celegorm doubts that.

Now, as they were going in, Celegorm had few options, rouse his entire family, father, nephew, brothers, and all, or, put them the children to sleep and deal with the repercussions later in the morning.

He was always a fan of dealing with things at later date.

With the decision made, Celegorm quietly, quietly, takes the children into his room without anyone noticing. It also happened to be the closest bedroom. He may have the flashiest hair, but he was never lacking in stealth. Fortunately, him sneaking in, out, and with baggage on his side was an everyday thing an if the silhouettes seemed to have limbs, well, he did have a record of sneaking living things home. Maybe by the morning he could come up with something to say besides ‘I nicked them off the forests’ to Maedhros.

He ushers them into his room. At first, they all look around and something dawns at them then.

Faelnor is the fastest to fire the question. “This is your room?” She asks immediately.

“You see a better hunter occupying this place?” It was full of his trophies. Pelt, antlers and things he made with them. “You can sleep on the bed.” He gestures at his fur decorated bed.

Mírion frowns. “But where would you sleep?”

“I have a hammock.” He offered. Not that he would sleep on it. He needs to create a speech that would explain why he got 5 kids here. And hopefully keep them.

Aþumon is also displeased. “We could sleep on the hammock instead.”

“You’d fall over with all that movement. There’s five of you.” Ambarussa couldn’t do it either. And there was only two of them. Though to be fair, both moved a lot during sleep.

“It feels like pity.” Aþumon says, with a little more fire, and aversion to the word.

You’re children. Where does your pride come from?

Alyastar interjects as if knowing what Celegorm thought. “It’s… a bit hard for us, as you’re giving us things without asking anything in return, you, um, please understand, my- friends think it suspicious.”

Oh. Celegorm frowns. That doesn’t sound good. That’s-

“I tell you what, what about we all share a bed?” Faelnor says exasperatedly. “It’s big enough for all of us!” Indeed, it was big enough, because he and Huan sometimes shared space when Huan wasn’t in mood sleeping homeless.

“Her- Faelnor!” Aþumon hisses.

“What? You have a better idea?”

“The…Hammock doesn’t look comfortable.” Laimandir adds. “What if he falls off it?”

Like Void Celegorm would fall of a hammock of his own making. On the other hand, it’s not often an elf gets to nap with 5 elflings at once. Especially someone with his reputation.

For that reason alone, Celegorm puts his most handsome smile he knew elves swooned back in the day and waited as the children fell into silence and through it, came to a decision.

“Well, fine. But if it goes wrong-”

“It’s my fault, I know.” He can feel Faelnor roll his eyes. They all take off their shoes but hesitate at their cloaks. They turn to stare at him for a while.

“You don’t have to take them off.” He wonders if they would jump off from a nearby window if they did. He did happen to have his room on the ground floor for his escapes after all. He hopes they won't.

They relaxed as they all lie down waiting for Celegorm to join them. They still looked uneasy though, until he realized-

They’re waiting for him to sleep first.

Talk about paranoia.

So, for their sound mind, Celegorm pretends to be asleep, consciously dimming his light a little, his eyes looking devoid of thought.

He did not expect to fall asleep for real.

_________________________________________________

“I see. So that happened. How come it didn’t happen with others?” Aegnor asked.

“Námo was after that prepared to catch them all so it wouldn’t repeat.”

“You know, they used to say you weren’t in the halls. Left by himself, they said. No one heard of you though.” Aegnor reminisces. Technically truth, these bastards.

“And then?”

“Well, I think after Námo said that you left he also added the knowledge where you were was sundered from him. Your family went on a hunt for you. Even Celegorm couldn’t find you, but with you being that gone, it all makes sense now.”

“I’m not as surprised at their vagueness as I should be.” Amrod comments, shaking his head exasperatedly. Ainur and Ainur-adjacent had always the most cryptic responses.

“Indeed, and- you said you came with… children. Peredhel?” Aegnor asks softly.

“I did, yes.” His lips curl into a smile while thinking about his chaotic children. What were they doing now?

“How many?” Aegnor asks in growing curiosity.

“A dozen.” He says honestly. Amrod’s fëa is warm. It spreads, the warmth that does not burn, but comforts.

“A doz-” Aegnor paused, his eyes comically widening. “A what?”

“Dozen.” Amrod says proudly. “They’re my pride and joy.”

“You- But how?”

Amrod smiles, if a bit bashfully. “We were very active in our relationship.”

Aegnor sent him a look. “I hardly believe ‘being active’ is the key to many children.”

Amrod shrugs. “Then I have not many answers I could give you.”

“Idril and Tuor sired one child. Beren and Lúthien sired one child. And yet, you have 12 with a mortal lady.” Aegnor recites. “It is a fact union between a man and elf have a hard time conceiving more than one child, the case of Elros, Elwing, Ëarendil, Aragorn and Arwen being both part elven, man and of maian is what caused them to have more than one child.

“She wasn’t just that.” He says, echoing Aegnor’s earlier words. “She wasn’t just a man, to begin with. Mortal, indeed. A man, that is debateable, for we do not know of how many similarities between Eru’s worlds are. She was…a magical mortal, so much more versatile to Maiar, and yet, much less in power. Part-maia. Our love was as fiery as it was fleeting. I cannot explain how much passion we exchanged, and to me, if not passion, what else sired my children?”

Aegnor accepts the answer leaning onto wall that faced against the tapestries. “But 12?”

“You cannot blame me for trying to keep as much of her as I could.”

“No, I suppose not.” Aegnor agrees, wondering in his mind, what kind of life they would have led, if he and Saelind married, back then. Would they have children, as numerous, as joy bringing and as fear raising, as Amrod has? But those are but stray thoughts, that cannot be undone or changed.

After a while, he asks, another thought occurring to him. “And what of their mortality?” For they were part mortal, and not of this world.

“I’m waiting for answers, it is my hope they are immortal as us.” Amrod says, heavy feeling settling between them.

“And if they aren’t?” Aegnor asks. “Will you-” love them less for it? Amrod gives him a sharp look. It feels surreal to Aegnor. Time flows differently to him, both agonizingly slow and quick in succession of tragedies. Amrod was the shyer of the twins, back in Aman. One most doubting of his brothers and their doomed Oath.

But now, Amrod had grown to be his own person. He wears his own scars apart from Amras, his own experiences, and is much more, than he was before.

Back when Trees lit their whole world, Ambarussa were but two adolescent elves, wandering the forests with their brothers, curious and adventurous and carefree despite the growing tension of the kingdom. One darker haired, but so similar they were two of one. Indecisive, used to following than leading.

Amrod before him isn’t Ambarussa. He’s Amrod alone, a father, a husband. His eyes feel mature in a way he before wasn’t, much like Aegnor’s own father, a demeanor of a parent, he realizes. And right now, Amrod looks at him in warning, a fire igniting inside him, daring Aegnor to even imply, that he would love or care for his children less.

“Then I will cherish our moments together and their growth, much, much, more." He says, a conviction in his voice.

They fall into a comfortable silence.

“Tell me.” Aegnor breaks the solemnity coming to a decision swiftly. “Tell me, how you endure the loss, Amrod. Help me endure it.” Images of his relatives visiting only to turn away in sadness sticks out of his mind. Maybe, maybe it’s time for him to stop wallowing.

____________________________________________________________________

Harry wakes up first, body tense but quiet, rigidly still. Sleep never came easy to him, and when it did, it was always of the short-lived kind. His body feels heavy as he gets up from the sleeping bodies. He casts them a look, reassuring himself they were fine, before leaving the room in quietness.

It’s still embedded in his mind, the general lack of safety and need to be always alert. Not Voldemort, Death Eaters do plague his sleep, but the lack of a safe place is what eats him at night.

It makes him sleep lightly and tensely. They do not happen as often as before, when they freshly arrived, but the fact they’re in an unknown place might have aggrieved his alertness.

He doesn’t think he can sleep again.

He does what he does best when he can’t sleep.

He wanders.

The silver elf looks fast asleep, as do his siblings, none roused by his gradual sliding down the bed.

His feet touch the ground, making not too loud of a noise and Harry quietly picks up his shoes before leaving the room. They look peaceful, piled together. At least Harry won’t feel so bad for taking a short walk. With a last look from the doors, he leaves.

The place is cold. And not in Araman kind of way, the dreadful kind, but cold in spirit. Like something heavy and painful stood on its roof, suffocating everyone living inside it.

Harry desperately hopes it’s not a murder story unfolding right there, with his siblings being next victims. Though, if that was the case, he would be the first to die, going out first and all, Harry thinks bemusedly. It’s what happened in that horror movie the Dursleys accidentally let running once. The setting is all in place, pitch dark night with ominous blue lights, cold, unforgiving weather and castle that looks like it’s experiencing depression.

After stepping out, he wore the shoes for a small walk.

The sound of his steps carried, unlike in Celegorm’s rooms.

It may be because the place was bare, tiles of uniform grey, cold stone stacked in a precise way it made him uneasy. So perfect, so calculated. It was colourless. Devoid of joy or anything resembling it. It all looked stern, unforgiving and harsh like the cold that raged outside. No plants decorated the place, and only solemnity remained. Harry doesn’t think he would like to live there. Granted, it could still be better than the Dursleys, with the pretty sick look that would make them faint but… it felt unwelcoming.

Cold.

He turns around, making sure he just went the straight way. Good. He’s not lost. He contemplates whether he should attempt to go farther when sets of footsteps freeze him. They’re heavy, fast paced, and Harry jolts. Should he- Should he hide? Should he show himself? To be honest, the way Celegorm bought them in felt more like smuggling, was it okay for him to be here?

Except the steps stop and Harry realizes he doesn’t have much of a choice as the corridor he’s in is hard to hide in and he’s in full view to the person who stopped right there, staring at him. The light in their eyes from the distance reminded him of their own father. The figure is undoubtedly tall, though adults probably all are for him right now. There was a certain air of age to them, Harry couldn’t quite understand.

Harry positions himself just the right way to get away if needed as the figure approaches him. They’re slower than before, not in hurry at all like they were before. The figure stops a good distance from him and he- uh- He looks similar to Hermione in some parts. Of course there were differences, the dark hair and the softer chin and overally not looking as sharp facially as Hermione. It was odd, now that he thinks of it, that this person could actually fit into their gallery without much trying.

“An elfling?” He asks, in Quenya, thankfully, quite quizzed.

 Silence stretches between them.

“Suilánte?” Harry said hesitantly, but the elf looks even more confused.

“There is an elfling within these halls? Here?” And well, Harry agrees, he probably wouldn’t want to live here even back when he was a legitimate child without trauma and dead bodies to bury unless it was the only way out of Dursleys.

“We were… lost in the woods. An elf offered us to stay until they find us.” Harry tells the elf.

The unknown elf blinks.

“Us? Little one, who bought you in?”

Harry opens his mouth, and closes it, deciding on his options. Would he get in trouble?

“He wouldn’t.” The elf assures him. Harry blinks. Did he say it out loud? “It is only right for kin to provide a safe place to the young that are lost and found in forests. Yet still, could you tell me their name?”

Harry thinks about it. He felt… sincere. And dad did say their sense of truth is heightened… but what if he’s wrong?

“I-“ Should he? “Um, it was lord Celegorm. And Huan.” He adds the hound’s name as he seemed important too. “Me and my-” siblings “-friends got stranded.” He finishes lamely feeling like he pulled his own teeth.

“Celegorm?” The figure murmurs with a frown. He then sighs. “I’m sure uncle Maedhros will know by the morning anyway.” He then glances at him again, lips turning into a small smile.

It feels forced, not in a foul way, but in the tired kind.

“Apologies, this late night must have stolen my good manners.” He says. “I am Celebrimbor Curufinion, may I asketh your name?”

“Mírion.” Harry answers a bit shy.

Celebrimbor cocks his head in sudden thought, but then he shakes it away, his hands moving to-

“Wait-”

The hood falls down all too easily off his head. Celebrimbor’s hands freeze and he’s- he’s staring. Into his eyes. He looks mesmerized, looking at Harry, hands seem to shake a bit and Harry in wariness jumps away a great distance. That seems to wake the elf up from whatever trance he was in. Still, the elf clutches his hands together rubs them uncontrollably, inhaling and exhaling before speaking.

“Little one. If sleep does not call for you, would you mind if I show you, my study?”

I don’t know, will you kill me there if I do, and kill me anyway if I don’t? Harry thinks sardonically in his head. He doesn’t voice the concerns in that way.

“Will you do anything to me?” He asks. Celebrimbor freezes, before visibly shaking his head. “Nothing will happen to you there. You’ll be safe, it’s safe.” Harry winces at the tone, the elf looking like he was reassuring himself. He must have stepped on a landmine. A stab of guilt hit him. Harry looked towards the way he came from, where he could see the doors still, behind which his siblings are.

Well, he has plenty of time.

“I don’t mind going.” He answers and Celebrimbor looks ecstatic. For some reason, for that elf, him going to his study was important.

If I die, it’s on my stupidity, Harry thinks, as he follows the elf towards some place.

___________________________________

Meanwhile, Neville awakens to a missing Harry and has an encounter of his own.

1>Vampires and Hags

There do exist Vampires in Tolkien-verse so no problem on that part. Besides that, to Celegorm, a hag just means some kind of evil woman instead of race. So he’s under impression its some horrible cannibalism thing.

I’m of belief that due to HP magical community, being still old-fashioned in an ancient kind, they have no child censor bare the minimum of the more extreme acts. Beetle and the bard having three brothers in which two die horribly is an example of magical community being still stuck in age of ‘fairy tales are warnings for children to not do something’.

Which means they pretty much have some gruesome stories here and there. And you can bet Salem witch trials are there somewhat in a child version that tells the kids not to go near muggles. HP wiki also states they had a Brother Grim book in Hogwarts. So yeah. That’s a fun read. They’ve also been ‘adults’ which means more content to read. They probably read the Countess Elizabeth Bathory as a mandatory read for defence from Snape because he’d be an asshole like that. Let’s also not forget that shrieking book Harry read in his first year. (The image of a face coming out of the book is still unsettling to me). Elizabeth Bathory is a real person, just so you know.

2> Fool

If you thought Celegorm interacting with them wouldn’t end with him wanting to keep them, you’re a fool.

Also, as to why he wasn’t roused when elflings started to move from the bed, bedroom is a place of safety. It’s not one where he needs to be alert, which is why he completely fell into deep sleep, unaware of what’s happening.

3> Why Aegnor-Amrod worked, but Aegnor-Carnistir didn’t.

Aegnor takes Amrod’s love of a mortal better than Carnistirs. Carnistir’s romance was very bland, business like, which was why it wasn’t recorded well, unless you were family and knew that was courting via Carnistir’s love language.

Aegnor and Carnistir weren’t close, either by age gap or house rivalry. To Aegnor, Carnistir seemed far too sharp, like a hawk on a hunt, and too cold to be close and friendly with. Amrod is far more approachable and more relatable than Carnistir who doesn’t let out the emotions about Haleth come out, appearing heartless where he isn’t.

Amrod’s also more animated when talking about his children and wife, full of love and adoration. Mentioning their faults too, as a silly quirk that he loves about them, adds to the reality this elf was very happily married. He can also feel the sorrow of her death. Aegnor feels more connected to Amrod than with Carnistir due to that, especially as Carnistir talking about emotion is like pulling teeth.

6> Hostility of Formenos
Formenos was built after the banishment, which I would imagine did look majestic but in an unfriendly way to tell others to ‘screw off’. It’s uncomfortably geometrically structured in a way you feel oppressed just by looking at it from outside and much worse from inside. After they reembodied, filling the place with colour was least of their concerns. It looks grey and the snow sitting on that place makes it look all the more menacing. What once displayed anger and defiance now radiates a wave of horror and depression.

5> Celebrimbor

Not Celebrimbor slowing down when noticing Harry in a fight or flee stance. This boy noticed right away.

Harry’s eyes conveniently kickstarts his creative nature once again.

Names:

Ginny– Ruivën – Wildfire

Luna – Tercenien – Through/Pierce+see = Piercing sight

Hannah– Alyastar – Fair/good + Loyalty/faith = Good faith

Harry - Mírion – Jewel+son = Jewelled son

Neville- Laimandir – Plant+ friend/lover = plant loving

Hermione – Failanár/Faelnor – Fair minded, just + fire = Fire of justice

Ron– Aþumon – Friend at need

Fred- Nyatsorëon – Magpie-Smile = Smiling magpie

George -Nyatsalasën – Mapie-Happiness = Joyful magpie

Percy –Sanairë –thinker/reflect+lament = Thinking regret

Charlie– Ronyangon – Chaser+dragons = dragon chasing

Bill – Alacarnassë -Well done/made+nature = good natured

Chapter Text

Neville wakes up next. He groggily looks around his siblings before freezing upon seeing a missing person. It never boded well when Harry went missing, without Hermione or Ron to keep him afloat.

He could rouse the only adult t come looking for Harry. Instead, he goes looking for him himself.

He slides off the bed, Hermione stirring a bit, not awaking. He went outside, slightly shaking in phantom cold from the darkness that emitted from the walls. It reminds him of Hogwarts, before the three siblings of his came. Where there was only him and Hannah for support, in the sea of uncertainty and blind hope. Before the final stand, when Carrows roamed the school and terrorised countless people.

It felt like the whole magic of Hogwarts seeped in shades of grey, and while there wasn’t real cold, it still felt chilling in your soul. Formenos felt the same but also like it suffered far longer than it did Hogwarts.

“Harry?” He says into the quietness of the castle. No one answers him and Neville walks farther and farther from Celegorm’s rooms. He forgets the way back. He never was good at remembering things that did not hold his interest. Still, he does not stop after realizing so. There's no point as he already forgot the way back. He nudges into the bond, and knows, Harry’s fine, if bewildered. He's glad. Another worry put to rest. He wonders what the bewilderment it was about.

Neville walks and walks and tries to follow the bond when-

A suddenly playing harp stops him. It’s a haunting melody. Similar to the song mermaids of the lake sang for them, in a rarity of the moment, for their lost friends. At Dumbledore's funeral for example. Or like Delacour did, to their lost ones at funerals. Yet much more horrible, heart wrenching, and so, so well done.

It’s odd, for a song to be played so late in night, where others sleep, while the song tries to reach others with its lament. He listens, reminiscing about his own loses. The song still plays when he remembers he is still looking for Harry.

“It’s beautiful.” He murmurs quietly hoping not to interrupt. Sad, but hauntingly well composed song.

The music went to an abrupt stop.

And after a while, it didn’t seem the harpist will play again. Neville craned his head a bit,for maybe the harpist played quieter but no, there was only the oppressing silence. Instead of waiting for it to play again, he resumed walking, only to be spooked by the quick heavy steps clapping from the corridor. It was a rhythmic, speedy walk, that added to the eeriness of the place.

Neville freezes, his eyes widening and grew still. The sound of footsteps stop too. Now that doesn’t sound very good.

Neville walks again and the sound of footsteps of someone bigger resume too. His heart quickens, and breath catches his throat as he faintly realises, he’s being chased. Someone, something, was after him.

And while dad promised safety in Valinor, it’s hard to break habits. Carrows made those haunting steps too, right before they tortured him for defiance. They hurt him, beaten him, scarred him and used the cruciatus on him and he was gritting his teeth, keeping to his sanity tooth and nail, hoping, wishing, praying ‘please don’t make me the same as my parents’

His gran wouldn’t be able to take it. He wouldn’t be able to take it.

His breath caches his throat and he, in panic speeds up, the unknown steps doing the same. He made a sharp turn, diving behind thick curtains close to the window and he stays still. Sometimes it worked with the Carrows. Sometimes they would look around, and leave. But sometimes they would find them, or he had to go forward because others do not deserve to be tortured, to break which is what Carrows strove to do, into the numb, empty shell his parents became.

But here it’s just him and so Neville hides and waits for whoever was looking for him to leave.

The steps grow slower and before long, it’s silent again. Neville isn’t stupid, he isn’t. This could very well be a trick, so he stays in place for a few instances longer, before moving the curtain. The coast could have been clear except for the shadow looming over him.

Yeah, maybe he should have waited longer. 

Don’t cover. Be brave. Neville reminds himself and gets up, to the full view to the person. He’s so tall. And-

Anxiety washes off him as he gets a better view of the person. His hair was long and dark as the night, unbrushed, frazzled. His big sunken silver eyes shone with unspoken haunts and the light of the moon showcased the unhealthy paleness and thinness of the body. He shone, like all elves who saw the light of teh trees or came from teh line of it, do.

One hand looks awfully damaged, and the other holds a harp of considerable size without a problem, as if not at all feeling the weight of it.

He’s not scary now that he sees him like this. Haunted, in a way people in the healing ward are, although not too far to be empty of mind like his parents, but far enough to be locked in there.

All of sudden, it feels all the sillier that he ran away from this person. This person isn’t the Carrows. This isn’t a Death Eater. He’s just a damaged elf in a castle that seems to only add in weight.

And the elf- he gets down on one knee and speaks, it’s Sindarin, and while the words are soft and emitted kindness, Neville did not know it’s meanings. He makes no move to go closer but the way his hands move, he knows he wants to extend them towards him. Maybe it’s what prompts him to speak first.

“I’m sorry.” Neville says in shaky Quenya. “I can’t understand you.”

The person stills, before repeating the words, in Quenya this time. “Aiya, little one, where do you hail from?”

“North.” He says without hesitation. North was a vast place. Surely there was no issue with admitting on being farther than Formenos. “My-” He coughed. “We got lost in the forest. We’re waiting for Faelnor’s siblings to arrive to get us. Lord Celegorm offered us a stay until then.”

“Faelnor?” The person repeats, puzzled.

He’s not the only one to stumble on Hermione’s name. Celegorm did too, and Neville distantly wonders what it was about. The silence uncomfortably stretches. The reminder the person might actually stay that way is what makes Neville break the silence first.

“Um- who are you?” He asks, looking at the person.

The figure stills and draws a hackled laugh.

“Ai, you do not recognise me?” He asks, something broken coming out off him.

“I’m… sorry?” He stammers. It was… odd. Were they supposed to know them?

The figure shakes his head.

“No, no, no apologies are needed, not to me anyhow, although it is perplexing- My name is Maglor. Well met.” He looks expectant of Neville doing the same and he stammers his own name with much less grace.

“I’m-I’m Laimandir. Well met, sir” no “Lord Maglor.”

The figure still looks at him, his face full of something akin to wonder. He looks as if waiting for something to strike and Neville isn’t stupid to act unexpectedly around a person who looks sick.

“You haven’t slept well.” The person comments finally after a searching silence. Was it so obvious? They all are plagued by nightmares and when not nightmares then with restlessness that makes them unable to sleep longer than few hours, if even that.

“I was- I got up and Har- Mírion wasn’t in the bed, so I went looking for him. I-” Words caught on his throat.

>>A vision arrives, it’s Harry’s thought and what he sees. He’s fine, sitting in some crafting room. Far more organised than what Hermione or Bill have, but messier than what Percy has. He’s sitting on a stool as an elf sits opposite of him, writing some things down. Harry is there, with a steaming tea and looks comfortable, as the elf asks him questions.

“So, you’ve never worn any jewels?” The elf asks him with an odd expression, and the vision cuts from that point.<<

Neville blinks and shakes his head. Harry was fine, safe. And comfortable.

“But Mírion’s fine. With…”

Neville gently nudges Harry’s mind who immediately is aware of him. ‘Harry. Who are you with?’

‘Celebrimbor. You alright Nev?’ Harry replied, concern seeping through the bond.

‘I’m okay. Just checking. I met the harp player from when we arrived.’ Neville shows the image of the tall, unhealthily thin figure. ‘Maglor’s kind, if only…’

‘…hurt?’ Harry finishes.

‘Yeah.’

‘Should I go get you?’

‘No, it’s fine, I just wanted to make sure we’re all alright since you were gone.’

Harry winces from the other side. ‘Sorry I just-’

‘Needed to take a walk, I know. I just had to make sure. Are you staying there for long?’

‘I think so?’ Harry at least felt he wasn’t going back anytime soon, with how animated Celebrimbor sounded, but there was also a lack of reluctance and uncomfortable feelings. So Harry wasn’t there against his will, thankfully.

“I guess I’ll just… go back.” He doubts he could sleep again though. Then again, he might awaken them, if he slips back into the bed… “Since he’s with Lord Celebrimbor.” He also adds. At least it seemed so, from the lavish interior.

"A friend of yours?"

Try brother.

"We're friends, of the same age." And begetting.

Maglor pursued his lips. “Should he not sleep by this hour?”

“Sleep… does not come easy for us. He’s okay with being with Celebrimbor, really. Neither of us will go back to sleep at this point.” He says hesitantly, and Maglor’s face visibly softened with a mixture of concern.

“Very well. But I still am of the thought you should sleep a bit more, little one. There is still time until morning.” The person stretches his injured hand. Neville scrutinizes the hand for a while, before accepting. The skin on the hand feels burned, yet the scars are milky white, like a lightning went through them.

The hand trembles, and Neville softens his hold, though Maglor tightens it, as if he thinks his hand might slip out of Maglor’s. He looks about to pick him up and Neville stops him then. For one, only dad picked them up, despite their protests of being adults and for second, he can trust the hand holding the harp to hold him up, but the other hand looks fragile, weak and in pain he’s not about to make it worse to this person.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to, I can walk by myself. Besides- your hand is hurting.” He can see the entire arm shaking.

But the elf looks even worse, guilty for not being able to pick him up, which was ridiculous.

“We can just hold hands instead.” Neville offers and while it didn’t look like he’s satisfied with just that, he takes it and he’s led away.

Neville stiffens as he realises the unfamiliarity of the corridors.

“Lord Maglor? Um, those aren’t Lord Celegorm’s rooms.” He says, trying to tug free from the hold. Did he get tricked? Is he going to-

“We’re off to bed little ones.” The voice had an odd, fogged feeling in it.

Neville opens his mouth to rebuff. “But there is only-“ he cuts just as fast.

Oh. Neville squints, taking the sight of the elf.

He’s having some sort of episode.

Maglor’s eyes were vacant, in a dreamy like state, the kind Neville is very well acquainted with. He’s led all the way to one of the rooms. It’s decorated with music notes and Neville could imagine just from that, it’s Maglor’s room. Maglor drops his harp and despite the pain he doesn’t seem to register, lifts him up and into the bed where he’s tucked in like a real child would be.

He doesn’t see him. He sees something else Neville can’t.

“Um-”

Maglor slides the hood covering him off in one swift motion, before he could do something, and freezes minutely. His face scrunches, before smoothing up and landing a kiss on Neville’s forehead.

“It’s time to sleep, Ambarussa.” It was clear it was a name for someone.

Uh oh- What was the rule of the healer wards for those impaired in thoughts? Oh right- play along.

“…Okay.” Neville agreed reluctantly. Maglor smiled, unseeing and Neville’s heart clenched at the reminder of his hospitalised sort-of-parents regardless of blood. They too had these vacant looks but much more severe and incurable. “I hope you’ll get better.” He says, even if the elf wasn’t coherent the way he would need to, to understand him.

After his episode was over, he may get to leave right after, so he just needs to endure it a little longer…

He wasn’t expecting for Maglor to start playing on the harp again or for enchanted sleep to take him down.

______________________________________________________

Hermione wakes up third, and to an even colder bed, cold sweat trailing down her body and nightmares making an echo to her awake mind. Seeing two missing siblings made her unease even worse. Rather than dwelling on the nightmare she doesn’t remember, she leaves soon after, Ron and Hannah left behind being deep asleep. She needed-

Space. Take a breather.

‘Neville? Harry?’ She nudged their bonds, only to find out Neville was asleep elsewhere and Harry was chatting with some craftsman. A pang of silly jealousy hit her.

Hey! She wants to hear that too!

‘Yeah, I think you would have liked that too. He likes talking about jewel-making and their magical properties.’ Harry thinks, immediately noticing her awake mind.

And Hermione’s thoughts make a U turn in her jealousy. ‘Never mind, enjoy it.’ 

It wasn’t that they didn’t like jewels. All of them liked jewellery at some level, courtesy of genetics making them more likely to, or so their dad claims. But it wasn’t something she wanted to ramble about or spend an entire day looking at, through shops.

Bill liked them in terms of how much runes and magic he can store in a jewel, same as her, though he liked gemstones more than jewels itself since they’re better for magic to latch on. And more affordable. Charlie and Percy are the most knowledgeable of jewels, one for using them as animal bait and the other as a preparation for his mingling with high society.  

Of course, they all appreciated beautiful things and wearing them was probably no issue for anyone but Harry, unused to jewels to be worn by boys too. (Saying Petunia would absolutely loathe that, always helps turning his mind around.) Of course, when talking about gems, safe for their mother’s exclusive set, most of the jewellery were made by pretty stones. More spirituality and meaning, rather than monetary value they do not possess.

But the guy-

‘Celebrimbor’ Harry supplied.

‘Celebrimbor,’ She repeated. ‘, seems more on the making pretty things, side.’ Something just nagged at her side about the name though.

‘I’m not sure about that.’ Harry says with doubt. ‘Though he’s offering me to make me some jewellery if I ask for it… He’s pretty adamant about no enchanted rings. Though I can’t say I’m fond of them either.’ Dumbledore, for all his faults, did not deserve to slowly wither under a petty trinket that didn’t even look good. Then Harry frowns. ‘Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare again? Should I come for you?’

She pondered about, then shook her head in her mind. ‘No, I’ll just explore around.’ 

‘Time alone?’ Harry guesses.

‘…Yeah.’ All of them needed time to calm down, freshly after nightmares.

‘Alright. Be careful.’ He well wished her, with a lingering care and a mental hug.

She walked through the corridor, noticing the eerie perfection the place emitted. It reminded her of the Malfoy Manor. Too perfect to be truly so. Washed out happiness in a way.

She stops only before a large picture, with-. “Harry?” She whispered into the silence. No, it wasn’t, eyes and hair not matching, but the similarities were uncanny. Just from how well the portrait was made, she could feel the lady humming to herself as she weaves, despite her not being an enchanted painting. She bore a striking resemblance to Harry yet felt much… tired.

Huh. Probably a coincidence, or maybe it was something to do with their creature inheritance. All veela’s are blonde and blue eyed after all, maybe they had some singular genetics besides shining and having pointy ears and higher chance for tall height?

She should ask dad later, but after seeing Celegorm who also bore similarity to Luna, it is very likely these are also just something every elf has.

“I wonder what she’s weaving.” Hermione says aloud, staring at the picture a bit more. It was a very beautiful piece indeed. And haunting, as was the rest of the castle.

“She’s weaving the history of her kin.” Hermione jumped at the sudden appearance of…someone behind her.

The figure stops walking for a bit before getting closer, much more carefully as if afraid to scare them. The elf gives her a searching look. “I’ve not known of any elflings roaming these halls.”

Hermione racked her brain as the tall silhouette approached. “Um, Lord Celegorm took us in after we got lost.” She says fidgeting a bit under the gaze but refusing to cover under it. “I was- well, I woke up and decided to look around while my friends were asleep beside Celegorm. I just- I thought it was a beautiful portrait so um… I was just admiring it.”

“At three in the morning?” The figure asks sceptically.

“I… couldn’t- I didn’t feel sleepy anymore. And it is a beautiful painting.” She adds. The elf stares, looking away only when he decided the answer was satisfactory. His focus then shifted to the portrait.

“It is, indeed. It’s one of the oldest and most exquisite pieces from before the Darkening.” The figure says while walking closer. When he’s close enough for her to register his face, she’s suddenly reminded of her own features and some of her siblings. Elvish thing, indeed.

He raised his hand, palm backwards, and she’s suddenly reminded of the customs of elves and their greetings. She does the same, added with a bow of her own.

“Well met, little one, I’m Curufin. May I know your name?” Yet another name to add to her mysteries.

His greeting lacked the general son-of-someone, but given Hermione was also reluctant to say her dad’s name, she copied him without much complaint.

“Well met, Lord Curufin, my name is Faelnor.”

Curufin jerks, and Hermione fidgets under that gaze that sharpened after she spoke her name.

“It’s a good name.” She insists after a long time of silence. She has no idea why they do such weird faces at her name. It’s not like she was named after some dark historical figure.

“Apologies, I did not mean to imply such. It just… took me by surprise. A surprising name for a nér.”

“Nís.” Hermione corrected. Curufin stills and blinks a few times.

“…Apologies.” He says again. Now that she looks at him closer- He’s dressed like an-

“Are you a craftsman?” She asks. Maybe he’s a Noldo like them. Well, half-Noldo for her family. They are craftsmen after all. Then again, it doesn’t necessarily have to be so.

Curufin smiles. “What gave it out?”

“The clothes, and the graphite on your hands. And your rolled up sleeves. You have a pencil behind your ear too.” She lists. He looks like what she’d imagine a craftsman to be. Interest piqued her. “Are you making something?”

“Merely improving an already made design.”

“That’s great!” Hermione says, sincere. “If it can’t be improved, it can’t move forward.” She nods to herself. That’s how history and innovation worked. Her eyes trailed back at the portrait and then at the interior of the place. It vaguely reminded her of gothic style, and yet it was distinctly different from it.

It seems she aid the right thing as the elf, Curufin, looks at her with more appraising eyes.

“Would you like a small tour?” Curufin offered much to her surprise.

She looks at the smeared graphite on his hands. She frowns. As much as she would liked to say yes… “Aren’t you busy? I wouldn’t want to distract you.” Merlin knows how distracting Harry and Ron could be with their antics. Sometimes, you just needed alone time to create something. Her devious parchment jinx, her coins, even her pouch were all made in her spare and completely isolated time alone.

“There’s no issue little one. My work has just finished. It would not intervene with my work.”

And at that, Hermione was sold. Harry was stuck in a study, Neville fell asleep who knows where, it would do good for her to do some proper reconnaissance. If anything happens it won't hut to know anyhow, and who’s better guide than a person living here?

Hermione, under the hood, gave a wide smile, nodding enthusiastically.

“Okay!”

There was just something she didn’t tell him though. Another reason the portrait got her attention was the eight-pointed star. Exact same she had on her pocket watch and so did her siblings.

There was something she was missing.

  ___________________________________

Celebrimbor was unconcernedly writing down notes, as an elf came with pieces of lembas and jasmine tea. He pauses, when he sees Harry.

“An elfling?” That’s what gets Celebrimbor to look up. “Do introduce us.”

Celebrimbor complies in haste. “Ah, right! Mírion, this is-”

“Curufin.” The elf says.

“Cu-” Celebrimbor stares minutely at, Curufin apparently, and coughs.

“Curufin. He’s my-“

“Father.”

“Ah, yes of course. Curufin is my father.” Celerimbor says almost awkwardly. Harry stares at the new figuest that stares right back.

Uh- Well, he looks young. Then again, their dad looked young, so Celebrimbor’s dad being also immortal elf that looked in his prime as anyone else must be a norm.

“Well met- Um, Lord Curufin.” Harry stretches his hand before retracting it just as quickly, and doing an awkward elven greeting. They graciously ignore that.

“Well met, little one. Your name is Mírion?” He asked, for clarification.

Harry nodded, uncertain. Silence stretches as Curufin kept looking at him as if dissecting him with his gaze.

Celebrimbor cleared his throat once it became too awkward.

“H- Atar, is there something…?”

Curufin smiled, all toothy, not malicious, but definitely odd. “No, there is not.” He also looks searching. As if Harry was some sort of puzzle to solve. Harry discreetly sipped on his tea looking at the exchange in uncertainty.

___________________________________________________

1>Maglor

Maglor’s going through… things, and yes, Elrond did convince him to sail when he found him on the beach.

Elrond *throws a fishnet over Maglor and pulls* speaking jovially: To the ship we go, ada!

If he kicked and screamed during the reverse kidnapping, nobody will know.

He’s… uh, not quite as well as people wish him to be.

When he saw Neville, in the Sinda cloak he thought about his baby stars, but when he saw the soft red hair that looked darker in the moon lit room, he went my baby siblings. Both are wrong but hey, at least this was one of his lesser fits.

2>Neville

Neville’s got some issues after Carrows, and with Bellatrix existing out of prison. Also, when he looks at Maglor, he gets so many flashbacks to his parents it’s not even funny. At least Maglor’s not that far gone.

Unfortunately for all, Neville is the second coming of saving-people-thing with a side dish of being a nervous wreck.

Formenos was built for an exile and Fëanor didn’t plan for the thing to look in any capacity welcoming. Unfortunately, now that they all got back, it’s a stifling place. Especially for Maglor.

4>Curufinwe the Other

Both Harry and Hermione meet a Curufinwe. Now which one is which? Meanwhile Hermione is going through her second Nicholas Flamel crisis, she could swear there’s something familiar to their names-

 5>Faces

They aren’t aware of the face change much. The siblings notice it about each other but not about themselves, so when Hermione sees Curufinwë, she just thinks she looks similar to her siblings instead of ‘hey, that face is identical to mine’.

They all go: Maybe our faces look similar to each other because we’re the same race?

Because Amrod didn’t let them interact with other elves, so they just assume things. The same way Veelas got allure, blonde hair and occasionally breathe fire when angered, they just think being shiny, having pointy ears and some similarities in face are also normal racial perk.

As far as they know, they are elven race so they assume they have to share more characteristics than pointy ears and being shiny. Something like goblins, or house elves, in some places similar to one another but different in other parts. Maybe the other elves looking like other siblings is just similarity between one elf and another. Or so the Weasley five think.

Coincidence? Probably!

They still feel a bit sus though. Hermione, Harry both.

_________________________________________

Names:

Ginny– Ruivën – Wildfire

Luna – Tercenien – Through/Pierce+see = Piercing sight

Hannah– Alyastar – Fair/good + Loyalty/faith = Good faith

Harry - Mírion – Jewel+son = Jewelled son

Neville- Laimandir – Plant+ friend/lover = plant loving

Hermione – Failanár/Faelnor – Fair minded, just + fire = Fire of justice

Ron– Aþumon – Friend at need

Fred- Nyatsorëon – Magpie-Smile = Smiling magpie

George -Nyatsalasën – Mapie-Happiness = Joyful magpie

Percy  –Sanairë –thinker/reflect+lament = Thinking regret

Charlie– Ronyangon – Chaser+dragons = dragon chasing

Bill – Alacarnassë -Well done/made+nature = good natured

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take long for morning to come.

Maedhros counts the morning silence as a win, up until he goes to the kitchen and sees Maglor cooking something on the stove. Something none usually bother to do, being well stocked in lembas. He looks almost absentminded, as he fries the eggs on the pan.

“Maglor?” He asks carefully, making his approaching steps deliberately louder. Maglor pauses, his gaze flicking fleetingly at him before resuming on frying eggs, one hand shaky still.

“Good morning.” Maglor greets slowly Maedhros's words reaching to his mind. Maedgros approaches, taking the sight of Maglor. He looks healthier, and far better in shape than yesterday. It could mean a good thing, or a bad one, depending on what lightened his mood.

“Are you making breakfast?” Maedhros asks. This early in the morning where no one else is there at the moment?

Maglor hums. “I wanted to make breakfast before the children wake.”

Ah, so a bad thing. Maedhros kept his disappointment down, as he looked at his brother. “Maglor, why don’t you sit down for a bit.” It would do good to be a distance away from fire, especially when reminding his brother there are no children in the house never went over very well.

Maglor freezes before relaxing. “I’m not lost in my memories Maedhros.” He says, oddly firm in his statement.

Unlikely.

“I really think we should sit down on this, Káno.”

“This isn’t-”

“Lord Maglor?” The child’s voice puts stop to every argument and comforting words Maedhros had prepared on his lips. He paused, looking at a small, cloaked child that appeared out of nowhere. An elfling. The child stops in it's tracks, looking at Maedhros, taken aback. “So tall.” The child says in wonder.

What?

Maglor quickly finished making the eggs before putting things down and fully focusing at the actual, living child standing in the kitchen. What was a child doing in Formenos? How did they get here? Where did Maglor get an elfling?

Belatedly, Maedhros hold a minute fear, Maglor, in his delirious moments stole the child from somewhere, except even then, it was unusual for children to be around Formenos at all, for Maglor to steal. In fact, their lack of children was because there was underlying fear they would be stolen by Maglor in the first place.

“Yes, little one?”

“Um, thank you for your hospitality and for sharing your food with us but… we don’t really have anything to repay you with…” The child wrings its hands while also keeping on giving Maedhros nervous glances. Idly, he didn’t know how to feel about Maglor not having hallucinations because the implication he somehow got a whole child was rather grim. Neither of the two were aware of his internal turmoil going on inside Maedhros, as Maglor crouched down.

“There is no issue, we have enough food to go by. It would be a bad look on a host to not have meals for its visitors, no?” Maglor soothes, before cocking his head, noticing the fleeting glances the nervous elfling gave towards Maedhros. “This is my brother, Maedhros. He may look intimidating, but he is kind of heart. Maedhros, this is Laimandir.” No reaction at the name besides shyness and bobbing of a head. Odd.

Never mind the questionable statement-

“Maglor.” He starts, keeping his growing unease in check. “Where did you get an elfling?”

Maglor blinks at him, his big sunken eyes looking very big and innocent that could only be fake, replying: “Get? He came to me himself.” He says it so matter off factly he just can’t trust the statement. He said the same thing about Elros and Elrond back then. (“I stumbled upon them in a cave, Russo.”)

The elfling came forward, apparently to defend Maglor’s statement.

“I was walking through the corridors when Lord Maglor found me. Um, before we came here, me and my friends got lost in the forests and Lord Celegorm offered us a place to stay until our- uh, my friend’s siblings come to get us.”

Cele-

“Celegorm found you?” He asks, and also- “Friends?” And-

Maglor beside him smiles, apparently happy at the reminder of more children, that bastard. There was so much to unpack. And also, Celegorm got kids and didn’t tell anyone? Kids aren’t animals to take Tyelko-

“I… did not know of any children arriving.” He says after a while.

“We came during the night. Lord Celegorm did not want to rouse you from sleep.” Laimandir said softly. “We heard Lord Maglor playing his harp then. He plays very well.” Maglor preens at that. You listened to those songs full of laments?

“…where are your friends now?” He asks, and the child looks in thought before answering.

“Harr- I mean, Mírion is in some kind of study with Lord Celebrimbor. Faelnor is going through the castle tour with Lord Curufin, and um, Alyastar and Aþumon are still sleeping beside Lord Celegorm.” He recites. “They’re safe.” It sounds like he’s reassuring himself more than others.

The two brothers blink at the name. Mírion and- “Faelnor?”

Laimandir nods. “My friend.”

An unfortunate name that was.

Maglor’s face then morphs into an even happier tune as if realising something. “There’s five of you?” Maedhros shoots him a warning look. No, he can’t afford to steal five kids. This isn’t Middle Earth, Káno.

It doesn’t escape him the fact the child knew so well of his friends’ whereabouts. It strikes him as rather odd.

Maglor looks out of the window, capable of telling the time just from the light alone. He sighs into the wind before looking back at Laimandir.

“It’s morning already, should we wake your siblings up?” Maglor offers which-

“No, I’ll go.” Maedhros says.

Celegorm has a lot to answer for.

Maglor pursues his lips but his eyes trail after the dishes and pan and he nods after a while. “I’ll cook for more people then.”

Laimandir looks between the two of them before biting its lips.

“Do you- do you need any help?” The child offers. Maglor’s smile spreads wide at that moment.

Maedhros, after looking at them for a while, before he leaves towards Celegorm’s rooms. He opens the doors quietly, being met by two cloaked elfling sleeping by Celegorm’s side. In any other setting it would have been a sweet sight. But right now, he’s much more concerned that Celegorm just nicked them from somewhere.

“Tyelko.” His stern commanding voice is enough for Celegorm to wake, and at that, the children did too, with groans and yawns.

“Timo?” His brother murmurs.

“Tyelkormo. What surprise you invited into our house.” He says in a dangerously smooth voice that boded nothing good. Celegorm looks sheepishly at him and then back at the children.

He winced. “I admit I should have informed you beforehand.”

“You think?”

“It was nighttime.” Celegorm defends.

“There are plenty of people who do not sleep at night.” He pauses. “Where did you get them, Tyelko?”

“An hour from Formenos. Faelnor’s siblings are days away from them, so it made sense at time to take them in until then.”

Maedhros blinked. “Days?”

Celegorm shrugs helplessly. He has no idea how adults can get so far away from children and not question it. “Believe me, me and Faelnor’s brother have a lot to talk about once we meet.” He ends it in an ominous tone.

Celegorm looks at the kids before-

He squints.

“Weren’t there more of you?” Celegorm asks. The kids nod absentmindedly much to Celegorms concern.

“They’re with others.” Maedhros answers him, sparing him from growing panic he technically deserves. “Breakfast will be ready, your friend, Laimandir, is already in the kitchen with Maglor.”

Celegorm looks at him oddly. “Káno?”

“He made breakfast, yes.” He confirms, something none of their family usually does. Maglor cooking food was always a red flag toward at what age his mind thinks he is at, but given there are actual elflings instead of hallucinations, it may not be a bad thing.

An elfling at the left perked up at the mention of breakfast. “There’ll be food?” Maedhros frowns, and Celegorm does so too on the side before both smooth their faces into something child-acceptable.

The other, now confirmed a girl, also looked happy but for a different reason. “Laimandir is there?”

They look hopefully at him. Maedhros nods.

“I’m afraid I do not know your names little ones.” Maedhros says to the two newly awakened children.

They made a quiet ‘oh’ sound before scrambling down the bed and doing an awkward eleven greeting that told him more than the rather harsh Quenya.

“My name’s Aþumon.” Greets the boy. “Well met.” The boy mumbles.

The girl copies him, just as awkwardly. “And mine’s Alyastar. Well met.”

Odd names, especially with the ‘þ’ being implemented in the name.

“Well met little ones.” He says, taking note of the oddness that Celegorm also must have noticed. “Mine’s Maedhros.” No reaction. Celegorm also looks a bit pinched. It was clear Quenya wasn’t their first language, still, it was odd for them to learn Quenya without the history behind it.

“You’re really tall.” Aþumon says, admiring his height.

Alyastar nodded. “But you’re not as tall as Hagrid though!”

“Or his half-brother.” Aþumon nods to himself.

“He has a half-brother?” Alaystar asks surprised.

“You can say he’s giant.” Aþumon says, as if telling some inside joke. "You think we'll be anymore surprised than by this?"

Maedhros felt himself soften at the sight of the two elflings.

“There are not many who could claim to be taller than me. Mayhaps we should meet. Is he one of the avari?”

The children looks at each other, and then at Maedhros again.

“Uh, no, he’s mortal.” What? There’s no mortal in Valinor. Anymore that is. The dwarf living until this day was a mystery.

The only way for them to meet a mortal would be across sea. Perhaps very, very belatedly reembodied?

 “He’s dead now.” Aþumon adds.

Maedhros regrets his quetioning just then. “Oh...  that is regrettable to hear.”

Aþumon looks confused, if his tilt of the head was anything to go by. “It’s alright? It’ not like it’s your fault they stuck his head on a pike anyway.”

“Ron.” Alyastar interrupted him.

Celegorm had to keep his mixture of snicker and horror down as the the little nér said that so nonchalantly. While his words were indeed horrifying, the fact Maedhros was the one who asked wrong questions is gold. Just so you know, most of the time he was the one who made political mistakes, which is why he wasn’t allowed anywhere near politics.

But Maedhros was just... frozen in place, probably regretting his questioning.

“Well, I’m hungry.” Celegorm exclaimed before it becomes horribly awkward and saving his older brother from further unintentionally horrifying himself like he did yesterday with their reading material. “How about we go there to help Laimandir and Maglor out?” The children eagerly nod. Immediately, Maedhros relaxes, attention being given to anything else but this.

The odd moment quickly forgotten; the two children followed Celegorm like cute, cloaked ducklings. Is there a reason they had their cloaks hiding their looks? 

Also… A thought occurred to him-

“Are you all of the same age group?” Maedhros asked. The children jolted.

“Um, yes?” The two looked at each other before Aþumon repeats the answer, this time firmer. “Yes, we are.”

It was a rare occurrence, to have more than 2 elflings to be of the same age group. He, Fingon and Finrod were much more of a competition the first time around.

“Have you been together for a long time?”

“Since we were young.” Alyastar confirms.

Celegorm looks wry. “You’re not young now?”

“Younger.” The girl admits. “But we were younger than now, when we met each other.”

“Innocent too.” The boy murmurs. Celegorm blinks.

“Aþumon.” Alyastar she gives him a significant look.

“I meant- happier.” That didn’t sound any better.

The two looked about to bicker when they came in, Laimandir cutting some vegetables under Maglor’s supervision. Laimandir looked up and beamed at the sight of them. “Alyastar! Aþumon! You’re awake!”

“Morning. Where’s…” Aþumon looked around himself. “Others?”

“They’re coming already.” Laimandir assures them which- Maglor, who was spicing food besides him paused, looking at the child beside him contemplatively.

“Sight?” Maglor murmurs. Aþumon twitches besides Alyastar, who shakes her head-

“No, Laimandir is more of a garden sprite than a seer. That title goes for R- Aþumon.” She points at the figure besides her.

Aþumon bristles. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Alyastar looks at Celegorm, ignoring his outburst. “He’s the one who foretold a big dog’s going to come to us and that you’ll take us away.”

“Oh, did he?” Celegorm asked with a slight concern. Now, seeing abilities weren’t that rare, among the noble families, that is. The children didn’t quite notice the subtle probing from the hunter and the straining of the ears of the nearby elves.

“No! It was a coincidence!” Aþumon denies. “Just because I said it could have happened doesn’t mean it has to! It’s like saying H-Mírion is going to come through this door right-”

“Good morning?” “-now.” Presumed Mírion said shyly appearing from behind two figures that walked in, Aþumon looking at him in betrayal. “What are you talking about?”

Aþumon hides his shadowed face behind his hands, silently screaming into them.

“There, there. I told you, you can’t run away from the truth.” Alyastar says in faux sympathy.

Maedhors looks over, seeing his-

“Father, nephew, it’s rare to see you out of the forges.” He says subtly looking at the child behind them.

Mírion had-

Celegorm whistled. “Now that’s a shade of green I’ve never seen before.” Indeed, it was an unnatural shade of green. The child was without doubt, one of the high elves given the light in his eyes, not to add the looks had a nagging resemblance to… someone. As he came closer, the before presumed black shade of hair was actually a very dark shade of red.

Alyastar frowns, noticing Harry’s lack of cover. “Harry, your cloak is off.”

Maedhros reeled back at the language change. It was sharp and connotated and harsh at places. There was tiny similarity with mannish languages he remembers from Middle Earth yet it was different enough he couldn’t place where would it be likely from. Their father, Fëanor, also perked up at the foreign sounding language.

Mírion looks sheepish, “Sorry, it accidentally came off.” before narrowing his eyes at Fëanor and Celebrimbor. He looks at one to another, eyes betraying his confusion.

“Father and nephew? I thought…”

“My father and grandfather share the same name.” Celebrimbor answers to relieve the confused frown the child had.

“Oh.” Then he narrows his eyes. "But earlier you said-"

“Good, you’re all here!” Everyone whipped their heads towards the direction of the new child’s voice, making a mental count. This must be-

“Faelnor! What have you been doing?” Celegorm exclaimed. “You lot sure like to disappear in the night.” Their father straightened from the side. Fael-

They spoke immediately. “Oh, Lord Celegorm, thank you for letting us sleep over last night. Um, sometimes we have difficulties sleeping so we tend to wander to chase off our nightmares,” Seeing their concerned faces, they shake their head. “It happens, don’t worry about it,” The adult exchanged glances. “Um, I just looked around, but Lord Curufin here, let me have a proper tour. Thank you very much by the way.” They thanked Lord Curufin besides them.

Alyastar gasped looking between Curufin and other Curufin. “You look the same too!”  

It was a fair misunderstanding, for his father and grandfather shared more than just one trait, being identical down to their very little features. It was uncanny having them side by side, making other people believe them twins, that is, when they didn’t recognize Fëanor right away.

Indeed, Curufin by Mírion and Curufin by Faelnor, looked unrecognisable from each other.

Falenor stopped, taking in the appearance of the second Curufin.

Faelnor looks at his tour guide, or so Maedhros thinks unable to tell form the cloak. “There’s two of you?” They say in wonder. Maglor coos from the side. Maglor no-

“I would not presume to be the same as my father.” Curufin says in an amused tone.

“That’s debatable.” Celegorm says in good spirit. “He frowns the same way too. If we didn’t see him being born, I’d think amme just sculpted a copy of our father out of clay and gave it life.”

Curufin scoffed.

Laimandir looks between them. “You’re all related?”

Maedhors’s question about whether they have even an ounce of knowledge of their relations has been answered. “We are, we still have 3 brothers.” Though Amrod was missing. He felt a pang of longing for his missing brother at that moment. Just where could he be?

“Seven’s a lot.” Faelnor says. “But Celegorm said his dad is Fëanor.” She says in confusion.

“That too is my name.” Curufin, father of Curufin says. “We do share one same name.” Faelnor frowns but after thinking a bit, nods if a little absentminded.

“We’re the only known family to have seven children born off a couple.” Maedhros also adds, looking closely at their reactions, or rather, lack of. Maglor frowns from the side in disapproval apparently not liking him reminding the children they may be sharing space with kinslayers. Falenor nods, in thought, but others did not seem concerned about the hint Maedhros tried to give them.

“Never mind that, how did Curufin’s tour go? I’d say the only more boring one would be with Carinthir.” Curufin-the-son, bristled on the side. Curufin-the-father, kept being in the back instead, watched their interactions while looking thoughtful.

“Tyelko.” Maedhros says in disapproval, which Celegorm just rolls his eyes at.

“Great actually. I think Lord Curufin is rather brilliant.” Faelnor says, voice laced with honesty and wonder.

“He is?” “I am?” Celegorm and Curufin said in one, one glaring at the other. Faelnor nodded, eyes shining.

“Well, it was obvious that… as we went through the whole castle it just- Lord Curufin was the one who made Formenos didn’t he? Or at least contributed. I mean- it sounds like so, he explained all the geometry and thinking behind it, I don’t think anyone who wasn’t involved in building it, would know.”

Celegorm looked pained. In fact, even Maglor and Maedhros looked in pain. Celebrimbor winced.

Celegorm opened his mouth: “You spoke to him-”

“Her.” Curufin corrected. The three brothers look at Faelnor, repeating her before just going with it.

“-her, about geometry?”

“I listened to everything!” Chirped Faelnor on the side, excited. “It was very enlightening. Too bad we didn’t know of such methodical and calculated way before.”

Before what?

“Yes, she is an apt listener. Never wavered in attention.” Curufin says carefully. Celegorm gives him a horrified look before he gives another one to Faelnor.

“It was interesting.” She insists.

Before they could fight about how interesting Curufin’s ramblings really are, Maglor declared breakfast ready.

_____________________________________________

Hermione, meanwhile, stated muttering some things she overheard or that nagged her minds for quite a while. Unfortunately, the short sleep did not help realise what it was. “Two Curufins, Fëanor, Formenos, 7 brothers, an eight-pointed star…” She muttered to herself something missing from the equation. They were even given hints.

“Say, do any of you have other relatives that can go take you?” Celebrimbor asked in worry. “They must be asking for you.”

Ron shook his head.

“Truly? Not even grandparents?”

Harry reeled back. Right, grandparents… don’t they actually have ones here?

Ron shook his head. “Not likely, our dad’s disowned. And from mom’s side- they’re not available.”

Fëanor frowns. “They disowned him? Surely that is a rather drastic measure…”

“Well, not in a conventional sense, but I recon if you set your son on fire it sorts of speaks for itself… Nothing speaks better than burning the ships. Literally.” Ron always enjoyed talking about his family. Unfortunately.

Fëanor dropped his cutlery. In fact, everyone but the elflings stopped eating.

“I- come again?” He manages to get out while Celegorm started choking on some piece of food.

Faelnor made a sharp metal noise with her cutlery, realization setting in. This was it, the final piece, the fire, the ships! Fëanor!!!

‘Oh my god- Ron, Neville, Harry, Hannah! This- They’re our relatives!’

Without pausing, she started sharing all her knowledge, causing a rapid headache to the quintuplets.

Ron groaned from the side as Hermione’s knowledge flooded their minds. ‘You couldn’t have said it sooner?’

1>Same Age group:

Being from the same age group when elflings means around 5 to 10 years age difference. They totally didn’t think them all to be not even a year apart, much less minutes. After elves become adults, same age group becomes age difference between 100-500 and then they go higher and higher after.

2> Night stories

Yes, Curufin tried to make Hermione fall asleep by reciting everything he knew of this place, along with putting numbers and hard terms in the speech to make her bored or make her tired and let her fall asleep. Instead, it backfired because Hermione is thirsty when it comes to knowledge.

He kept giving her glances, like: Are you feeling sleepy yet?

Instead, she asks him to elaborate on something and then morning comes and he’s like: Oh no, this wasn’t the part of the plan.

3> Misgendering end

Yes, finally Hermione’s not misgendered anymore. Thank Eru this gave me so much pain. In her defence, Falenor really doesn’t sound like a girl name. Alyastar doesn’t either but she got her voice to back her up.

4> Where’s dad?

 Amrod is conveniently absent, bragging about his kids to Aegnor.

5> What are our siblings doing?

Bill is currently on an unicorn, looking for his siblings in panic. Why unicorn?

Well, they fucked up seasons and when the 5 apparrated accidentally, they were freshly moving from winter to spring, so none of the winged horses or hippogryffs have the right coating for the harsh coldness of Araman.

 Thestrals actually change their skins, similar to lizards but only twice a year to adapt to changing seasons. The siblings just got lost in a time where all thestrals now have summer skin.

All Hippogriffs and winged horses are molting rn so Bill can’t ride them. :’)

Unicorns don’t have that limitation. They are the elves of the horse society.

‘Shedding? What’s that? You don’t have perfect bodies for all seasons?’-Random unicorn, probably.

Meanwhile, Charlie is now the temporary head of the house. Which means chaos.

Percy is sorting the library while the twins are setting very vicious traps across the house. Ginny got close to the horses; Luna is making protective talismans that looks suspiciously like wine cork. As for where the wine is? No one knows.

6> Family dramas

Since it’s very much future based, most of the drama is resolved, like, the politics and family ones. Celebrimbor in the end reconciled with Curufin. Elrond visits his kidnap dads regularly. Earendil is currently unemployed.

When Elrond visits Maglor he makes a sad noise when he notices Elros isn’t with him and Elrond has to remind him there’s no Elros-

It doesn’t happen that often anymore but Maglor has his moments.

_________________________________________

Names:

Ginny– Ruivën – Wildfire

Luna – Tercenien – Through/Pierce+see = Piercing sight

Hannah– Alyastar – Fair/good + Loyalty/faith = Good faith

Harry - Mírion – Jewel+son = Jewelled son

Neville- Laimandir – Plant+ friend/lover = plant loving

Hermione – Failanár/Faelnor – Fair minded, just + fire = Fire of justice

Ron– Aþumon – Friend at need

Fred- Nyatsorëon – Magpie-Smile = Smiling magpie

George -Nyatsalasën – Mapie-Happiness = Joyful magpie

Percy –Sanairë –thinker/reflect+lament = Thinking regret

Charlie– Ronyangon – Chaser+dragons = dragon chasing

Bill – Alacarnassë -Well done/made+nature = good natured

Chapter Text

The tension at the table was palatable. The children stopped eating, and others were reeling from the news because-

There’s no way.

There’s only one elf in history who set ships and his son on fire and he’s eating together with them.

Fëanor didn’t move from his shocked state, taking the sight of the children’s, especially Mírions. His face reminded him of his mother to a painful degree, white freckles betraying his half-elven heritage.

None of his children married a man. But the sight of Mírion makes him reevaluate if that was true. Maybe Amrod-

Perhaps…

But Aþumon said he was also their dad-

Curufin cleared his throat. “Your father? I see, you’re all siblings then.” Perhaps Amrod opted to adopting. He would not be the first of their family to do so. Mírion was a peredhel after all, it would fit the theme of every line having a peredel, or Maglor literally taking children, but the similarity to Míriel makes those that recognize the face, hesitate whether all of them were adopted.

Mírion looked at them, his eyes cautious. The other children fell quiet, watching Fëanor with just as distrustful eyes. “We are.”

A silent conversation happens as the brothers exchange glances. Celegorm can’t help but speak despite the warning gazes that tell him not to spook the children. Nephews. Amrod got them baby nephews. “Is your father Amrod?! Is he-” he swallowed. “Is he here?” In Valinor?

The movement was subtle but they without doubt shifted at the mention of Amrod. The name told them something their own did not.

Amrod being a father seemed more and more likely. Amrod-

“He’s- unavailable at the moment.” Falenor said tightly.

“Where?”

“That depends.” Faelnor says, her voice sharp as knife cutting into the tension. “What will you do to him, if we tell you?”

Do to-

Celegorm reeled back, as if slapped.

Maedhros is quick to refute the mere idea of- “We do not intend to harm him. We have not seen Amrod in millennia. We’ve not heard of him since,” Losgar “,he went missing.” He finishes with a grimace.

Aþumon bristled. “You mean when dad burned to death. How can we believe you when you don’t even admit to this?”

Everyone winced at the harshness.

Mírion coked his head, his green eyes darkening at the words. “Ashes from fire caught to his body and so burning were his breaths, that when water filled his lungs, he only found salvation.”

Terrifying silence reigned between them. Everyone were rather taken aback by the comment.

Maglor and Curufin glanced at each other, unsettled that children so young, knew of this. And Mírions comment especially bought concern. He hook his head, as if not at all remembering his words.

‘Did yours?’ Curufin mouths to Maglor.

Maglor looks thoughtful. ‘Elrond and Elros weren’t aware of the weight of it at the time. But there was certain otherness to them.’ he mouths back, rubbing his hands in a bad habit. Mírion seemed the same age as the twins at that time. Considering he’s a peredhel, the freckles being a big tell, he must be roughly the same age Elros and Elrond were. But the oddness and insight was more of a permaiar thing, than a peredhel, or so he hears, when he hears about Eärendil’s childhood. Or maybe it was the killing part that made it impossible for them to live normally.

In the ensuing silence, Fëanor opted to speak. “Fault of burning Amrod does not lie within them, it is solely mine.”

Mírion looks him in the eye. His green eyes shone with the light of the trees, probably inherited from Amrod. If he truly is his son, which he believes more and more. “We know... little of what happened, yet, what we do know, is very much haunting, Lord Fëanor.”

Call me grandfather. Is on his lips. Those are his grandchildren. Picked, sired, or found and hopefully not kidnapped.  

But reminded of Aþumon’s earlier comment he instead says-

“I’ve never disowned your father.” And Amrod should not think he did.

“Right. So, the whole setting on fire was what? Character building?” Aþumon seemed to make the most painful comments, similar to Celegorm’s and Carnistir’s brazenness. Certainly a Fëanorian hand at raising them was there. Amrod’s.

 Ai, Nerdanel, our little Amrod’s a father of his own!

Fëanor can’t help but abruptly get up. That wasn’t true. It was a mistake, he never meant to-

But the children took it badly. Aþumon and Faelnor got up from their seats too, each shielding their siblings behind them by their side with their body. Mírion straightened in his seat, piercing eyes staring accusingly at Fëanor who-

I scared them. They got-

“I never meant for that to happen.” He says, forcing his distress down. He steps back for good measure as to not scare them. He wasn’t angry, he shouldn’t be angry. He will not let rage be his undoing, not again. “I thought he had left the ship, with his brother.”

Amras. They need to tell Amras too-

Amrod settled, probably married and he has children in his care. Probably. Most likely.

Unfortunately, they did not take that well either. “Are you saying it is his fault for staying on the ship?” Faelnor demanded, also starting to get heated.

“No! Ai, If I knew Telvo was inside the ship, I would never have- Never have-” Words caught his throat as Mirion threw him a knowing, heavy gaze. He was also the one to desribe Amrod’s death so vividly.

The child says back. “Are you convincing us, or yourself?”

His words are chilling. Fëanor freezes, looking at the child. An image of Míriel looking at him with those knowing eyes. A mere image in his mind, but vivid nonetheless. As Míriel gazed at her son, she knew of the tragedy he will bring onto this world.

“I-”

“He doesn’t talk about you.” Aþumon says, and it pierces his heart to hear it. “Faelnor had to connect the dots for us to realize you’re our grandfather at all!”

“I-I”

“HIS GREATEST FEAR IS FIRE AND US BEING BURNED WITHIN IT!”

Fëanor reels back. “I have not- I did not-” He meant not to do that.

“Ron. That was over the line.” Mírion interrupts looking pointedly at Aþumon. Aþumon quietened. Mírion looked back at Fëanor.

“I just- I just want to see my son again.” It would be a relieving sight to see Amrod, hale and whole and healed, much like seeing his other sons.

“You’ve caused much pain.” Alyastar says softly. “How do we know you won’t cause more?”

Celegorm stepped up. “He reformed. We all did. Father is putting in effort.” To their very worst and now, trying to better themselves.

“I would not let any harm befall my youngest brother, your father.” Maedhros speaks up. His voice is firm, final, and promising of fulfilment. “It is only worry, that makes us ask of him.”

Mírion nods slowly. “And if you met, is there anything you have to say?” He directs his questiin at Fëanor.

“Apologize. Ask for forgiveness-”

“Ask? Or demand?” Aþumon interrupts sharply.

His breath hitches. At first, he asked his sons for the Oath too. Until disowning came to be an effective threat.

“I would not.” And it hurts to be questioned, by grandchildren that met him less than a day. “I would not force him so.” Not again. I just want to see him.

They look at each other, uncertainty colouring their faces.

It was Aþumon who spoke:“...There was a deer once, in these forests, and a young elf, who hunted it. The young elf drew his bow, and shot, but the arrow flew against the wind and hit the deer wrong. And so the deer died, in pain, in agony, and the young elf wept for it caused unnecessary pain. An older elf came and said: A single mistake-”

“-is but a stepping stone to success.” Fëanor finishes, feeling much more emotional. It was something he only shared with Amrod and Amras. Something only they would know. Something Amrod passed down to his children. A special moment etched between sons and him.

 Others do not speak, mulling over his words.

_____________________________________________

‘I think he’s speaking the truth.’ Ron said.

‘You changed your mind over a story?’ Hermione couldn’t help but be incredulous at that.

‘That’s not just story ‘mione!’ Ron snapped. ‘It’s a real important story. Dad never talked about grandpa but he always told us this story when things were bad. It’s something only family would know.’

‘Wait, but what do you want to tell him?’ Neville asked.

‘I don’t think he has bad intentions.’ Harry said softly. ‘But sometimes they can hurt all the same.’ He adds.

‘But it has been such a long time. He must miss dad a lot.” Hannah said uncertainly. ‘It’s family. Does dad-?’

‘...I think so. Merlin, I think dad really, really wants to see them but mopes around. He gets those faraway eyes you know?’ Ron answers reluctantly.

‘Then where’s the problem? We should let them meet!’ Hermione exclaimed in a *a solution!* tone.

‘Maybe they don’t exactly deserve it?’ Ron points out reminding why their grandfather wasn’t talked about.

‘Family isn’t about deserving.’ Neville rushes into the conversation.

Hannah nods. ‘Can’t we just give him a chance?’

Finally, Harry takes lead speaking. “Our father is not planning on meeting you anytime soon.”

Their grandfathers face fell at that.

“But- He is currently in Mandos Halls. Do with it what you will.”

Their uncles tensed at the mention of the halls.

“Is he...?”

Dead?

Harry shook his head. “He’s there to talk about some things.”

Like their mortality.

“Your mortal mother?”

‘How-’

‘Oh no-’

‘So quickly?!’

It’s Maglor, whom had been silent for a while, who answers with a reminiscing smile. “My sons were peredhil. I knew by just glance. Your freckles.” He points at Harry’s freckles on his face.

‘Of course it’s the freckles.’ Ron groans.

‘Well, the cat’s out of the bag, isn’t it?’ Hermione sighted.

‘Don’t you mean kneazle?’ Hannah asked before Harry cut their connection off.

“Dad has a question about our mortality.”

Their newly discovered uncles reel back at that.

“I had thought... is the choice of peredhel not applicable to you?” Maglor frowns.

‘The what now?’ Harry was rather confused by the words.

‘An established right to choose mortality for all half men-half elven.’ Hermione explains.

‘Wait, does that mean we do too?’ Neville asks.

‘No? It’s written in all books the choice can be made by half men. We’re not men, we’re half-human.’ She says.

‘I still don’t see where the difference is?” Ron says.

‘It’s like being a kneazle and they a cat. We technically look the same enough to have children but we’re in some aspects different.’ Hermione picks the easiest example.

‘Magical?’ Ron wonders.

Hermione tsked. ‘No! Magic was not the point Ron!’

Harry cleared his throat. “It’s...complicated.”

Maedhros was about to say something when Maglor once again spoke.

“You’ve got quite the skill in ósanwë aren’t you?”

Maedhros stops at everything he probably wanted to say and gapes. “What?”

Something in Celegorm clicks. “You turn silent often. And your answers are both well thought about, but also formulated in a way it appears to be an answer you all agree on. You always seem to agree on the statement that is made after the long silence, which means you speak in a way you cannot be heard.” They let that sink in.

The five of them, meanwhile, all tense at being discovered. “What about it?” Hermione asked, if a bit defensively.

“Nothing bad, I assure you.” Celebrimbor, their cousin, said. “It is an admirable skill to have, especially this young. Galadriel proved to bear the same gift besides other ones. It begs to wonder, did your father teach you?”

“Amrod wasn’t skilled in ósanwë besides the connection with Amras.” Interjected Celegorm.

“We haven’t seen him for a while, don’t you think?” Retorted Curufin.

Harry looked at each of them.

“It’s more- It’s more of an inborn thing.”

Celebrimbor blinked. “I- I know there’s Galadriel-”

“And Elrond.” Maglor added.

“And Elrond.” He amended.

“And Elros.”

Celebrimbor rolled his eyes. “Which is not the point, but to have all five of you skilled in ósanwë, forgive me when I say this, but I find it very hard to believe. Did Amrod or anyone else teach you when they took you in?” He asks and well, fair, it did sound weird if they didn’t know they were quintuplets beforehand. Which they obviously don’t, seeing their reaction.

Harry doesn’t answer, as others delve into a discussion.

This was it.

‘What do we do? They even think some of us were adopted!’ Neville asked nervousity seeping into the bond. It would be a collective decision to reveal themselves. Admittedly, it wasn’t that big of a thing in face to revealing to each other they are relatives, but still.

Do they want to reveal they’re quintuplets?

‘I can’t fault their logic.’ Muses Hermione. ‘But it might be the time to reveal ourselves.’

‘I guess Gryffindor courage, is what we do.’ Ron says with his own nervousness mixing in.

‘Not a Gryff.” Hannah sniffs. “But I will stand by your decisions.”

Harry locks his eyes with each of his uncles, his cousin, only to stop at their grandfather.

“It is not skill that keeps us connected. It’s a link made at our very begetting.” He says, gesturing at his siblings.

One by one, the others take off their covers revealing a palette of red-haired elflings. They look fairly different from each other, their freckles being the one that connects them all, even the red locks not matching to one another. But it is the resemblance to another that begs more questions rather than answers.

Fëanor is no longer looking at Harry, no, his gaze lingers on each of them, and stops short at Hermione who does not cover and looks back at him challengingly. The faces aren’t just similar, Harry realizes, as he watches the two. They’re near identical.

“We’re all, beget by the same mother, and father.” Hermione says.

“Ai- you’re all- Siblings? Blood siblings?” Curufin asks, something occurring to him that they couldn’t see.

“We are.” Hannah confirms.

The relatives of their exchange glances. Concerned ones, wondorous ones and-

“If I may ask, little nephews,” Maedhros says carefully. Ron mumbles an inaudible ‘not little’ which fell to deaf ears. “What is your yearly difference?”

Ron gaped. He stared incredulously at the elf as if he asked whether water is wet or not. Harry can’t help but feel incredulous too.

“I- I thought it’s obvious?” Ron says.

Maedhros shakes his head. “We can only estimate by your looks. You must be around 8 to 21 at most.” What’s wrong with the the aging?!

Curufin hums in thought. “Maybe three to five years apart? You cannot have gaps wider than that.”

What?

“No.” Maglor disagreed. “Peredhil age differently. It must be between two to three years tops. Besides it wouldn't fit.”

“That’s too early.” Curufin disagreed. “The twins were always of the weaker soul.”

“My sons-”

“Were peredhil and permaiar. I don’t think it’s the same, considering circumstances. All known unions of a purely immortal and a mortal always resulted in just one child.” Curufin finished.

“And yet.” Maedhros interjects. “It is without doubt, all of them are ours and part men.”

It is then that one of them lost their patience. It’s not Ron. Not Harry. Not Hermione either.

“DON’T TALK ABOUT US A IF WE’RE NOT HERE!” Hannah yells loudly, frustrated about being talked about. All they had to do was ask and wait. “Besides, none of us are even year apart.”

That gave them a pause.

“What do you mean, little one?” Fëanor asked.

Hannah puffed up. “I’m not little. And my name is Alyastar. And-”

She pauses.

‘Well, don’t stop mid-speech now.’ Ron echoes in her mind.

“We were begot at the end of July.” Though several of them were born earlier.

They all blink.

“You were?” Celebrimbor questions to clarify.

“All of us.” Hannah says this time firmer.

There’s a choked noise.

“All-”

“I don’t think- Did your mother have children right after birthing one?” Curufin guesses. Brows creased, but Ron had quite enough of this nonsense, thank you very much.

“We shared a womb! We were begot together! And-and-”

“Dad came from twins.” Hermione adds her own explanation. “Multiply that by 2,5. Same year.”

‘2,5?! What kind of answer is that?’ Ron screeched.

‘It’s basic maths Ron.It's written that Noldor like that.’

'It's books Hermione!'

"Exactly! Noldor's favourite pastime!"

It appeared it finally got through them, all looking shocked as the realization sunk in.

“You’re all-”

“Dad calls us lempënóna.” She adds.

Five-born.

Fëanor stepped back, no he stumbled back, this particular revelation astounding him. Others didn’t look any better as they looked rather overwhelmed.

“Are you-”

“Yes, we are sure on how we were born.” As of now, that is.

They had to spend some time digesting the news.

Celebrimbor gave them an apologetic look. “Apologies. It is quite a surprising thing to learn. Twins are rare enough and to have five...”

Celegorm spluttered. “But how?”

“Well,” Hermione said. “It is often said, children born or related to twins are likely to have twins themselves. It similarly applies to us.” Especially fraternal ones.

Maglor hums. “It’s true.” He says thinking of someone else.

“Amrod bought up a whole litter at once?!” Celegorm cried out.

“We’re often called a brood actually.” Ron pipes up. “And saying dad did all the work is kind of daft, don’t you think? You can’t sire children alone.”

“I mean, if you could, that would be cloning.” Hermione said. “Like some reptiles do.”

Neville jabbed her. “We’re not clones.”

Before they could go any deeper into the topic of- cloning apparently, the doors swung open.

“Russo, have you seen Curufin, Celebrimbor? I’ve not seen them in their-”

An unknown elf, with a ruddy face, and dark pitch-black hair, came in, with a vicious scowl that could compete with Percy. Looking closer, he really resembled Percy. He froze upon the sight of them though.

“What- What is this?”

Neville looked back and forth. “Is this another relative?”

Ron whistles lowly. “He totally is. Now we know where Percy came from. We should tell him he’s not adopted after all.”

And then someone behind him came forward.

Hermione squinted. “You look a lot like our dad.”

The red-haired elf froze. Looked at the five of them and-

Fainted.

Ron blinked. "Now, that's a reaction I didn't expect."

1>  Heated

Ron, as the only son of the five that got to live with Amrod from the start, is very passionate about the trauma Amrod suffered. It was back when he got chronic fear of spiders and Amrod went to his room to explain him his fear of fire. Not all fear has to be rational.

“But we’re wizards! Can’t you just take the fire out?” Ron Weasley, 7 yr. old.

Amrod gives him a really strained smile. “You can vanish spiders, so why are you still scared of them?”

“Oh…”

Amrod’s fear evolved through time, boggarts showing insane Fëanor with a torch at first, then just fire, then disappointed Fëanor, his whole family with torches, his brothers leaving him behind, calling him a traitor of the cause, Nerdanel abandoning him…etc. etc.

After having children his fear is that at some point, he’ll lose it, the same way as his father had, and sets his children aflame. Not literally but in an ‘disown’ way.

Harry tells Ron to stop, because he’s disclosing their dad’s greatest fear, but to wizard raised, it’s actually a norm, because boggarts are everywhere, especially in a poor household like Weasleys.

It’s sort of messed up if you think about Lupin bringing a boggart and just had them face their greatest fears, and knowing Fantastic Beasts, we know for sure it wasn’t a rare that-teacher-did-it-thing.

So, boggarts are very common. Which makes it very normal to let 13-year-old face their greatest fear.

2> Knew of them

The kids knew Amrod came from twins, but it was kept hush-hush because Amrod didn’t talk about him the same way Molly didn’t about her brothers. They didn’t want to upset him but sometimes, he would let some things slip out.

3> Attention span

Have you notice that sometimes the five just go seriously off topic? It’s the children’ mind influencing them. Hermione just has that urge to contribute very useless facts and ramble from there and before they notice, they talk about something completely different from the beginning conversation. Ron is the only one aware enough when they do that.

4> Age

The kids look about 6-year-old, and it is of my belief elflings are born more developed than a normal baby and grows pretty quick. By the end of their first or second year of living, they’d look like he’s four and be stuck at that age for a while. They are speculating of course because Maglor’s sons were ehm, kidnapped taken in around the age of human equivalent of 8 to 10 years so they’re not sure how peredhel work before that age.

Names so you don't forget:

Ginny– Ruivën – Wildfire

Luna – Tercenien – Through/Pierce+see = Piercing sight

Hannah– Alyastar – Fair/good + Loyalty/faith = Good faith

Harry - Mírion – Jewel+son = Jewelled son

Neville- Laimandir – Plant+ friend/lover = plant loving

Hermione – Failanár/Faelnor – Fair minded, just + fire = Fire of justice

Ron– Aþumon – Friend at need

Fred- Nyatsorëon – Magpie-Smile = Smiling magpie

George -Nyatsalasën – Mapie-Happiness = Joyful magpie

Percy  –Sanairë –thinker/reflect+lament = Thinking regret

Charlie– Ronyangon – Chaser+dragons = dragon chasing

Bill – Alacarnassë -Well done/made+nature = good natured

Chapter Text

Amras awakens to 5 tiny elflings hovering over him, and at that moment, he wonders whether he should pretend to be still out of it, to hog the attention, but the sharp cough that can only come from Caranthir tells him enough.

He sighted. Only when he gets up does everything come back to him, and the sight of the elflings once again catch his breath. Ai-

“Don’t go fainting on us now. It’ll be your third time in a single day.” Celegorm woke him up from his stupor. His heart thrums as hes fëa connects to the elflings, It’s a twin thing, a closeness he cannot explain differently than of two fëas so close at birth, recognizing his other twins children.

“What happened to the second?” He manages to get out still staring at his-

Nephews. It’s not hard to recognize children of his brother. He doesn’t need to meet them prior to this. He just knows from a single glance. His fëa calls for them almost as if they’re his own.

“Nothing much, just fainted again, after you realised whose kids they are.” Celegorm answers wryly.

“I-I didn’t know.” Celegrom grimaces realising he was not talking of his lack of knowledge itself, but the lost connection. And yet, it still burns to know he missed such an important moment in his brother's life. One of many, apparently. The children means Amrod’s married. What happened to their silly children pledge of never marrying?“Who-Who married Amrod? Where...?” He stammers. His brothers, father, looked surprised at the question. Did they forget to ask?

The boy resembling Nerdanel spoke. “Mom’s not here anymore. She’s- She was mortal. Dad’s in the Halls of Mandos, just so you know.”

Ah- Amras feels vaguely sick at that. Oh Amrod. A man? How long did they have together? They always had such short lives. He licks his lips. They feel vaguely dry. “And- And her name? Which House did she come from?”

Caranthir shot him a look. He winced. Right, they don’t necessarily have to come from a House.

The kids looked at each other. They nod.

“Our mother's name is Molly, daughter of Guinevere, of the House of the Brave...Or Valiant.” The child said slowly. “Or that was the best translation to it. “

“House of the Brave?” Amras repeats. It was, without doubt, a heavy title to live up to. Ominous too, for what kind of terrible thing had the people have to stand before for, to have their valour in the name of their house?

The other also aptly listened, and Amras notices belatedly in the guilty faces of some, and realized they may not have asked for their mother, Amrod’s wife, at all.

He clears his throat. “Well...Then...Can you-Can you tell me of her? Your mother, that is. There is much to catch up to. I’ve not known of- of a lot actually. What kind of person is-was she?” Hopefully a kind one.

“What do you want to know?” Nerdanel-liker boy ask softly, with a rather wistful feeling to his voice. The look others gave him were rather reproachful looks, but it mattered to him a little. He needs to know.

“I- did they share hobbies? How did they meet? How did their courting go? Is-” Was he happy in the marriage? But even he knows that’d be over the line.

“Mom and dad met in school.” Nerdanel-like boy says.

He blinked. “School?” What is that? A meeting? A place? Besides... “And your name is...” He can’t just call him Nerdanel lookalike forever.

“Aþumon”

“Asumon?” He repeats.

“No, with the ‘þ’” The boy corrects with a from. “ ‘s’ sounds too sharp. Anyway,school is-” he makes a motion with his hands but falls short of words...

Fëanor’s lookalike decides to take over from that. “School is a place or establishment meant for teaching and learning for a large group of people.” Oh no, he also talks like their father. From the horrified look from Celegorm, he realized that too. At his stare Curufinwë the third also added. “Faelnor. And I’m a girl.” She emphasizes at the end.

Amras winces. With that face? And name?

Still, he inclined his head in acknowledgement.

Aþumon nods to Faelnor in thanks. “Dad fell in love at first sight, but he was sort of- standoffish? Mom used to say he looked like demiguise with the way he always disappeared when she looked at him longer than five minutes.”

Celegorm cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I never heard of a demiguise.”

“A monkey-sloth like creature that disappears from sight when it needs to be disguised. They see the future too.” Istarnië-like boy with lightest red hair of the five, supplies.

“The what-” Celegorm got harshly jabbed by Caranthir who hissed quietly... “We’re asking for Amrod’s wife right now, Tyelko. You can analyse fictional creatures later.”

Faelnor pursues her lips, looking a bit offended without doubt overhearing them, but Mírion sends her a look that settles her down as Aþumon continues on his tale.

“So, It took some time, and dad was so awkward, he left like those bad cheesy poems-” Aþumon grimaced. “Dad wasn’t made for song-making.”

Maglor choked. Amras had to fight his own smile at the reminder of the, back then, younger and utterly tired Maglor showing them the door, before breaking in tears at the arguably horrible singing, second only to Curufins. His hopes to have another musical sibling were dashed just like that.

“Yes, neither of us were the most capable singers or song writers for that matter.” Amras said, his hands hovering over another child, their grandmother Istarnië’s look alike in question.

“Laimandir.” The small thing whispers. The blue eyes look at the hand in wariness before he, at last, relaxes and lets Amras pat him on the head. It’s soft. Fluffy.

It’s been a long time since he interacted with elflings.

A girl, Mahtan’s girl version, looked questioningly at Aþumon.

“How do you know dad was bad at song-writing?”

Aþumon groans. “Mom collects these. They’re got them all a box and she lets us read sometimes.”

“But how bad?” Míriel-two asks.

Aþumon thinks about it and then reluctantly recites a poem from his memory:

“You, me, we
Two souls stuck together, like a piece of meat
You, me, us
My love bright red, like from a fresh game slain thus,
You me us two,
Us predestined lovers, must belong together,
Like a prisoner’s chain tether.”

They fell into stupefied quiet.

Faelnor opened her mouth, closed it, and then-“Really?” She whispered in astonishment.

Aþumon shrugged. “I mean, Gin has to have her composing skills from someone.”

Míriel Two grimaced at some reminder his brother had given him.

But rather than everyone focusing on who Gin was, they broke into laughs. Celegorm laughed in a loudest booming and infectious way, and even Fëanor let out some chuckles because, by Utumno, that was- that was terrible. Amras couldn’t fight his own laugh before-

Before he broke into cries.

It’s not-

It felt unfair to miss such silly moments. Amrod was courting and he missed all of that. So many stories that could have been told and he was not there to witness them and- and-

The laughter stopped, many looking in concern at Amras.

Aþumon looked stricken realising something. “Sorry- maybe I should-”

“No-No! Tell- Tell me everything. I’ve missed so much I just- please. Just-” Tell me more.

Aþumon looked at the Míriel-double in question and the boy nods which Aþumon takes as a ‘go on’ gesture.

He pursued his lips. “Well, mom was apparently the more proactive one? Dad says that if he didn’t pull away at the last minute, his marriage would have happened inside a changing room.” He moves his hands around making the point.

The children groaned.

“We didn’t need the picture in our minds, Aþumon.” The Míriel-esque boy said much to everyone’s horror.

Maedhors clears his throat. “Apologies, but I can’t help but ask, do you understand the... intricacies behind marriage?”

Aþumon opened his mouth, turned red and glanced away. Faelnor and other girl looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

“Seriously,” Faelnor began. “You’d think boys would have more courage than this. Alyastar isn’t even a Gryff.”

So the other girl’s Alyastar. Amras notes. Good to finally know.

She huffs when none of the boys spoke up and then looked at Maedhros giving the answer herself.

“Since Aþumon, Laimandir nor Mírion can give you an answer, we do know how marriage works. Elves are celibate virgins until they find a person they decide is a good fit to fu-”

Laimandir tackles her.

Mírion nonchalantly continues as if the elves weren’t aware of the words she wanted to speak next. “-spend the eternity with.” he says, smooth as butter, much to the disbelief of others.

Amras- he reels. This isn’t something you teach children until their 50. He helplessly looks at Maglor who looks even more out of depth. “My little stars... they both studied healing so there was never need to sit them down...” So he has no clue if it was acceptable or not.

All of them leaned to the more ‘unacceptable’ ladder. The children didn’t need to know the intricacies behind marriage, especially at such age.

The children curiously peered at them, probably wondering what they were talking about.

“I see... so you know what almost happened in the changing rooms.” Amras said awkwardly.

Aþumon looks at him with a slightly put off look. “I get you’re twins... but I hope you’re not asking me for details.”

It only made Amras chuckle weakly. Hystericaly.“Oh, no, no. I was just- um, perhaps, something else about them? Oh, does Amrod still hunt? We always hunted when we were younger.” Ha says wistfully.

Aþumon perks up. “Mom was wicked good at catching fish. But dad took the cake at hunting deer and other game. He took us every now and then. A family trip. It was also great that it actually came for little cost so we never had to worry much about the money.”

Carnistir twitches exchanging worried glances with Curufin who also overheard this detail. Money? Amrod strugled with money? Celebrimbor shook his head towards them mouthing that they can discuss that later after the children are out of sight.

It’s Fëanor who interrupts in curiosity finding another oddity in the statement. “ ‘Took the cake?’ Do you take cakes during hunting?”

Aþumon blinks.

“It’s an established saying.” Faelnor jumped at Aþumon’s flabbergated face at being asked something that seemed obvious to the child. “Like, um,” She tried to come up with something, Amras could see.

“Give a doxy nip?” Alyastar offered to her sister, who whips her head at her disbelievingly.

“The what?”

“Another established saying?” Alyastar says, almost questioning herself.

“What does that even mean?”

“Oh, it means ‘I don’t care’” Laimandir supplied form the side.

“Oh, your own language’s idioms(senyaquenta)?” Fëanor lights up like his x thousandth begetting day came early. “I believe your languages must be very different from which we know,  for I do not recognize the idioms from any mannish scripts. As for the ‘take the cake’ what does it mean?”

Aþumon coughs. “Yes, well, it means dad was really good at hunting. Never missed a target, and dad really liked to climb the trees to shoot with an arrow from the height. Though his favourite hobby is messing with trinkets.”

Amras stills. “Um, what?” Others froze too, because this was a very new thing to discover.

Aþumon nods. “Like, dad likes to take apart things to learn how they work and then enchant them before putting them back up. He likes to tinker with stuff. Sometimes they blow in his face though. But when they work, it’s wicked.”

“I’m so glad we bought the spare coffee machines.” Faelnor muttered heard only heard by the nearby Amras. What’s a coffee machine?

“Ah, so you’d say... he has a craft?” Amras asks.

Aþumon looks at him oddly. “I guess? It’s- well, he’s not really making those things, he’s messing with them until they work how he wants them to.”

Oh- that’s- That’s new. Amrod never- never seemed to have a particular interest in crafting before so something must have changed...

“Me and my brother have much to catch up to I see.” He says in uncertainty. Apparently, Amrod even picked up a craft while he was gone.

They chat for a while longer after that, and exchange stories about Amrod. There is not little a single doubt they’re his children. Yet still, five children were a surreal sight.

He doesn’t even notice the time they spend chatting, only interrupted by lunch, a tomato soup with a helping of lembas. The children look at the bread curiously. Some even look delighted by the taste.

They must have not eaten Lembas ever before to garner such expressions. Granted, Amrod wasn't exactly a good cook. And yet another question about them arises with no answers in sight.

“Is it some kind of wafer?”  Aþumon asks curiously. He seemed the most delighted by the taste of which they grew used to, long ago. Lembas was common staple in Valinor, though days without, where even a plain ship bisquit filled their stomach tastes as the greatest meal, never left their memories.

Maglor shook his head. “It is bread little ones.” Maglor though, did not lift his spoon, and ate the lembas while his other hand lied still.  Maedhros eyes him, worry evident.

The children took notice. Especially Laimandir.

“Is there something wrong, Lord Maglor?”

“Uncle.” Maglor said softly, now his hand shaking. He put the Lembas down, managing a shaky smile no one believed. “And nigh is wrong it is only-”

“Does your hand hurt?” Laimandir asks.

Faelnor whipped her head at her brother. “He’s hurt? But he made us food! We made a hurt person make us food-”

“No, no-” Maglor stopped them before they could break into panic. “The pain is... but a dull ache to me. It is only an echo, and a terrible reminder of my past sins. It is hideous, terrible thing to behold-” Maglor looks like about to lose his breath.

Maedhros looked at the children, in heavy seriousness. “I must ask of you not to ask him to show you his scars. It is... a heavy thing to behold.”

Laimandir looks at him puzzled. “But I already saw it it’s not that bad...”

An oversight, or maybe Maglor wasn’t entirely conscious of what he was doing during the night. Yet what Laimandir said was incredibly kind of him. Though Maglor wasn’t one to take it, when regarding to his burn.

“It’s a horrible thing, to have scars marring your skin.” Maglor says softly. “Do you not think so?”

“No? Is it not testament of your life?” Mírion says. Now everyone was aptly listening. Conversation once again, gaining a more serious and fell tune.

“And a horrible life I led. It burns me even now. I cannot bear to show you.” And yet, it felt Maglor was begging the children to do so. To push them away.

Of course he’d try to do that. Maedhros sighted internally, preparing himself to intervene until-

“That’s fine.” Mírion says.

Maedhros blinks.

“What?” “What?” He and Maglor say in unison.

Mírion looked rather calm as he said that, sympathetic even.

“Scars are a private thing, and I understand you don’t want to them to be seen.” There was no sign of curiosity but something much heavier and solemn. “But... if you’re...afraid your scars will scare us, I promise, we won’t get scared.”

A far too profound answer for a child. And like Maaedhros expected, before he could stop him, he shown his hand to the children. White, painful lining.

“Tell me, is it not a terrible to see?” Maglor asks them.

The children look at the scar, there is no fear, but sympathy emitting from them.

No, not sympathy.

Something Maedhros couldn’t quite put his hands on.

“It looks painful.”  Alyastar says.

Maglor hums. “The pain is still there. Lingering.” Untreatable unless reembodied. “Do you not see, how marred and terrible I am?”

“Káno-”

“DO YOU NOT SEE THE SINS WRITTEN WITHIN THEM?!”

He should have known. Maglor was looking far too good today. Maedhros got up and put an arm on his shoulder. He violently flinched, guilt overcoming him.

“How can you bear looking at this?” Maglor lowers his voice again. Haunting. “Is it not a fell and terrible scar to see? How can you bear looking at it?”

There is silence, not a stunned one, but contemplative. Maedhros comes before Maglor but the children spoke again. The following conversation chills him.

“I don’t know about the origins of the scars, but I always thought about them as a testament of that what we experienced. Struggled and survived. Done bad and good things. It is... a proof I guess. To me it is.” Mírion says, and before Maglor could even process those words, Mírion showed them his bare arm, turning everything to halt.

The air got colder. Maglor’s eyes sharpened at Mírion’s arm, a terrible scar across the forearm and then- a terrible writing on his palm. Untelligible to them, but no doubt, unkind. The same way bodies found after being defiled by orcs looked, black speech scribbled on them as a mockery. Celegorm hissed from he sight, unmasked fury in his face.

Not even Maedhros could sustain his own growl realizing what that is. “Who hath-”

But before he could finish it, all other children started showing their scars too. Maglor’s self-depreciation party was put on hold as they all focused at the terrible display before him.

After Mírion, Laimandir showed his own sets of cuts, as did Alyastar. Faelnor showed another crude writing on her arm, and all their eyes landed at Aþumon who sighted, seeing all their expectant glances.

He’s the only one to take off his whole cloak and take off his shirt, showing a spiral scar marring his skin from shoulder to arm. Mixed with other scars. They no longer drew sharp breaths.

It’s just eerily quiet. Breathless.

It has been a long time since the entirety of the family was so shocked. But this, this might be something that shook them to their core.

Who harms elflings so? Who dareth?

1> Minor canon divergence

When Fleur happened, they just blinked and continued on their way. Fleur was very frustrated. She tried to woo all of the boys, in a desperate bid, but the kid jut went, ‘Wow, pretty. Anyways-’

Also, while allure works only on opposite sex, if the other one’s gay, then the gay person will totally zero on all the other assets. Suddenly, the female veela looks more muscular, in fact, manly, etc. Which is why it was so weird the boys found no interest in her at all, bent or not bent.

The whole Bill and Fleur was a misunderstanding. Fleur misinterpreted that him, not feeling her allure means he can love her genuinely, but then she realized there’s really no romantic undertone to them whatsoever. They parted in an amiable relationship.

It didn’t work because despite looking fully grown, in mind they weren’t mature yet, and it just blocked out.

2> Of marriages and politics behind them:
I like the idea Mahtan and Nerdanel are no important familly really, and in elven society it isn’t such a taboo to marry a normal person without being out of some important house. But considering how remarkable Fëanor was, they expected... better. Like, lookwise. Because Noldor are all about pretty looking things.

I like the idea Thranduil also married a normal silvan lady without some important line in the mix and so did others. Marriage just wasn’t made for politics for the elves because of the severity of marriage. I mean, you’re stuck with your significant other for eternity, you have to choose carefully.

The titles only matter when it comes for succession, but when you’re not a king or lord with a responsibility for a bunch of people, it was totally okay to just go to a nearest person and start chatting.

The youngest children which were under no threat of ever having a crown or lordship(or so they believed >_>) over their heads got the most lax ‘how to properly lead people if that somehow happens’ briefing and then they were on their way to befriend any and all people.

Proper conduct and how to act noble came after they went to Middle Earth and men and dwarves came up with weird things. Good thing Noldor are always willing to learn. But you can bet because of all that trauma the Noldor that sailed got, they act super weird and poor Finarfin doesn’t get why sometimes some Noldo does a deep bow and hes like: ??? No??? You just have to greet me like normal??? Super deep bows were not a thing.

The elven nobles back in ME became more aggressive and had to exert more authority to keep their people in check and to intimidate their allies from trying something, when going against their common Enemy, which is why other elves also are more respectful to them and are less friends but more a loyal aide... which is heartbreaking for the Valinor elves because being friends should be more important than being a loyal warrior.

Gil-galad is single because he became a king single and elves are panicking because...King? How do you woo a king? Is that even allowed? Where’s the proper way with this??? In short, elves that became kings later on were either already married or single to their deaths. Melian being a Maia, in times where kingship mattered little, spared herself the dilemma.

However, if an elf does marry some lord or even a king, some expectations are held about them and they gotta have the same crash course on how to lead people. The lite version. Because why would they need the elaborate version when they’re unlikely to be separated from their spouse? Right? Right. Ridiculous to even consider.

(Queen Nerdanel handing Finarfin the crown, because the responsibilities and paperwork isn’t what she signed up to. Also because Indis was in a state of grief and so were her children so Nerdanel was the only one technically eligible to crown him. It was politically good for Finarfin, as she came from Fëanor’s house by marriage, so no one complained. Much. Finarfin was ready to toss it back to Nerdanel, but then Nerdanel’s son roasted well-done style, so he held the crown and later forgot he was planning to toss it back.)

3>Celegorm ’s side hobby.

Besides his love of hunting, he loves to listen about mythical creatures from travelers and analyse how many animals they were inspired by, besides debunking some misconceptions about animal facts or animals they’ve seen but made to believe to be something else entirely.

Chapter Text

Harry watched in solemnity as Maglor sung, his voice washing over them. Hannah instantly recognized it as a healing spells of sorts. One sung after another. Unfortunately, most of their scars did not heal. Though Ron did look a bit better with his spirally scars. Apparition scars were a reversible thing after all, but the longer they were left alone, the more permanent they are, but given they were not made by dark magic, they were still treatable unlike dark magic made wounds. It is only because Hannah didn’t get to the cosmetic healing yet, that Ron’s scars were left as they were.

It did not made their uncle happy though, seeing as Ron’s only one big scar healed. The other scars were still there, looking all the more prominent, the splinching scars no longer hiding their severity. While Ron’s splinching scar faded a lot, the brain scars he got from the department of Mysteries didn’t change at all. It still was, a rather eerie sight.

It’s awkward and Harry regrets now, showing them these, but Maglor looks far better than before, and no longer seeming shy of showing his own scars. Instead he sings and touches their scars and trying elven spells to make them better. He feels the soothing magic touching the dark spots but Harry knows they won’t go away. There is so much healing could do after all.

“It’s alright. It’s not like we ever expected it to heal.” Harry grew to love his scars, he even grew to like his lightning scar again, after it became pale. It was a good sign, a pale lightning scar that could hardly be seen. In fact it seemed that it may disappear altogether in time.

An assurance of an end to a chapter in Harry’s life. Hopefully.

Maglor made a rather strangled sound, gathering them together into a big hug with a varied level of success.

“How could that be alright?” He whispers, heartbroken. It seemed he used up all songs he knew, his voice raw and hoarse. “How is it, that they do not heal?”

Aþumon shrugged as he threw his shirt back over his head. “It’s the nature of dark magic tainting them. You can’t heal something like that.” It was common sense. For them.

Hannah was happy to take over seeing their pinched faces. Maybe they did not understand how deep the wounds go. “When dark foul magic is used to harm... it leaves scars that cannot be healed.” But while scars remain, the pain can be erased. Something that is not case for this person. Hannah itched to help him, but necessary potions weren’t within reach right now. “They do not hurt anymore, these scars. Do yours?” She asks.

Hannah reached for his hands which he did not flinch to. He released them from the hold but Hannah kept a firm grip of his injured hand.

“It cannot be treated, little ones. It’s an injury not made by darkness, it cannot be undone nor healed.” He says, his sorrow showing through.

She pursued her lips, touching the hand and putting a bit of her own magic into it.

Well, he wasn’t wrong, the damage couldn’t be undone, but-

“Can I try?” She asked. Truthfully, she could see the extent of his injuries and was sure she can’t heal this at the moment. If ever. But she could treat the pain.

“You know how to heal?” Their newly discovered uncle Maglor asked in a mild surprise. He looked rather impressed. “My son is also quite skilled in his healing.” He says, rather wistfully.

“Just a bit. First aid mostly.” She admitted though to be honest, after the war, she’s not sure with what madam Pomfrey taught her, if that could still be called basic healing. Besides, she wasn’t lazing around after she came here reading a hefty sum of healing spells and practices herself in their spare time.

“Can I try then?” She asked again.

He looked at her, all sad. “Of course you may. Though it may do no difference.”

She nodded, determined to help him, if only a little bit. She knew her limitations. “I can’t really diagnose you right now. I don’t have the resources.” And a wand. “But I can do the easiest thing mostly.” Wandlessly too. Which was a big bonus when wands are currently unavailable.

“Easiest?” Maglor prompted.

“Erasing the pain.” She then whispered, looking intently at the hand. “Dolor extermina.”

Blue light started to come from the wound and disappeared into her. It was quite a simple spell that took pain away and powered her. It was a neat thing when you had to treat a lot of patients as it was not only easy but the cost is lower than the gain. She could feel a bit invigorated too, absorbing the pain that was changed to a form of energy. At least now, she was sure it was no dark curse truly, because it would have been more tedious otherwise. She was unsure if that was a good sign or not.

Maglor took a sharp breath no doubt feeling the change.

Hannah sighted, a bit disappointed by the limits, letting go of the hand. “It’s not truly healed. It’s a military first aid used for soldiers that were forced to keep going.” Which was rather cruel thinking about it. “You just won’t feel the pain. The damage is still the same. Say, if someone was bleeding, you can take away the pain, but he will still bleed all the same. It’s...I’m sorry, it’s all I can do for now.” If only he visited their home, she might be able to brew something though. Though given they’re related, they might visit each other, no? Another potion to make on her list then....

She did not expect to be squeezed tight by Maglor’s arms. It was so quick Harry and Ron jumped in alarm before noticing there was nothing threatening in the hug.

“It- It does not hurt-” He seems to sob. It’s strange. It was literally the only thing she could do. It was a fairly simple spell, and the only backfiring aspect would be ridding him of all emotions if overused which was very hard to do.

She couldn’t really do more. She says that aloud too.

Hermione helpfully pats his back, also giving vital tips. “You won’t feel pain in that arm so you should be careful around hot, cold and any injuries on them.” In war, it mattered little, for most of the time those that had this spell either had to fight, were dying or the agony of wounds were so insanity inducing they had to be forcefully dampened.

Hannah nods into his hug. The hug is really cozy, despite his trembling figure. It made her feel like she did more than she really did. “I’ll be better next time.”She promises. She’ll be better with her wandless magic. More prepared too. Next time, she might do something more helpful than this. And carry potions on her body next time.

“Did the healing hurt?” Interjected Amras, looking worried as he’d seen the blue light traveling into Hannah. She shook her head, but he still had the pinched look that told him he wasn’t convinced that it was without pain.

Before they could say anything else, a rather loud thud could be heard from the window. Ron perked up, immediately recognising his overly energetic owl.

“Pigwigeon!” Ron cried out as he went towards the high window, looking intently at adults. Carinthir, the new adult uncle, graciously opened it, letting the owl in.

It slammed down in the ground. Ron gasped. “Wake up Pig, you can’t be going the Errol way yet.” Thankfully, the chipper bird got up and cheerfully chirped back as it got rid of some snow off it’s feathers and presented a letter proudly. The others safe Celegorm were very startled by the owl that made it's way here. He also gave the bird an offended look.

“It’s from Bill again!” Ron said, moving the letter that he removed from it's leg.

They all perked up, while Celegorm grabbed the bird, chirping back at it. Pigwigeon looked startled, as did others looking at the exchange.

Ron meanwhile, got to reading the content.

Curufin looked pinched. "Is this the right time to have a conversation with the wild, Celegorm?"

Harry looked at him in consideration. He removes himself from Maglor, gaining attention from the hunter.

“You can talk to birds?”

Celegorm looked down and then smiled broadly, still keeping the offended bird in tight hold, visibly proud of his next words. “To all animals in fact.” He answers.

"All?"

"All." He confirms.

“To danger noodles too?” Harry further inquired.

“The what?”

“That’s only when they’re venomous.” Hermione interjected. “Other names are nope-rope.”

“Only if you’re scared of them.” Hannah said. “Boop-noodles fits better since he can talk to them. They can’t all be bad.”

Harry opens his mouth to protest, but then he remembers the snake at the zoo that was far from the murderous lunatic the Basilisk and Nagini were. And their new house snakes too.

“Well, I guess I can call them hazard spaghetti instead.” Harry amends.

It finally dawned on Celegorm just then what they were talking about. “You mean snakes?” He asks incredulously.

The children looked blankly at him.

“A reptile without limbs that slithers on the ground.” He says, his mouth tugging into a small smile. Danger noodles? That's a new one.

Hermione opened her mouth, but then she remembers who taught them animal names and it just dawns at her that of course Charlie would make cutesy nicknames for species and not tell them he's came with them. They've been calling them a wrong name all along. “We’ve been had, by our brother no less. So danger noodles are called snakes?” She looks affronted and betrayed by this revelation.

Before Celegorm gets to question them, Ron is done reading the letter. “Bill-Alacarno is just checking on us.” Ron said.  It stopped some of the adults in their tracks at the name. Maedhros looked intrigued.

“Alacarno?”

Ron absentmindedly nodded. “It’s just a nickname. Alacarnassë is our brother’s whole name but it’s a mouthful.”

“Alacarnassë.” Maedhros stressed.

Carinthir snorted. “Let me guess, he also happens to be your eldest brother.”

Laimandir blinked looking at him in wonder. “How did you know?”

Fëanor coughed.

Hermiones scooted closer to Ron. “What does he say?”

“He’s checking, if we’re fine, also to not take any suspicious deals, no promises, binding oaths, agreements and to not, for the love of all dear, sign our name on some contract promising lifelong slavery. The usual things when we get lost actually. That and he’s arriving soon. Oh, and he attached a second letter for you.” Bill has been right paranoid after working with Gringotts, so this was no news. Ron took out a secondary letter. Curufin squinted, taking the letter and how it was taken out from the envelope that looked far too flat to have two letters inside and a pencil to write back with.

Carinthir was meanwhile nodding in approval as it the letter content made sense to him.

“How did the letter fit into the envelope?” Curufin asks curiosuly.

Ron shrugged. “It just did?” He held the envelope out for taking.

Curufin gingerly looked at the envelope Ron gave them and tried to fit the letter back inside the same way Ron took it out. Which means vertically. Just as it went out it went inside, disappearing in a way it shouldn’t have been possible.

Feanor is quick to approach his son to study the thing together.

He took out a pencil and both of them watched as it sank into the envelope, remaining as slim and flat as if it didn’t just swallow a whole pencil inside. Then they turned it over and the pencil and the letter fell out.

Carinthir looked completely done with his inventive family and before Clebrimbor managed to join them in studying an envelope of all things, he snatched the letter addressed to them, reading it swiftly.

Just a cursory glance made him smirk.

“He writes much like you Russo.” He says amused. It was a mixture of fussing, thanks, and veiled threats all in one. It was very similar to a letter written to Fingon by Maedhros, ‘that while Celegorm's good relationship with Aredhel is a good thing, considering their messy relations, he can’t keep him indefinitely and his return before Feanor coming back from the forges would be preferable’.

He wrote very cordially and neatly too.

Though there was a little excerpt that made his face frown a bit, not going unnoticed by Maedhros and Amras.

________________________________________________

“Are the children asleep?” Celebrimbor asked.

Maedhros nodded. “Maglor’s healing songs are tiring to the singer and the affected.” Which means Maglor was out too.

“No healing held besides the one.” Amras said grimly remembering Aþumon’s scars fading only to show another set hidden under them. Those scars...he closes his eyes.

What horrible thing could have befallen them?

“Someone was cruel to them.” Celebrimbor echoed, his voice faint. “It was without doubt torture.” The words they cannot read etched onto their skin like a mockery- He shivered at the thought of it.

“Elrond was scheduled to arrive tomorrow. Do you think he might be able to heal them?” Curufin asks grimly. It was hard to look at. Some scars looked rather raw, despite not bleeding at all.

Maedhros thinks back at some of those wounds. Some looked scorched, seemed raw in a gruesome, unnatural way. The children voices echo in his mind of the irreversibility of their scars and he sighs heavily.  “I will consult him when Elrond arrives, he may have a way.” If Elrond didn’t jump to help them immediately. The peacefulness of Valinor made Elrond quite a peredhel with far too much free time.

Speaking of peredhel…

“I suppose meeting the in-laws is off the table then.” Celegorm commented to break the tension.

Peredhel, all five of them. Or six?

Those words were enough to break them into a discussion.

“Forget in-laws. What are those scars? Amrod…” Carinthir trailed off but Amras bristled at the assumption. It was his twin they’re talking about.

“Would never. Do not speculate such. Those are his children.” He stressed.

“We don’t know for sure, Amrod was gone for long-” Curufin started. Fëanor stood back in silence, watching them, contemplating himself.

Curufin continued. “Besides, we know by the way of Ëol, not all values hold to the passage of time-”

“HE WOULD NEVER!” Amras shouted, all of them reeling back at the force of his voice. “He was the best of us. He would never- never-” Never deal such cruel wounds upon children. Especially his. Remained unspoken but conviction unwavering.

“And yet, we must speak of it, for who it could have been.” Maedhros spoke,a rare, commanding coldness emitting from him. His brothers straightened, each looking grim. “Someone hurt them.”

Celebrimbor nods a sudden thought occurring to him. “There is... it’s still a question how they got here, if not by ships. Sailing stopped thousands of years ago. They are too young, and yet there is no way for them to have gotten those wounds because scars made by dark magics- it cannot reach here.”

Carinthir snorted and shook his head. “It is true, big sailings stopped after Círdan sailed, but there are Avari still, who sail by small boats and Ulmo still grants them blessings and passage. Don’t read Pengolodh writings. He puts too much weight on High elves.”

Celebrimbor opens his mouth before he realized that yes, he did get that from Pengolodh’s scripts. They’re so widespread it’s becoming an actual problem.

Carinthir hummed, guessing what his nephew thought. “The books had been coming under scrutiny lately. After he made a mistake of speaking of Teleri and ‘poor things’ in the same sentence. The Vanyar also, though I have yet to know what set them off so much, but he’s rather coming undone, very fast. ” He adds that with a rather vicious smirk.

“So it is possible he sailed very late.” Curufin summarized coming back to the topic at hand. “If 800 years after the last recorded avari came, could be considered just late.”

“Maybe it wasn’t much of a choice to go but there was nowhere else to go.” Amras chimed in. It just occurred to him- “Their mother is dead.”

“She may have died at chilbirth.” Celegorm added his thoughts. 5 is a big number to carry alone.

Amras shook his head. “The stories that they have are clearly from two perspectives. Their mother did not die of childbirth and I’m of the thought she did not die a natural death of men.”

They go quiet. That- That would mean Amrod’s wife, their in-law... They grimaced. Death of a spouse is never a pleasant thing to experience.

“It would explain why go into Valinor, losing her to some sort of danger. Danger that had hands on the children too. Orcs had been fading but they are present still, in Middle Earth. And those that follow dark lords despite them being vanquished.” Maedhros adds his thoughts.

“It may be even that they were captured by orcs themselves for a brief while.” Curufin murmured, to which everyone inhaled sharply.

“Ai, Curvo, that itself is a dangerous thought.” Maedhros said with a warning.

“I know, but those scars seeped by dark magics, it’s something to consider. Most of those scars weren’t made, for sure, by foul beasts. They’re too even. Though some remind me of werewolf gnashes, though, no bite was seen upon them which is odd by itself if they were attacked by such beasts.” Curvo defends his thoughts with grim reasoning.

“Then we should consider men instead of orcs.” Caranthir said. “Omitting the fact no elfling survived a meetings with orcs, forget the peredhil bit, the more we look at it, the more it looks like a work of man, than an orc. Wargs would be probably the closest you can find to a werewolf in Middle Earth as off now, and lack of bites would speak of controlling those beasts, something orcs do not exhibit but men would. It would explain their survival, because orcs were not known for restraint in tormenting their victims. And while scars look cursed, notice the clean slashes. Orcs are not known for brandishing their weapons either.”

“Men themselves? That’s-” Fëanor asked harshly.

“Not unheard of. Much cruelty happened, especially in ranks of the dark lord to their own kin.” Maedhros said. Their father wasn’t at the worst of it.

“Are you kidding me?!” Celegorm slammed his hands on the table. Celebrimbor winced but looked pointedly at him, because certain elflings and a sick elf were sleeping right now. “Are you not angry?! How can you act so calm?! Or kin, our nephews had been hurt. Why are you acting like-”

“It’s not like we can sail back to get our revenge Tyelko.” Caranthir said irritably and raised his eyebrow as Celegorm looked almost challenging at the statement.

“No revenge.” Maedhros hissed but it was much more half-hearted than it should have been, because that’s their baby niblings they’re speaking about. “We should think of what to do currently rather than dwell on thing we cannot undo.”

They remain quiet.

The air is heavy. Too many questions, and no answer they can get.

Curufin speaks quietly abruptly changing topics. “We have actual nieces.”

“Two. I would have not expected that of our youngest.” Caranthir says. “Mother will be delighted.”

Fëanor nods. “It should be told, in person. Amrod is... in Mandos halls is he not? I should try to meet him halfway.” It was better than visiting his home uninvited. They knew how well it went last time he tried to knock at someone’s doorstep to apologise.

“Still, five children at once? I wasn’t expecting that. Maybe she was a rabbit skinchanger. She produced a whole brood. And daughters too. And two brothers.” Celegorm adds in afterthought. “The twins weren't of large fëa.” Amras did not need to affirm but nodded nonetheless. Having seven children already marked her as extraordinary as Nerdanel. Someone had to pull the weight, and the twins for sure didn’t have the fëa for it.

“Two?”

“Faelnor spoke in plural the first time we met.” Celegorm is of little suspicion their little brother (not anymore apparently, as he has smaller walking versions of himself on the loose) was determined on cloning. “Though I know even less about the other one than the first one.”

Curufin snorts. “Alacarnassë. It seems we got a second Russo in the making.” Others couldn’t help their own snorts.

“Careful, he may not be the only one Amrod replicated.” Amras couldn’t help but add with his own smile, if a bit wistful. “We have seen tiny replicas in their faces already.”

Fëanor looked at in consideration something occurring to him. “Would you-”

Amras knew what he asked. Visit Amrod in Mandos with him. Oh, he aches to see him again, but going with their atto, of all people, will sour their meeting quick, and Amras, if anything, wants it to be perfect reconnecting and free from resentment that he’s sure to resurface once father and Amrod meet. “No, I will stay with the children.  I believe meeting him would be better done alone. I will catch up with my brother later, but I would not leave his children until I’m sure of their safety. My fëa almost mistaken them as my own. Besides... there are grievances to be settled between you and Umbarto.” Nothing he wants to be nearby. Amrod may not be one with the nastiest temper in their family, but he sure was one to hold grudges for the longest.

Fëanor winced but did not rebuke his words.

Curufin looked over. “Will you be going now?”

Fëanor looks considering. “I will wait until my new grandson comes to our home. It would do good to meet before we both go separate ways.” that is, if they allow him to leave with 5 children in tow.

“We can compare similarities of you two.” Curufin adds thoughtfully looking at Maedhros.

To be honest, he himself was curious about his nephew too. Oldest of the seven, one to another.

If nothing else, then to share experience of taking care of 6 younger siblings.

“Though it jars me that he left them lost in the forest.” Celegorm adds with a hint of dissatisfaction. It gains a few concerned looks but-

“Let’s not presume so, I’m sure there is an appropriate explanation once he comes.” Maedhros says in a frown.

“Indeed, though I wonder where they live.” Caranthir said loudly. Celegorm again adopted that pinched expression.

“They were vague. They only say north, but there is little place to go farther than Formenos, yet the letter said they’re a month away from home, either the road is very steep and complicated to walk through, or it’s far into Araman. Though given their brother wrote he will come here in days, the earlier idea seems more plausible.” Celegorm summarized.

“Luckily Elrond will come before he does, he can asses the injuries they have.” Celebrimbor says. In fact, he was sure he may arrive sooner as expected, as he often does, whether he feels his presence is needed.

“By the way.” Curufin drawled. “What was Amrod thinking when naming them? Faelnor? Mírion?”

“Don’t forget Aþumon. With the ‘þ’” Amras said with a smile. “Though you have no say, your son just barely missed Curufinwë the third.” Only because his wife, despite freshly giving birth, had him in a choke hold, hearing him utter that nonsense.

Celebrimbor comically pat his chest in mock-relief in the background.

“Do you think the children already picked interests?” Feanor asked.

“Well, you can try to get Faelnor to the forges. Though her linguist skills are already showing. She can speak fluently Sindarin already. That’s at least three languages all fluent.” Celegorm throws in.

“Yes, the mannish language. Do you happen to know which one, we could narrow where he lived in Middle Earth.” Maedhros asked.

Celegorm repeated some words from them as everyone gained intrigued faces.

“I’ve heard many languages in my life in Middle Earth. It’s a very odd mixture of mannish language but softer and clearer than languages usual to countryside men.” Celebrimbor pitched in. “But it’s too different to belong to any mannish kindgdoms. In fact, I think the similarities are only surface ones. Though none from enemy forces for sure, it lacks guttal noises that enemy men adopted from working with black speech.”

And so, their discussions went  into much more lighthearted note. There was not much to say besides wait for Elrond and their nephew-cousin-grandson to arrive. Indeed, there was nothing else to do but wait.

Only for it to be thrown out of the window as Caranthir pipes up with another disturbing discovery.

“I think he’s struggling with money.”

____________________________________

From the distance, Bill and his unicorn watch, approaching Formenos with caution.

1) Fingon failing at kidnapping

Fingon definitely tried to pull one on Celegorm, but Maedhros was like: Haha, no.

Finweans have a problem, but Feanorian have a poor impulse control to add to it, so it shows more prominently.

Finarfin during the ice *squints*: Let me just think it through one more time.

Meet Finarfin, the king who actually thinks things through.

2) Absolute garbage

 Curufin is vibing with the ’don’t read that trash, son’

3) Nibling

I got tired of writing nephews and nieces, so I searched google for a suitable replacement that’s shorter.

Nibling is my new favourite word now; it has no right to sound that cute.

4) of 7 Siblings

Celegrom: Yes of course, two more children to make 7, makes sense.

The remaining five children: Are we a joke to you.

5) It’s hereditary

Amrod *squinting at Hermione*: This is only a surface likeness. Hermione is an angel. I mean, I know she has a brilliant mind like my father, but she wouldn't hurt a fly.

*Meanwhile Hermione*

-Scarring Marinetta with a contract jinx (Oath of Feanor)

-Sets Snape on fire(Ships)

-Gets centaurs to attack Umbridge (Overthrowing of Finrod)

-Attacking Malfoy (Feanor swordpoint)

-Rita Skeeter imprisonment(Lúthien)

Hermione:Guess who's gonna die in the unbreakable jar I just charmed if they try to turn back- *shakes Skeeter violently*

Harry: JFkhkjh HERMIONE.

Ron: Nono, let her cook.👀👀👀

-Does not believe in divination(Feanor to Neradel)

-Created the galleons with meeting plans(Level down Palantíri)

Hermione is a menace, change my mind.

6)Naming sense:

The unicorn Bill is riding on is named Min(one)rassë(horn)

…

Don’t look at me.

7)Danger noodles

Inspired by this.

Charlie gives nicknames and tells no one.

Names so you don't forget

Ginny– Ruivën – Wildfire

Luna – Tercenien – Through/Pierce+see = Piercing sight

Hannah– Alyastar – Fair/good + Loyalty/faith = Good faith

Harry - Mírion – Jewel+son = Jewelled son

Neville- Laimandir – Plant+ friend/lover = plant loving

Hermione – Failanár/Faelnor – Fair minded, just + fire = Fire of justice

Ron– Aþumon – Friend at need

Fred- Nyatsorëon – Magpie-Smile = Smiling magpie

George -Nyatsalasën – Mapie-Happiness = Joyful magpie

Percy  –Sanairë –thinker/reflect+lament = Thinking regret

Charlie– Ronyangon – Chaser+dragons = dragon chasing

Bill – Alacarnassë -Well done/made+nature = good natured

Chapter Text

“What do you mean he’s struggling with money?” Amras asks, concerned.

“Well, omitting the fact since he was thought missing, he was cut off from the family finances,” And Caranthir would know, as he’s the one in charge of said finances, “there are a lot of signs. The lack of jewels for example.”

Celebrimbor frowned. “Could that not be a preference? Uncle Amras and Celegorm are not ones to wear jewels often either.”

Celegorm nodded, but Amras shook his head.

“Our differences went farther than hair colour. Back when our hair colour didn’t sell us out, Amrod opted to not wear jewels for us to look more identical. He liked jewels as any other of us. Besides, jewels is a language of our kin, he would not have taken it from them- even, even if he held great anger in his fëa. All Noldor children wear jewels in their childhood.” Amras said with conviction.

“Which leaves monetary struggles.” Caranthir said grimly. “They said they often went out into nature to save money. Surely you caught that bit.”

“There is nothing wrong with taking children out into the woods as a vacation.” Protested Celegorm.

The head of finances of the Fëanorian treasury rolled his eyes. “I’m sure there isn’t for you, but the way they spoke of it, it’s more likely they couldn’t afford any better. And there is another concerning thing in mind.” He waved the letter addressed to them.

“Our dear nephew Alacarnassë states the dire state of their living. Apparently, they cannot compensate us monetarily, for keeping his siblings safe, as they have not much of precious gold nor jewels at the moment. Instead he’s offering pelt and skin or wool from their pets. Or even harvest from their crops.” Caranthir says, throwing forward the letter for them to read.

“Amrod’s a farmer?” Curufin says, baffled. Amrod? That one who thought keeping weeds was natural and never bothered to get rid of garden pests? That Amrod?

“There’s only two of us, and I’m here.” Amras said irritably, though it horrified him, for if Amrod had an imaginary garden to care for, he would keep even moles in the garden, uncaring of the damage they could leave behind.

“Nothing’s too sure. Let’s not come to conclusions too early, we’ll ask the children tomorrow about what Amrod does for living.” Maedhros interjected.

“Well, apparently not enough since he’s so poor he can’t buy them simple jewels.” Curufin says a little bit sharply before sighing with an apologetic bob. “Apologies. But our nephews were practically stripped of their culture. It’s... it’s not right.”

“Clearly, Amrod didn’t seem to have the options to.”  Maedhros reminds his brother.

“Well, we’ll just remedy it by giving them their begetting gifts, no? We’re years long overdue anyway.” Celegorm suggested, making the masters of their craft all perk up.

“It would certainly make up for all the lost time.” Fëanor said softly.

Maedhros suddenly jerked a bit, coming to the window that Caranthir was besides at. His gaze softened as he looked out seeing something in the distance.

“It’s Elrond. He’s here.” And there was warmth behind these words no one but those who knew, could understand.

_______________________________

Seeing Formenos, the ever cold fortress void of singing, was either a good or a very bad sign. Elrond didn’t waste time to find out which. He rode quicker just to be safe. As he was received inside he couldn't help but overhear some servants talking.

“We’ve been given a day off.” They tell him.

Another sighs in exasperated way like an old parent. “I’ve heard Lord Maedhros that morning. It seems Lord Celegorm hath once again smuggled one of his animals inside.”

A nís blinks. “Again? It hasn’t even been a week. What is it this time?”

“Probably a group of baby bears I think. Their eyes did rather menacingly shine.”

“Ugh, I hope it’s not them again. I don’t think our healers want to deal with a murked face of a patient like those olden days.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me, the bloodiest disaster before the darkening.” Another groaned. Elrond grimaced.

His disaster uncle smuggled what?

The servants nodded to him as he entered the emptied Formenos, heavy steps indicating the arrival of his adoptive father. “Atar.” Elrong greeted warmly, getting a welcoming hug with two arms. It's still a surreal feeling.

“You came early.” He said, his hug still tight.

“I had a feeling.” He replied back to his father. His gaze turned serious. “Are you alright? Is it atto? Is he-”

“He’s alright, I assure you. In fact, he’s in a rather good mood.”

Relief came in floods.

“There is no need of my help then. Is he asleep?” So why did he feel urgent when thinking about coming here?

Maedhros nods before he winces. “Actually, I may still need your help in healing. Their injuries are vast and it’s hard to know their true extent without a proper healer.”

Elrond straightens his back, looking concerned and curious. “Injured? It is rare to have such a deep injury in need of a proper healer in Valinor. How did they come to have them? What kind of injuries?” He wasted no time in questioning.

“I do not know the details I’m afraid. You’d have to ask them yourself, though maybe without some of my more volatile siblings.” Maedhros was sure it would cause immense rage if they saw the extent of the injuries, as he’s sure he only saw a small portion of their multitude of scars.

Elrond frowns. “Knowing how an injury came to be is rather important to know when treating someone. Even rough knowledge would suffice.”

Maedhros sighted. “Cuts for sure, ones that refuse to heal.” He looks rather haunted and, belatedly, Elrond realizes more than mildly tired.

“You’ve not slept. Their injuries must concern you greatly. I wonder, who are they? A precious friend of yours?”

Maedhros shook his head.

“No... It’s... well, Celegorm stumbled upon them on accident. We’re familial.”

Elrond cocks his head, mildly puzzled by the wording, as Maedhros leads him through the familiar corridors to a makeshift healing ward that Elrond established together with Nerdanel many years ago.

He frowns as the room is empty. “Where is the patient?” He asks, “Surely, you did not let them walk away with an unidentified injury?”

Maedhros denies so.

“The injuries are old.” His atar looks in pain, saying so. “They can function fine, but it would put me to rest if you looked them over.”

“Them?”

“There’s five of them.”

Five injured elves. Elrond looked rather grim hearing so. “Take me to them atar.”

And then go, right before-

“This is atto’s room.” Elrond exclaims in confusion as they stop before Maglor’s rooms.

“He took them there before we could give them rooms of their own.” Maedhros says with a deep sigh, exasperated. Elrond blinks in confusion.

“Their own? Not a guest room?” That was odd...

Maedhros looked at Elrond and something dawned on him. “Oh, they are-”

The door of Maglor’s room opened and multitude of eyes stared at them.

“Is it morning already?” The young sleepy voices make’s Elrond stumble and he stares blankly at the bunch.

“Atar.”

Maglor perked up at the sound of Elrond’s reprimanding tone, but did not wake looking content, as one would, having 5 elflings all for himself.

Elrond looks meaningfully at Maedhros. “You could not have started with them being elflings?"

___________________________________________

Meanwhile in the burrow:

“I don’t think baby chicks are supposed to look like this.” Percy said, looking at the newly hatched batch. “Luna, what did you do?!”

The chicks hissed with their long, snake-like tongues, small sparks appearing in their throats and tiny dragon-like tails wiggling wildy from one side to another.

“You told me to incubate them.” Luna said innocently, rather matter-off-factly.

“Yeah, I did tell you that, but what exactly did you do?”

“I asked Harry’s runespoor to look after them.” She said that, like it was the most sensible thing to do. Even Ginny gaped at her.

Harry’s rune-

“You let chicken eggs hatch under a snake.” Percy said slowly hysteria rising inside him. Oh Merlin, this is a textbook violation of a do-not-do-rule.

Ginny pinched one of the freshly hatched ones, but retracted her hand immediately as the chick’s mouth sparked a little in retaliation. She grimaced. This will not go over well with Bill.

“What is that anyway?” She asks, trying to make out where the dragon part starts and chicken ends.

“Cockatrice. Imagine a dragon with chicken features.” Percy told them feeling tired all of sudden. It was taken out of the curriculum due to how many times students attempted to hatch it by the time the twins came around.

“They look cute.” Luna says. Ginny gives her an exasperated look but does not disagree.

“They are also highly destructive.” Percy adds looking down at the small chicks. “This would have never happened if the chickens survived the jarveys.” He said long-sufferingly. At least the gnomes survived them.

“Well, I’m sure Charlie will like them. They’re half dragon already.” Ginny said awkwardly, looking at those…chicks.

“I’m not worried about that, but who’s going to tell Bill?” Because it’s their brother they have to worry about. Their father would probably blink twice, admire the ingenuity and then move on. Because it’s their dad.

Bill is a whole another story.

Ginny and Percy looked at each other long and steady, before looking at Luna.

“You were always the braver sister of us two Luna.” Ginny said giving her sister a hug.

Percy nodded solemnly in the back. “Your sacrifice will be remembered.”

On the other side of the burrow, the twins were trying out their experiments.

The sheep drank the potion mixed in water without a hint of worry. George watched the sheep’s fur, gaining a rather fluffy look and a rather glossy Ravenclaw blue colour. Fred and George looked at each other with a smug grin. After their numerous tries, they might have finally found the trick to make just the right colouring potion to paint their sheep with. Best of all, it’s permanent.

The sheep looked unbothered with the abrupt colour change as Fred and George high-fived each other.

Somewhere, from a very high altitude of their burrow, Charlie shouted at them.

“FRED! GEORGE!”

___________________________________________

“You know, isn’t it a little too convenient that a healer came?” Mírion asked, as their apparent cousin Elrond wanted to examine each of them, his face already growing dark as he looked over Aþumon.

Elrond wasn’t exactly prepared to see his father cuddling small cousins of his, that miraculously appeared in uncle Celegorm’s way, whom were apparently all alone without supervision back then, and also to examine their injuries that makes him horribly uneasy. There’s something off about them, something besides the peredhel bit that nagged his mind but could not make sense out of his mind. It was a long time since his mind nagged him about something. But he was sure there was something more to them, well, besides the things they discovered now.

Maedhros and Amras were with them, looking over his shoulder, concerned. The injuries were extensive and it made them wince still. Maglor was without doubt behind the doors listening in, but it was better than watching his outburst in front of the children.

“I had quite the feeling I would be needed here sooner.” He said to the children seeing their confusion.

Alyastar, the sweet child Elrond was sure was leading a path of a healer, perked up at his words.

“Do you have foresight?” She asks, interested. Aþumon groans by her side.

“Not everyone that says that has to be necessarily a seer, Alyastar.”

She pouts, and Elrond-

He can’t help but break out a rather teasing smile. “Why, I do indeed have the gift of foresight.” He says, his eyes trained on Aþumon’s injuries. (They said they should go by milder ones first and Elrond feel unexplainable rage, grief and horror.) He had not tapped to the internal injuries yet, but the surface scars that are old but grievous is horrible to see on children so young.

“Oh! Since you can see, do you think you can help Aþumon? He can’t control his sight sometimes.”

Elrond blinked, although some of them can see glimpses of the future, Fëanor and his kin weren’t skilled in seeing exactly. Every elf is capable of feeling something foreboding and dooms approaching respectively, as well as ignoring said warning signs, and the Feanorians are no different. But to be truly gifted in foresight... well, it sure did not come from Amrod.

His sight came from Melian’s part, while Galadriel and Celebrían’s came from their Vanya ancestry.

“Is that so?” He hummed.

“It’s true.” Laimandir says. “He knows things, has accurate hunches, makes pretty good guesses, and he can tell what’s about to happen, without thinking about it much.” That alone puts him in a more ‘plausible seer’ section.

“That’s not true.” Aþumon agrues.

“It is.” Laimandir insists. “You make throwaway comments that always mean something. Or do something you don’t realize it’s relevant. Like hiding sweets without reason only to have our brothers spike the rest. Or refiling the medical box, and not a day later, someone accidentally gets injured by something. Or that time you cursed my plant to die-”

Aþumon rose in defence. “I did not curse it, besides that thing bit me-”

“Does that happen often?” Elrond interrupted with concern. Also, a plant bites?

The children look up. Mírion speaks up. “The injuries bit? Or the seeing? Both happen fairly often.”

Horrifying to know.

But as Elrond examined the injuries... He pushed a bit of his magic into Aþumon, probing the injuries. It told-

“You must’ve been here for less than a year. In Valinor.” He says finally. He can feel Maedhros still, new information gathering. The children look surprised and look at him quizzically.

“How did you know?” Faelnor asks, curiosity seeping in every word.

“Aþumon’s injuries, the unhealable and large, stop at one abrupt point, as if you were away from... danger.” Literally removed from whatever hurt them. He can feel Amras sigh in relief behind them, probably certain this could not be inflicted by his twin then. He shares the sentiments. While he doubts they could be inflicted by an elf, however cruel they were, the ‘if’ always hangs like a deadly noose.

Alyastar looked interested at his healing method. “Can anyone learn this?” She asks in hopes.

“With enough dedication yes. Speaking of examining, I’m done with Aþumon’s. I can say, all is well healed, though scars will remain behind. The darkness should wear away the longer you are in Valinor. As will scars. May I examine another one of you?” He asks softly, eyes downcast. It is terrible, truly, for children so young to be already so scarred.

Alyastar came forward. He oversaw her surface injuries, and as she took off her shirt he-

His breath caught his throat, looking at her back. It was healed yes, but the traces-

“Elrond, what is it?” Amras asked, his voice wavering slightly. “Is something wrong with my niece?”

He felt like laughing. In hysteria. Wrong? This was much more horrifying compared to-

Mírion looked over and cocked his head as he saw her back, grimacing slightly. “Your slash marks. Carrows?” She nodded, almost like a shrug.

Elrond knew not of who Carrows were, but what he did know was the simmering rage of Maedhros behind him.

“Slash marks? How did you come to them?” Amras asks as Maedhros was vibrating in the back. Elrond pointedly ignored another dark presence just behind the healing halls’s doors.

“Punishment while...imprisoned.” She says still nonchalant. Amras looks outraged, but Aþumon is the first to scoff.

“Torture more like.”Aþumon spits, to which Laimandir nods. It surprises him, the openness of which they speak of their scars.

“They’ve seen her try to alleviate pain when others came back from their torture. They caught her once.” Elrond can’t look at them, not with his own furious rage burning under his skin and horror painting his face. The last words are haunting and to think all that damage was made from being caught only once-

He looks away briefly, gathering his wits. It’s easy to treat other elves, men, dwarves and their young, but elflings were such rare things, rarely hurt, and especially not to this extent. It’s hard, keeping his composure, when such wrongs were done to her, to them all, he realizes, reminded of the children choosing to go in ascending order.

Alyastar smiled, proud, and he can feel Maedhros turn around to hide his own horror.

“They didn't catch me a second time.” She says, as if once wasn’t enough, as if her back didn’t speak of the cruelty done to her. They do not elaborate after that, and the room gains a sad, tight atmosphere.

Elrond gingerly touched the scars. They seemed oddly fresh, and yet carried a sign of being rather old scars. Like someone wanted them to hurt long after having them. His hands shake slightly at the thought. “I have special salves at my home that I could apply. Unfortunately, none are with me.” He says, regretting not taking more with him. If he had known...

The child- that sweet cousin of his, beams at him. “That’s fine! It’s surprising you even have a salve for this. I thought it’d never heal. Kind of made peace for it to sting a little, every once in a while.” Alyastar exclaims.

And- and didn’t that sound heartbreaking?

He took her by the arms looking firmly in her eyes, with a promise on his lips.“They will heal.” He will make sure so.

“Thank you cousin Elrond. Since there’s nothing you can do-” for now, Elrond vows. “-can we move to Laimandir?”

She already puts clothes on and Elrond reluctantly lets go of her, grimly steeling himself for another set of bruises.

He’s not disappointed. He wished he was.

So many cuts to the flesh.

“And these? How did you come to these?” He asks Laimandir softly.

Amras in the back hugs both children, Aþumon and Alyastar, placing them on another bed, hugging them tightly, as all observe the horrible scars they’re seeing on Laimandir.

The children look unfazed, used to the scars Elrond would never wish upon anyone to know, much less children.

Laimandir looks at him, something proud, something fiery and brave, like a solider, that makes his guts churn. “I got caught more often.” He said simply. It says nothing much, but he does not have hunched shoulders, not covering  in shame. Rather he held his head high, and there is little to no regrets about these scars he can see.

“You did something many would cover from.” Alyastar says from Amras’s side.

“We wouldn’t have all made it, if it was not for Laimandir.” Faelnor says adds with a smile of her own.

“And speaks well too. Who knew Laimandir could deliver such a powerful speech?” Aþumon says teasingly.

“Even when they beaten him down, he never covered.” Mírion says softly making Laimandir turn pink in bashfulness and something hammers in Elrond’s chest as realization sets in.

They're like soldiers. Or prisoners.

And thus, more questions arose than answered. Alyastar and Laimandir bore the same scars inflicted by the same weapon. He traced the lines, committing them to memory. He could not treat them now, but he will.

The scars were painful to see, and when he looked underneath-

“Knives have been thrown at you, some lodged in your shoulders.” He says softly, hiding his inner turmoil. This wasn’t just a one time thing. It was a repeated wounding. Torture. A demonstrative one.

Alyastar grimaces from the side, as does Laimandir. They look at their siblings for support before deciding to speak 

“Just so you know for next time it happens, don’t pull the object out if it’s lodged inside you. I don’t think there’s anyone else I’ve used up so much blood replenishment on, as Laimandir, these horrible months.” Alyasar says with a lecturing voice.

“Yeah, I can still remember when you had to plug the wounds with cloth. I screamed a lot back then.” He looks haunted at that memory.

“A good thing too.” She says. “Shows you’re conscious. It’s commonly taken as a good sign on a battlefield, right?” She asks Elrond who-

“You’re quite right, little one. It’s one of the better options for those who go into the healing camps.” He says, giving out a tight smile. “Those who scream hold a lot of will to live, anyhow.” She nods, satisfied, like it was a common thing.

Maybe it was for the children. Just where had they lived?

“It means there’s something left to save.” She adds. Elrond cannot dispute that.

The children came from a battlefield. And there is little to say, unless Amrod came out from wherever he is, to explain it.

He examines Laimandir making sure there are no lingering complications Elrond could relieve, before letting him go. He feels heavier doing so. He holds no expectations as his eyes land on Faelnor, who came forward.

Elrond is once again reminded of the disparity of their wounds, as if they were all tortured, hurt all in different manner, some more prominent in intensity. Aþumon seemed to have a fight with some underwater creature, Alyastar and Laimandir seemed to be tortured in captivity, and Faelnor-

He looks at her, feels her nerves and can see the pain she went through in the past. Whoever tortured her, was crueler than Alyastar’s and Laimandir’s tormentor. Her scars are made purposely to mar her, and the scar left behind is cruel scribble, unreadable to him, but red and mocking. Her nerves are jumbled up, as if they were stretched to a painful degree, on her whole body, and Elrond has to fight his own gasp of horror, realizing it was agony done to the entirety of the body at the same time.

It does not hurt now, but he can see how the torture went by the clues, and it horrifies him. It was seen by the lesser extent on Laimandir, he realizes belatedly, remembering he also has something similar, now that he can identify it. A torture that could be devised by Sauron only, and his teaching passed down to his servants. He didn't expect for some of the practices to survive the passage of time, but apparently, he was wrong.

“...You’re not in pain anymore.” Faelnor blinks and nods to that. If this is second worst, Elrond is afraid to see Mírion.

But as a healer, he had to, and so he does. Faelnor goes off the bed, and Mírion takes her place.

“We told you.” The child says. “That these scars cannot be healed.”

“Be it as it may, there is no harm in trying to do so.” Elrond says back. Mírion sighs and takes his shirt off, letting Elrond examine the wounds.

He stops just by looking at the wound. It’s a burn mark, small on his shoulder, and as he touches it, his heart leaps.

He just stares for a while blankly, before he asks, as gently as possible.

“Is that a wound from dragon fire?” Maedhros and Amras tense at that, because what?

Admittedly, it was but a tiny graze, but no matter how small, the issue is, that it’s there.

Harry looks surprised. “You can tell?”

How did one get so close to a dragon to begin with?!

Aþumon just blinks and seeing their distress tries to soothe them. In a very non-effective way.

“It’s barely a graze. I mean, the bite from the Basilisk is more concerning. Besides, Ronya is all covered in dragon burns and scratches and he’s fine.”

Amras blinks.

“Ronya?”

Aþumon nods. “That’s our brother. Ronyangon”

Amras stills, Maedhros stills, even his father figure listening in behind the door, stills.

“An interesting name.” Elrond hums without skipping a beat. Honestly, he heard worse. Like that one, where someone with limited knowledge of sindarin named his child son of a foot. 

Ronyangon. Dragon chasing. He wasn’t sure if that was auspicious or unfortunate. Certainly inappropriate for those that lived through the horrors of dragons like his family, adoptive, by blood, both. But word for dragon was created after Amrod died. In fact, there are a lot of odd things that make no sense, now that he looks at the glimpses of some facts. The children are peredhel, just like him, his children and his mother. There is a part of them, that is undoubtedly mortal. And unless there was some hidden scandal between Tuor and Amrod who suddenly turned into a nís, they could not have been born here. Especially with how they very much confirmed to coming here less than a year ago. Did Amrod re-embody just like Glorfindel? Did Amrod re-embody, went back to Middle earth and decided not to engage with his family through ages?

So many questions. And the only one that coul gove an answer to them, for he doubts the children could, is currently not here.

It’s probably his nonchalance that gets them out of their stupor, Amras having a rather pained look on his face.

“Say my little niblings, do your names happen to be Amilessë or Ataressë?”

“Ataressë.” They say without skipping a beat.

Amras cringes at that. “I already suspected, for Amrod carries our mother’s naming sense.”

“Grandma?”

Amras tightly smiles, rather exasperatedly. “Indeed, do you want to know the name of your uncle? Curufin has been trying to bury that name for millenia.”

As Amras tells the rather unfortunate name of Curufin’s, Elrond looks over the injuries, he stops at one ugly gash that seemed like a tooth sunk in there and he contemplates just how close exactly, was he to that dragon. Or whatever Basilisk was. He traces his injuries, taking note of another scarring with writing that could be only one of mockery and then delves into the workings of his insides and sighs. He was very underweight compared to his siblings with just as horrible nerve damage as what Faelnor carried.

“Your injuries healed well, for they do not cause you any complications I can see.” Elrond says with a heavy heart. Truthfully, whoever the healer was, it was evident they did their very best. But the scars will forever remain. Or until re-embodiment if it ever came to pass.

Mírion slid off the bed, beelining towards his sibling before pausing. “What happens now?”

Apparently, it’s all Maglor needs to open the doors and call them for belated breakfast, for the examinations took long. Maglor, who emerged from behind the doors, and Amras take the children, as Maedhros and Elrond take a slower step, watching the much too small backs leaving for the table.

“Is that all you’ve discovered?”

“Uncle Amras has much to answer for.” Elrond says heavily. “Laimandir has lashes, whip lashes men often used to educate their children.”

Maedhros clenches his fists but does not speak letting him elaborate.

“And yet, he’s the only one to have them.”

His father whips his head at him, confused. “The children have a large disparity in their injuries. Some span their whole lives, and others start at 11, 15 and 17. Particularly Alyastar, Faelnor and Aþumon have no scars worth heightened attention, until these points. Aþumon’s scarring starts piling up at 11, Faelnor's at 15, while Alyastar's starts at 17. Blunt damage to the brain, slash mark across the chest, torture and very likely, a fight.”

“And the others?”

“That’s the thing. If I only met Laimandir and Mírion...” Elrond shook his head. “I would not permit them to stay with uncle Amrod. What was done to them- it was nothing short of torment, and it started by the time they were two.” He’d have declared what his other uncles feared(Amrod turning as wicked as them, but his hand turning towards his own sons) but-

“I’m of the belief they lived separately. They were without doubt, facing difficult times and probably could not care for all children perhaps.”

Maedhros nodded, though it pained him so. “We know not of the struggle he may have faced.”

“It would explain the differences between them, and it could be, perhaps, the reason they are here. Their previous guardians not being fit and Amrod discovering so, or getting away from what was probably a mannish war.”

He looks sharply at him. “Are you sure?”

“They show signs, surely you can see it. And Alyastar’s words cannot be ignored. Mannish wars also happen to be frequent enough it would explain why they know so much, probably getting roped into the conflict.” A terrible thing, honestly.

They arrive to the diner table with one person missing.

Maedhros frowns. “Where’s Caranthir?”

“There was a visitor that wanted to meet urgently.” Celebrimbor said as he took the seat besides his father.

Fëanor also frowned. “We have locked up gates, what could be so important?”

________________________________________

Bill isn’t one to give up, and even though they kept refusing him, it seemed they mellowed at the sight of his small statue. It was rather refreshing to not be the tallest one of the people for once. His unicorn was safe distance away, hiding behind the trees, probably strolling around until it’s once again called. They did not appreciate crowded places. With people, to be specific.

Another elf, one he was sure held authority, came forward after a while, a rather withering glare on his face. He glared at the guards so fiercely they made themselves scarce at once.

“We have closed the gates. Surely, you are well informed that in those situations, only urgent messages may come through?”

Poison seemed to seep from these words. Much like- “You remind me of my brother.” He says instead of explaining. He can’t help it, the resemblance is uncanny.

The elf comes forward and Bill can see all his features and yes, he even looks like his brother. He nailed the unimpressed stare anyhow.

“Indeed, flattery is not one of your finest skills I see.” It’s a whole Percy packaging. “But I’m afraid we cannot grant you a meeting this time. We are under a family crisis.”Aren’t we all?

The figure then turned around ready to leave and wow, what a prickly guy, he’s like a goblin too.

“I know not of your issue, but I’m only here to pick up my wayward siblings.” The figure freezes. “I will leave at once with them.” There’s a reaction.

Bill takes off his hood, letting his bright red hair fall down. His only eye watches the elf freeze in shock and... recognition. Of course. He and his siblings look alike after all. Hope blooms in his chest.

“My name is Alacarnassë. Given your reaction, you must have seen my siblings yes? I’m here to take them home.”

It’s silent, for a few breaths. But then the elf finally stammers out:

“What?”

Concerning gold

Thanks to Nicholas Flamel and the philosopher stone, the gold amount has been rising for 600+ years. Which means the cost of gold significantly lowered down due to it’s abundance. That said, it’s still a luxury item and Weasley family watches are not all made from gold. Maybe plated, if we stretch it, but either very mixed, with thin golden layer or downright different metal. Moringotto still steals them.

No one knows why Moringotto stays with them considering the lack of a large number of shinies. And yes, it was Amrod who named it that way, because he was very unimpressed by the mess the creature left behind. Especially since it stole things from his work room! *maniacal cackle*

Elrond’s got concerns

Don’t get him wrong, he’s happy to see children in the vicinity of feanorians because nothing heals better than children but WHO TF HURT THEM.

And he also is more insightful about what they are <_<.

Fun fact, if the doctor knows how you came to an injury it’s easier to help you with it. So better than lying, no matter how embarrassing it is, just come clean.

Dragon burns

Some other dragon worker: Quick, call the healers! Weasley has been scorched.

Charlie: No!

Worker: What?

Charlie: I will keep baby Norberta’s first great fire close to my heart. Literally.

Worker: ಠ_ಠ

Also:

Harry after GOF: Hey can you heal my dragon burn-

Charlie: No Harry, this is an object of pride. You MUST KEEP it.

Harry: Uh...okay...

Celegorm’s antics

Yes, he did smuggle highly questionable animals to their doorstep. The bear one was the most horrible one to date. It even beat the porcupine. Feanorian faction is keeping a whole list of what Celegorm took in.

“What is it this time?” -Any well-seasoned Feanorian.

They’re honestly surprised Celegorm isn’t the one with elflings tbh.

Gnomes otherwise called the different kind of moles of the Weasley burrow

Yes, they took them, because Amrod did not spend XX years teaching them how to swear in Quenya only to have them disappear-

Btw, they look like this, Hogwarts Legacy design:

Cockatrice exists in HP

And so does sheep that are used for potions. Can you imagine the profit though? Growing their wool and all the modification that they can use-

Seers

Harry and many others did use some divination and it’s implied they do work in some way, but only some people are taken as real seers.

So it’s the same with elves here. They all can see feel, foretell something like a sixth sense, but Elrond, Galadriel, and now even Ron are just more. One of the deciding factors in being truly gifted in foresight is to have them frequently, and the amount of detail inside them.

If you have one prophetic dream in XX years, it’s not enough to be called a foreteller.

If you have one, once a week or month, premonitions, and things you say somehow come true, that makes you a seer.  Elrond and Galadriel can tell like hours before someone comes or when something is going to become bad, long before others do. You guess something? Comes true. You make an offhand comment? Becomes useful to them later. Being a seer literally becomes a part of their lifestyle.

Trelawney infuriates me in a way, because she’s such a fraud-like thing, but see, a lot of things she said actually came true, without being in trance. Trelawney was a seer, but she forced it so much she accidentally mixed in false foresights, which was why she was thought as a fraud. If she toned it down though...

Injuries

Wizards are unhinged, what can I say?

“Damn it, I broke my nose again, Hannah-”

“Say no more- Episkey.”

*graphic cracking to set the nose back.*

Wizarding motto: If you can’t regrow it, then you can panic.

(prompt: Luna uses episkey on Harry, but it’s overpowered and fixes his whole body from Dudley and Durselys and he becomes tall lanky dude out of nowhere-)

Bad-post-scar-jokes

They are very matter of fact with their scars, either something to be proud of, or just another chapter of life. They’re not particularly ashamed of them or make a big deal out of them. Partly because all knew from, everyone had them. It was also a proof of who joined the war and who didn’t. And they did live a year and a half just together, all scarred and stuff so it’s the norm.

Abuse scars and war scars are so different in their concept, in their heads I mean, especially in Harry and Neville’s heads. Abuse scars sort of feel like their faults, even if they decisively are NOT, but war scars are a proof of their bravery, something they sort of feel like being proud of. Both are F up tho.

Prison

There’s no word for detention so they got the closest equivalent. Elves aren’t the happiest bunch rn.

Why I placed Hermione above Neville

I decided so, because Bellatrix is the kind of horror no one deserves, and everyone but Voldemort pales to her cruelty. Even the Carrows, because they were a bit lighter trying to preserve ‘purebloods’ but if Bellatrix was in charge of the school, half of them would be tortured to insanity, hence why Hemrione in terms of torture, comes above Carrows.

War

Wizarding world is not that big, so their war scale was not that small to be called just a scuffle, let’s say definitely around a thousand, all creatures accounted with. I go by wiki, what can I say? But we have to remember all the centaurs and house-elves, werewolves and giants that also joined so...

Yeah, not only were the children born in war times, but also participated in the war efforts and the deciding battle...yikes.

Chapter Text

Well, there’s no question about his identity at least. Caranthir thinks grimly, as he looks at the child (he’s not even half a century yet!) He was- well, Caranthir feels cheated, because they were waiting for an adult.

He looks a lot, like a lot, like Russo to not be related. To the point Russo could claim him as his and he would accept it as a fact. Apparently, he was the older brother that was sent out to get his younger siblings. Whoever thought sending one of their children out into the wilderness to here, alone, needs a good damn reason prepared, once they meet.

“Alacarnassë." He greeted. "We expected you-” He’s not sure how to finish that. Taller, older, definitely not this young at the very least.

Besides that, what has happened to his face?  Eye?

The child beams at him. “Yes, we exchanged letters, did we not? Thank you for looking after my siblings.”

“It was no trouble although their appearance was unexpected.” Caranthir says. “Are you alone?” Just to be sure, he looks around, searching for an adult nearby, which...there wasn't any.

The child has the audacity to nod like it was no big deal to be out alone. “Just me and Minrassë.”

“Your steed I presume. We have stables if your horse is in the need.” Caranthir craned his neck only to see it void of any horse.

Alacarnassë shook his head. “Minrassë isn’t a stable animal. She’ll come when I call.” A curious name. One horn. Alacarnassë looks expectantly at Caranthir. “My siblings?” He asks, finally a hint of anxiety seeping through.

“At the breakfast table. In fact, won’t you join us?” He invites him. He really hopes he says yes to spare them the convincing battle.

The child beams before looking thoughtful. “Well, I guess breakfast before we leave won’t be so bad.”

Oh, you sweet summer child. There’s no way you’re leaving without adult supervision. If at all.

Caranthir grimaced at that thought. Maglor was already getting attached to a kidnapping degree. He didn't need to add fuel to that.

“Follow me then, the- your siblings were looking forward for your arrival.”

Alacarnassë did so and he couldn’t help but remark about his demeanor that held a very, very striking similarity to Maedhros, almost that makes him wonder...

“Do you truly happen to be the eldest of your family?” Just to be sure.

“Yes. The eldest and all responsibilities that come with it.” The child sighs like he was an adult elf coming for his younger siblings. “Are they alright?”

Except for the injuries they have? Caranthir belatedly realizes his plan on quizzing the ‘older’ elf went moot. This was not the nephew he was promised.

“They are alright.” He reassures him. “The cold did not hurt them despite being outside it for so long." Or so Celegorm claimed.

Alacarno nods he doesn't look surprised, but relaxes at the knowledge of them being safe.

As they walk Alacarnasë spoke up. “Do you happen to have hidden room or such?”

He blinks.

“We do...” Their father’s early paranoia contributed to it a lot, once setting feet on Middle Earth at least, for secret passages became a norm with the constant attacks from the Enemy.

“With secret traps too?” He further asks.

Caranthir...blinks. “What?” 

“Deadly ones?” The child adds, taking it as a yes, which it was not.

“No- I- there are no traps in the secret rooms. Especially deadly ones. What would we even use them for?” He couldn't help but put a bit of incredulousness at the idea of putting deadly traps in  hidden rooms. Those were set for escape after all, not confrontation.

He feels like he said something wrong because Alacarnassë sags in visible disappointment.

“Do you have at least elaborate way to open said passages?”

Caranthir can’t really tell. He wasn’t one to design them to begin with. “We have one hidden behind a library shelf.” He offers. “You can easily recognize it as all other shelves are placed symmetrically.” Though the vicious passages his brother and nephew managed to create in Middle Earth are a stuff of a legend.

Apparently, it wasn’t what he was looking for, as his nephew pursued his lips.

They fall into a contemplative silence and once they arrive, well.

Maedhros stares, and his eyes widen for a split second, before schooling into a fake calm facade Caranthir recognizes immediately. Contrary to his calm composure, Caranthir knows he’s panicking, seeing the very much blind eye of their newly arriving nephew. Or the entirety of the sheer youth of the child and...everything.

Others aren’t so courteous to pretend not to be shocked.

Curufin blinks. “Another one?”

“What’s wrong with your-” It’s a good thing Curufin has more tact than his brother, as he jabbed Celegorm just in time before he would ask a very inappropriate question.

Maglor looks the child over and coos, scooting over to the apparent new nephew. “And who might you be, little one? Are you lost, also?”

No, it’s the ‘adult’ that was meant to come for them, apparently, Caranthir snorts in his mind.

“Oh.” The child breathed, realization setting in. “You’re family.” He realized much sooner than other children did.

“Rather than another one.” Caranthir drawled, drawing attention from the rest of his family. “This is our nephew, Alacarnassë.” Everyone froze, dawning realization painting their faces.

“Or Alacarno, for family.” The child piped up, apparently accepting the newfound knowledge without a fuss.

Caranthir looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you a bit too accepting after knowing who we are?” Given how well it went the first time, as he heard form his brothers.

Alacarnassë shrugged. “Dad still holds a grudge.” He says meaningfully, earning himself a collection of Amrod’s siblings and father's wince. “But he does not want us to carry the anger over to ourselves. He’s against generational grudges. That, and binding promises of any kind and form.” Another wince. “Still, it does not stop for some of us to be furious over his manner of death.”

“Are you?” Inquired Fëanor quietly. “Angry for things that happened to my- to your father?”

 Alacarno sharply looks at him, considering.

“There was anger once, long ago.” Alacarno admits softly. “But I accepted things as they are. Tragedies are meant to happen in a strife. Besides, it is not me nor my anger that you have to resolve.”

And that was probably end of the discussion as Alacarno went to his siblings, all that hugged him with unhidden affection.

“You shaved off 50 years of my life when you didn’t turn up at breakfast.” Alacarnassë murmurs, pulling them close. “We’re going to fix up the wards a bit.” He also adds. “Just to be sure, you are all whole, right? No missing body parts?” Caranthir doubles over that questions. Who asks a question like that?

The children nodded. “Whole, we weren’t alone for long. Uncle Celegorm got us here after he found us.” Alyastar reassures him.

“Are we going home now?” Aþumon asks. Maglor twiches in alarm and so do others.

“After the belated breakfast, we will.” It sounds like a promise. They all look at each other, promising themselves that no, they are not leaving. Certainly not alone.

Amras comes forwards then, and the child’s eyes widen.

“You’re dad’s twin.” The Alacarno looks in thought before speaking again. “Uncle Amras if the stories dad told me are to believe, and together you make-”

“Ambarussa.” Amras finishes. “And you must be the eldest brother.” He says, others listening very intently.

Alacarnassë smiles. “I am! Thank you for looking after my siblings.”

Caranthir feels a headache coming from Maedhros’s, his father’s and Curufin’s heads, while Maglor looks a step away from declaring on keeping them all.

“Are you here alone?” Maedhros asks slowly.

Surely- He shoots Caranthir a look, who shakes his head.

“I came alone. My brother has to look after the others.”

Celebrimbor catches onto the word immediately. “Others?”

Alacarno nods. “The rest of our siblings. Though I believe Ronya to be somewhat responsible, with another brother of mine leaning to the stance of ‘joining the dark side’ I’m quite worried. It makes him functionally the only responsible left in the house and that scares me to a level.” Alacarno pauses. “We really should go right after breakfast.” He says now, even more firmly.

Wait.

Wait.

Caranthir clears his throat. “Just...how many of you are there?”

Alacarno doesn’t look phased one bit as he reveals an overwhelming number.

“There’s 12 of us. We make a whole brood.” He said proudly and cheerfully.

It’s enough to awaken a new kind of chaos broke out.

“Twelve-”

“12!”

“A whole dozen-”

“Born and bred.” Alacarno said proudly.

Everyone started speaking over each other. Mírion looked perplexed before tugging Maglor down and asking why there was so much fuss over their sheer numbers. He's far too gone absorbing the news so it's Maedhros who answers, if a bit tightly.

“Children- elflings, are a rare occurrence. And- well, there never had been recorded a birth of 12 elflings to one pair. Men, elven and both.”

“Speaking of which.” Curufin spoke loudly. “How old are you and your siblings?”

“We’re 18” “18” The five of them answered.

They looked at Alacarno who also answered with-

“28.”

Which was, well, extremely short timeline. Even Elwing and her twin brothers have a span of 5 years between birth.

To have 12 children in 10 years-

“Our youngest is 17.” Alacarno says.

Eleven then. Which sounds so much better.

Which means, someone insane decided to have children right after those five-

“Are you sure your mother was not a rabbit changer?” Celegorm choked. “There’s now way you just have 12 children out of nowhere.”

Alacarno cocks his head. “I though dad came from siblings of 7?”

Right.

Curufin looks totally bewildered. “Just because atto decided 7 is an ideal number of sons does not mean he should have followed his lead. Or take it as a challenge. And he certainly did not have us at once.” Because once it gets out everyone will speak about it for ages.

“No, no, by all means, he’s welcome to give me 12 grandchildren...” Fëanor says faintly.

“That leaves another 6 of you at your home, all younger than you... Do you have anyone else taking care of you?” Maedhros says, realizing an issue. A very BIG issue in fact.

Alacrnassë looks at him unflinchingly. His voice does not waver as he assures him of what sounds like a certainty. “We may be young, but being half elven makes us far more mature and independent than you may think. I’m without doubt worried about them, but not in a my-siblings-are-about-to-die without supervision.” Which means they have no one to look after them.

Elrond looks at Alacarnassë in unhidden incredulity.

“You cannot stay here then.” Maedhros summarizes. “For you have siblings to go back to.”

Alacarno nods. “Even if I fully trust them, I still need to go back. We all do.”

Elrond adopts a pinched look. “Atar, you seriously aren’t contemplating on letting them go.”

Into the wilderness? Alone???

“I understand your worry.” Alacarnassë said. “But we will be fine.”

Mírion seemed to catch onto that. “Or are you going to keep us here?” He asks with narrowed eyes.

“Uncle Celegorm told us we can leave whenever.” Faelnor adds.

Curufin shoots his brother a sharp look, who winces.

“I did say that, but there was a condition I'd keep you company if you decided so-”

“Exactly!” Maglor jumps, making everyone zero on him who seemed to wake up from the shock. “If them staying nor letting them go alone is a feasible choice, why not accompany them?”

And get to the other children. Caranthir said snidely. We know your underhanded methods Káno.

Maedhros seemed to also read between the lines, but instead of sighing, he adopted a thoughtful gaze.

“This may not be a bad idea. Of course, some will have to stay behind to inform others.” Caranthir immediately volunteered, if the perking and staring holes onto him was any indication. “Do you mind us accompanying you?”

Alacarnassë doesn’t seem bothered as he nods with a smile. “It’d make you our first visitors anyhow.”

“You don’t seem suspicious.” Maedhros exclaims. Contrary to his younger siblings Alacarnassë seemed rather friendly.

“It is of my belief I’d be in an advantage given my familiarity of our home and land.”

Maedhros blinks before double checking the meaning and the mild threat behind it.

“I will bear it in mind.” The subsequent smile he earn tells him he understood it right.

“Would you postpone leaving until the night? We want to prepare for our leave.” Maedhros offers.

Alacarnassë looks pensive, but nods. “We can, but no later than that. I promised to be back in a week-time.”

And that was that.

___________________________________

What Maedhros was looking at was a very big circle stationed in Araman. Their introductions done and over with, all that was left was to prepare to travel over what seemed like incredibly wast and deserted piece of Valinor.

“...You do not know a more detailed location to your home?” Curufin asked with a pinched look.

Forget exact location, can you even live in the everlasting cold?

“I do, but I cannot disclose it.” The their nephew shrugged.

“We could gauge the best way to get there.” Celebrimbor added after his brother.

Alacarnassë shook his head.“This is the best I can do.”

Something dawns to Elrond form the odd phrasing. “It is not that you won’t, but you cannot.” He stresses.

Everyone sharpens at that.

Alacarnassë nods. “Our house was made with protection in mind, no map can find the place and if you are taken as an unwelcome guest without a guide, you may wander in circles instead of finding us. Saying we're in Araman is as detailed as I can get.” He looks apologetic.

Celegorm whistled. “Never expected for someone to use these protections here.”

“Dad is paranoid, besides, there’s never telling on how people would react to, well, half-elven.” he cocks his head. “Which you already knew.” He says, noticing their lack of surprise. Rather, they look struck.

Elrond twitches at the reminder of the less friendly individuals he had to deal with. “We do look and feel different to elven. Freckles are things not seen among elven. Among other tells.” Freckles were peculiarities most seen on men and Hobbits.

The child nods, touching his face subconsciously. Alacarnassë could see Elrond twitching towards his blind eye.

“Are you a healer...” What was the family dynamic again? Ah. “Cousin Elrond?”

Elrond blinks in surprise, He was in no way dressed as a healer right now. “How did you notice?”

“You remind me of a healer, the kind that have a rope stashed away to keep patients in place.” Madam Pomfrey. Celebrimbor hackles a laugh and then a cough as he looks away from Elrond who straightens and glares at all that muster a smile.

“I do not have a rope stashed away.”

“Yes, indeed, he’s got a fishnet. After his star father you see.” Celerbimbor sagely as Elrond sends daggers through his gaze.

“That was one time-”

“And how exactly did uncle Maglor got on these shores?”

“Children.” Maedhros intoned because they were regardless of age. “We’re not here to speak of Elrond’s questionable medical practices-”

“Atar-”

“-but about whether there is a shorter way there.”

“This is the shortest I could find. That, and Minrassë can run without stopping when she sets her mind to it.”

“Your horse?” That apparently lives in the cold?

A nod.

“A resilient breed of a horse.”

“Horse-like.” The child corrects. “They’re different.” He insists as others look at him in question.

Right. Perhaps a crossbreed? Something else?

Celegorm smiles. “Well, hearing that, I’m looking forward to see her. She must be a very resilient animal.”

“Oh, she’s wonderful. Ronyangon’s favourite of the whole herd.”

Everyone froze.

“Ronyangon?”

____________________________________

They decided that Caranthir would stay behind, Amras would go tell his mother the news, while Fëanor left to Mandos’s halls, and Maedhros, Maglor, Curufin, Elrond, Celebrimbor, and Celegorm went with the children.

Only when they mounted their horses did they realize there are more issues to have besides Ronyangon’s distasteful name.“How did you initially plan to take your siblings? They hardly would fit one horse...”

“Well, they’d fit my bag. I recon if they can do that, horse would be no problem.” Alacarno said.

“What?” Balked Celegorm.

“How would that work?” Celebrimbor asked, he and his father exchanging glances, remembering the envelope they still could not crack.

Perhaps it is similar...

“I can show you! Lempenóna how about going into the bag..”

The children don’t look as enthusiastic.

“Well, since there are enough horses we don’t have to anymore...?” They say hopefully.

Alacarno does not budge. “I left a lot of snacks in there.” He said in a frank tone.

Aþumon caves first and jumps into the bag-

In a form of a small dog.

The rest of the children followed suit changing into small animals all jumping into the bag which Alacarnassë showed to them, filled with animal changed children. “We can go now.” He says with a smile to the dumbfounded crowd.

Elrond makes a small ‘huh’ sound. “That explains the familiarity I felt. I should have noticed earlier.”

“You think?” Celebrimbor hissed.

“I was under the assumption all half-elven felt that way.” he defends himself. How was he supposed to know?

“What about your blood-father?” Celebrimbor throws at him, voice hushed as they all scrambled to go to the woods to greet Alacarnassë’s mount.

“We always thought him the outlet.” Elrond answers just as quietly.

Apparently, the children were somewhere in the line, part Maia. There’s basically no question about it.

And just then were their lot was about to contemplate their new revelation-

Alacarnassë beams as he sees a white blur approaching. So white in fact, the snow paled to it.

“Minrassë! You came just in time.”

Truly, Celegorm would not have better words for what they see.

“What in Utumo is that? Is that a horn on it’s head?” 

Fëanor’s secret passages

Yes, Fëanor created the first secret passages. Not that it helped him much but...yeah.

Bill is very disappointed elves don’t have deadly catacombs.

Anti apparition wards at Hogwarts.

While it served as a defence against enemies, it was also installed for children that had a penchant of apparating accidentally and other accidental magics.

Bill’s chill pill

Bill is a very accepting guy, and welcoming too. Just don’t hurt children. Especially his sibs and anything he calls dibs on.

Unplottable:

In this Au, unplottable places existed in Arda in many forms, like Melian’s girdle, Gondolin, Lothlórien, and Imladris, so it’s no surprise it exists, but that it exists within Valinor, the safest place in Arda. *side eye*

Vanyar the friendly elves, despite evrything

They’re the most accepting schmucks. Like, despite seeming like being holier than thou, they're really living the accept and love all. They never met Men either but know Eru made them so they cannot be evil and union between the two species made directly by Eru must also be a gift by itself. It makes sense too, for two species made by Eru himself to infringe. They met only a few of them and they weren’t so bad...

They’re also romantics, so when others are looking at the political rapport others did in Lúthien’s quest, (Celegorm, Finrod, Curufin) they’re like: Oh, how romantic!

They believe the Valar, and believe in the Gift of Men because they never experienced or saw how sometimes both of their existences are in some way a curse. Which means majority of Vanyar have no prejudice to half-elven whatsoever.

Aka, they’re sort of dummies that live in Valinor for a reason.

Though honestly, they can come off rather insensitive or arrogant at times, but it’s their lack of knowledge rather than genuinely being dicks. NOT because they’re bad people. Just sheltered.

Many questionable elves are facing problems trying to justify all their shit and the Vanyar looking sort of...sad? Pitying? Like, refusing to help someone is such a heartbreaking think to do... right? Should you not extend a helping hand either way? *Thingol inching away from the Vanyar*

As for the others...Yikes. Let’s not watch the Sindar for the peace of our mind. *aggressive side eye*

Earendil the half-man half-elven 50/50 100%

Due to him being the only half elf with no maia ancestry to speak of, he’s taken as the ‘odd’ one of the bunch. He’s unintentionally the black sheep of the Peredhel. Tuor is glad he turned out to be a normal kid with all these wild stories others come up with.

Chapter Text

They leave Formenos in a number of 13 plus their horses and Huan. It took a long time to disembark as Celegorm got a bit too much invested in the not-quite horse. The quintuplets were asleep, as Alacarno led them to their home.

Celegorm was meanwhile studying the mysterious animal.

First of all, the unicorn, which it was named aptly after, looked like it came directly from Nahar’s stock, Orome’s trusty steed, though it did not explain the horn. It’s coat was so white, freshly fallen snow paled to it, and the hooves were distinctly golden, not the same way Nahar’s are, Celegorm would know, gleaming the colour of the metal, without the need of light to show it’s likeness to it.

And, of course, then there was the white horn.

Something they naturally grew, apparently.

And showed the same behaviour as antlers, if the children’s words about the horse that wasn't a horse, were to be believed.

“Horns don’t shed.” Celegorm stresses. "Antlers do."

“This one does. They’re special like that.” Alacarno says, patting the unicorn who preens at that.

“There are more of them?”

“They’re a species, and we have a whole herd under our care.” Alacarno answers as they ride in the front. “They’re peaceful kind.”

“With that horn?” Celegorm looked dubious.

“Well, unless you mean serious harm.” Amends the eldest of Amrod’s children. “But that doesn’t happen often. There aren’t many who want to be piked by that," he gestures at the horn ,"and they aren’t generally attacked.”

“What about their diets? How much do they differ from horses? How fast are they?” Celegorm hurls another question.

Alacarno cocks his head but shakes his head then. “I think you’d like to meet my brother. Ronyangon. He specializes in animal care, particularly of a reptile variety but he loves all of them. As for the unicorns… well, they are strictly herbivores, as in, plants only. It’s said they’d rather starve than eat anything with a drop of blood or darkness within in it.”

Celegorm looked intrigued and very much eager to pick out all the information about unicorns from his nephews, but Maedhros decided to pick the elephant in the room first. “Is Ronyangon a name picked by my brother?” He interjects.

Alacarno refocused on Maedhros, while Celegorm, seeing that he will have no answers, starts speaking quietly to the unicorn.

“Father did, yes, it’s quite a fitting name.” Alacarnasse nodded.

Now, what was that supposed to mean?

“Chaser of dragons…?”

Alacarno nodded noncomiccaly.

“Among other things.”

What?

Alacarno looks rueful. “He has a penchant for chasing dangerous animas. The more dangerous, the more likely is he to look after them.” He...could see the allusion but there was a niggling feeling it wasn't exactly what Alacarno meant.

“Amrod let him?” Maedhros couldn’t fathom letting his own children go to war until they were grown. And event then, he had a hard time not having them in his sight. But there was evidence the children were involved in war and dragons were sometimes still seen. It was possible Alacarno got to meet those dragons then. Not in the greatness of Ancalagon, but their lesser intelligent offspring roamed Middle Earth still and he wouldn’t put it past some men to try to weaponize them.

“Well… not as much as let him, but he wasn’t one to be stopped. The best we could do was equip him the best way we could, so he wouldn’t come back to us all crispy.” A memory of young Celegorm running off to join Oromë appeared in his mind. Back then, when their father realized there’s no changing his mind, he made him the best bow and daggers with a letter from their mother to come back every now and then.

If we cannot change his mind, at least he should not walk the woods with mediocre tools.’ Feanor scoffed back then.

“Does he also have scars?” Elrond asks quietly. Given the pattern, it was highly possible.

“He would say he has beautiful marks.” Maedhros raises his eyebrows looking at Celegorm who was engrossed speaking to the unicorn.

“He sounds like he loves his scars he gained. He reminds me of someone.” Celegorm didn’t even look up from the accusation.

Alacarnasse nods. “They do seem similar. Attitude wise. Though talking to animals would be a skill he would have loved to have.”

That does gain Celegorm’s attention. He perks up in fact, his eyes shining with eagerness. “I could teach him. It is hardly a skill gained, as much as taught.”

“Ronyangon would be overjoyed to hear so.” Alacarno's eyes focus on the road. He takes out a a round object that on one side looked like a sundial but it’s arms were at the centre, and it moved by itself while the other was a compass used by sailors. He watched it and nodded, pointing at a direction it showed him. “Here, we’ll go here and then from here, straight way to our home.” He points at various points.

Maedhros nodded. Celebrimbor meanwhile managed to sneak up to them, his eyes glued on the newly shown object.

“It’s a beautiful compass.” Celebrimbor commented from behind, getting closer with his horse, interest spiking.

“It’s a clock actually. Everyone’s got one at seventeen.” He closed it to show them. Maedhros took it from the side and passed it to Celebrimbor who fell back to study the object with a thanking smile.

“Everyone?” Maedhros asks.

“It’s an coming of age gift.”

Coming-

Huh?

What?

“Apologies, but you do not seem grown to me.” Maedhros said carefully.

Alacarno did not seem offended. “We do not.” He nods. “But for mortals, 17 is the age of adulthood and while we stay children still, it is a custom to gift us those.”

“Compasses?”

“Clocks. Devices to tell the time.” Alacarno corrects them.

Celegorm looked puzzled. “Can you not tell the time by the sun’s position?”

“It is more detailed. And the symbolism of ‘time’ coming to us is also a reason why we are given those.”

“It must be an important object then.” He stressed, reminding his brother and nephew that were riding behind them, the object is not something to be thoughtlessly dismantled. Seeing the disheartened look of his nephew, Celebrimbor, he knew he was heard.

“It is,” Alacarno nods. “It’s made in a way to characterize us. Like my runes and compass for interest in exploration. My brothers have their own kind of customized clocks.”

“Even your siblings?”

“Of course, they may have them on their body, they can show you once we take a break?” He offers. Maedhros nods trying to remember if they had any of those devices on body.

Celebrimbor clears his throat from behind. The two of them look at him in question.

“I apologize for interrupting, but I cannot help but overhear… those are runes?” Celebrimbor’s interest was piqued. Curufin, who was following close behind looks about to ask his own questions.

Maedhros recognized the gleam in Alacarno's eyes, who seemed as eager to share, and wisely fell back as Alacarno got hobbled by his nephew on one side and Curufin on the other. The usurpation of Celegorm’s place was rather violent as Curufin pushed him out with a horse infamous for kicking his opponent. Celegorm looked offended, grumbling but letting them chat on semantics of runes.

Only Maglor could very well see that Celegorm did not step back empty-handed, having the particular bag filled with animal changed elflings with him.

Maglor followed his younger brother, staring at him intently.

Celegorm knew better than pretend to be innocent, or fight an elf that was too stubborn to die.

“They’re asleep.” He informs him, before he could do any hostile takeover.

Maglor’s eyes soften. “Travelling would exhaust many.” Alacarno seemed rather determined not to stop until the sun went down. Thankfully, they managed to sneak many breaks for the elfling, before his legs went numb. He was clearly not a frequent rider and riding for a long time tended to make legs wobbly. Nevertheless, his stamina and determination was admirable.

Celegorm opened the bag and Maglor peeked in with a coo. They were all curled up in each other, almost forming a knot by how they were tangled together, fur and feathers meshing together. Celegorm lets out his own coo. Young animals were a personal weakness of his. Hence his younger self poaching some kits and bringing them home despite his family’s protests.

“We should wake them up later, for dinner.” Maglor said, his hand going into it, poking one of the furry animals. It stirred and mover, revealing Faelnor baby otter head. She sniffed Maglor’s hand and then sneezed into it before burying herself into the pile once again.

Maglor inaudibly opened his mouth and Celegorm just barely manages to put his hand over Maglor’s mouth.

“We still need our hearing Káno.”

And yes, was he immensely jealous.

____________________________________________

The road was suspiciously getting cleaner. In fact, it could be said a path was opening before them. It wasn’t noticeable first, but the longer they walked, the more visible the path was. It felt like a space between the trees was enlargened instead of pawed, almost in an outstretched way. While the way the road was clean was a welcome change to the steep forests, it still struck Maedhors as odd. No one walked this way after all, towards Araman no less, and any pathway made, during their march to Middle Earth has been long erased by the passage of time.

He looked over Celegorm, who passed the elfling bag he managed to snag to Maglor, in favour to looking uneasy himself.

“This is an...interesting road.” Celegorm decided to point out finally.

It was surprising there was a road at all.

Alacarnassë nodded. “Our dad made it so traveling would be easier and less time consuming. That’s how I got here so fast.” Maedhros could see it, it was a clean road, with no bumps, making riding so much easier, but-

“How was it made?” Because it felt unnatural. “Were there other elves helping?” If so, why was the information not leaked already?

Alacarno shook his head. “No, you’re like, the only other elves we know. I doubt dad would hire people to do it, with all the secrecy around. This is enchantment.”

Maedhros blinks. “Enchantment?”

Alacarno nods. “Dad created spaces in-between. Imagine honey, cheese or piece of metal stretching to be wider. With correct runes, you can stretch the wedge from here to here,” Alacarno pointed at the corners of the path. “to make more space. The result is a little bit lower positioned, but also flatter path. That, and he put an unnoticeable enchantment so those that are not familiar or are not looking for this path specifically, cannot walk it.”

A very unfriendly design made by their brother truly.

“We did took longer to recognize the path.” Maedhros admits, as he remembers their confusion as they went through the forest with no recognition up until they realized this was a very poorly kept road, of the quality of paths that were forgotten and made by mortals that age made disappear.

Poor Celegorm looked most unsettled.

“This must have been a complex work.”

“Dad made an effort.”

The sun was going down as they spoke, and Maedhros put a hand on Alacarno’s shoulder. Alacarno looked at him in question.

“It is nearing dark already, we should take a break and prepare ourselves for the night.”

Alacarno looked about to protest, but one look at the setting sun made him relent.

“We can go early in the morning instead.” Maedhros offers.

The child grimaces. “My siblings don’t wake easily. Besides, they can stay animals for so long before they become fed up with it.”

Maedhros’s lips turn up. “We have enough horses to fit one child on it, there is nothing to worry in that aspect if they decide to end their animal transformation.” As it seemed a decision was made, he signaled his siblings, son and nephew, it was time to rest and prepare a supper.

Celegorm came forward, looking farther, where Araman was.

“We might have to take some wood so we can make fires. Araman is infamous for it’s lack of greens.” He muses. Or trees. Or anything living besides occasional white bears.

Maedhros nods. “We have spare ropes anyway, so we might as well as do it now to tie woods together.”

Alacarnassë blinked, before hesitantly speaking up. “Do we need to use wood to make a fire though?”

Maedhros looked questioningly at the elfling.

“What alternative do you suggest?”

“Well, we have parchment.”

The two brothers looked at each other, and then looked behind them where Curufin and his progeny were preparing for the night while also studying watch the child let them borrow.

“I...wouldn’t speak about burning parchment anywhere near my brother’s earshot." Maedhros frowned in distaste and grimace.

"Near any Noldor's earshot just to be safe.” Celegorm adds. "Though I agree with the sentiment some particular parchment should be burned out of existence."

The elfling looked affronted. “I never said we’re going to burn it. Just use it to make fire on it.”

The child was getting more and more confusing.

"...On...It?"

Alacarno blinks innocently. “What? You don’t do that?”

“Fire,” Maedhros starts, unknowing what to make out of this, “would burn through the parchment.”

"Not if you treat it right!"

Not if you treat-

Alacarnassë pursues his lips at their incredulous faces. “I think it’s better that I show you.”

And show, he did.

When everyone was settled down, and little light of the sun still could be felt, Alacarnassë took out his piece of parchment. Curufin gave it a scathing look, as the parchment did not have the elven quality to it. It was dark brown instead of properly cured white, has jagged edges with tears here and there and would be very much loathed by any scribe and loremaster worth their title.

Even Celebrimbor looked about to offer his own in his bags. If Caranthir was there, he might have even destroyed the paper out of his sight. Or have it rewritten on an elven-made parchment before destroying the original which he liked to do in the past when dealing with men and their horrible parchment making skills.

Elrond nodded at it in acceptance, as parchment of this quality was a norm among Men, in fact, the fact the elflings having access to parchment might be perhaps a good sign of their literacy, something rare among men. Perhaps, most likely, Amrod's wife being of the house of the Valiant contributed to their probable literacy.

The other children meanwhile woke up form their slumber, wasting no time to circle their elder brother as he started setting some things down. Mainly, a feather quill.

A feather quill. Without a nib too!

Amrod, just how poor are we talking about?!

Surprisingly, the lines were smooth and scratching nonexistent, showing just how much skill Alacarno had with using a...quill.

“What are you doing?” Faelnor asked.

“He’s making a campfire.” Answered Aþumon instead of Alacarno who was focused on drawing certain sticky writings and lines before he stopped.

“What’s this one mean?” Faelnor asks, intrigued, pointing at a small set of runes written on the side.

“Oh, it’s how you either start or put the runes down. There’s no need for anyone to burn their fingers trying to open it at latter date.” He looks haunted saying so. He puts the parchment on the ground, snaps his fingers and a blazing fire erupts form it, startling everyone.

Alacarno then looks at Maedhros with a proud smile. “This way, we don’t have to go foraging for wood.”

And well-

“How- how does that work? I've never seen anything like that!” Celebrimbor leapt at that. The parchment does not burn, and the fire does not grow beyond the initial size. It crackled differently than a regular fire would, but emitted warmth identical to one. It also lacked smell from the burning wood. It was easy to understand his excitement as it was achieved by the use of runes foreign to him.

“Before that,” Elrond interrupted them before they got into a heated conversation he knows they will not see the end of. ,“we need to eat first.”

As in, the children do.

_____________________________________________

By the time they were done with a helping of a delicious soup, another idea sparked their minds. There was nothing more bonding than stories told by fire, at least, that's what Celegorm believes.

“Well, now that we’re done, we have this tradition of telling campfire stories, should I start?” Celegorm gave them a wild smile, as he recounts a story of his hunts, which gain the interest of Mírion and Aþumon , while Curufin tells them his story of a certain dog on the loose in his workshop which gains a few laughs and few winces of sympathy.

“That is an over-exaggeration of an event.” Huffs Huan from the side which tells them just enough who the mysterious dog could be.

“Tell that to someone who didn’t have to clean up that mess.” Curufin hisses.

 Celebrimbor nodded solemnly. “The once symmetrical room never looked so off.”

“And whose fault it was in the first place?” Maglor joins in.

They all look pointedly at Celegorm.

“He was just an excited puppy!”

“Exactly. We keep those outside.” Curufin stresses, clearly not over it.

“But he was so cute back then! How could I not show him off?”

“You could have just not.” Retorted Curufin. “Besides, you think any animal is cute. Remember the Aye-aye?”

“I thought it looked like you when you don’t sleep for a full week. You can’t hate yourself.”

Curufin looked so murderous at that, even Celebrimbor inched away from his father. Celegorm grinned wildly at his brother, ready to balk it into the territory he knows the best.

“Now, no maiming in front of the children.” Maglor protested.

Maedhros looked pained at that. “No maiming at all.” He corrects his brother who looks at him puzzled as if saying: ‘Isn’t that the same thing?’

Celebrimbor looked at the bickering, fighting between fanning the flame and focusing on the children whom looked at the interaction with curiosity.

“And you? Do you have your own stories to tell at campfires?”

“We’re more like to tell made up stories than reminiscence. Comes with us being siblings and knowing all ridiculous things they do.”

“Not all.” Aþumon protests.

“Not all.” He acquiesces, “but enough.”

“Can you tell us one?”

Alacarnassë hums. “Well, one story comes to mind as we’re in the forest right now. It’s a pretty good one.”

Aþumon frowns. “I do want to sleep tonight though.”

“You think you can’t?” Alacarno looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“If you can’t, we can sic Faelnor on Alacarno, to exact revenge. You will be avenged for lost sleep.” Alyastar suggests. Curufin shares a look with Celegorm.

It’s really a question where they learned those words from.

Faelnor rolles her eyes. “Why do you use my as fix-all? And what do you think I’d do?”

“Set him on fire?” Mírion offers. Maedhros reels from that.

Set him-

“You did set our teacher on fire.” Mírion says pointedly looking at her.

“Oh I remember that. My dad owled me three times to make sure it wasn’t me.” Aþumon says. “Something about it being only a step better than ships.” Yikes, good thing Fëanor wasn’t here to hear it.

“Faelnor did what?” Alyastar looked shocked to discover so. Laimandir opens his mouth, gains a thoughtful look and does not look as surprised anymore.

Falenor looked unfazed as she said in a voice that betrayed nothing. “There’s no evidence to prove me guilty. Besides, while it was inherently wrong, the results are what matter.” Maedrhos stills, Maglor does too, and all gain very concerned glances.

Curufin-

Curufin  stares.

“Tell me I hallucinated a while ago.” Curufin begs because this was frighteningly close to what their father acts and that is a level of unhingedness no one needs to carry. Not even he was that identical.

“Setting someone on fire could have seriously hurt the person.” Elrond says softly. "It's geneally not nice thing to do."

Faelnor blinked. “What? No, the fire was specifically made not to burn flesh. Besides, if I already was trying to set someone on fire, it wouldn't be to be nice." Not...on point but...

At least she was not that far yet.

Alacarnassë claps his hands. “That said, I think we can move to the story now.”

Elrond looked not quite done, but he did step back to let Alacarno tell his story, something they regretted later.

Alacarnassë sat down with a serene look as he starts his story.

“When you look into the forest, it is but a little part of the entirety of it. What is behind the thing your eyes cannot reach is what you should fear, and long it is said to beware of what lays in the dark...”

In hindsight, they should have realized it would not be a heartwarming story from that sentence alone.

And so Alacarno tells the gritting story in which they got a distinct feeling... will not end well. Curufin and Celegrom already started shifting realizing it's one of those morbid storied men give to intsill fear instead of reassurance.

It was about a small adventuring party, exploring a part of a forest per request, and they stumbled upon an abandoned crypt, left by men many years ago. It was where they should have stopped, but their greed overcome their senses, and so they marched inside, unknowing of the danger lying ahead.

They encountered many dangerous things that thinned their numbers, like a type of bird called Fwoopers, who contrary to their silly names, sang a part of the party to insanity, in which they slaughtered each other by rocks, thinking the other an enemy.

Another was a horrible trial surrounded by stone statures, riddled with questions that were later all guessed wrongly, because their more skilled and knowledgeable friends died before, which awakened the statues and ate a few of them taking them as an offering.

The last thing was relatively easy, and for a second they thought the story over, but they were mistaken. The adventurers that survived didn’t get much better in the forest, something unleashing to track them, as they forgot to seal the exits. The treasure they stole ended up everywhere and some kind of Thing hunts after them. Only one survived, causing the Thing to never get rest and it is said to roam the forest in search of it’s stolen treasure, killing any and every person in it’s view, trying to check if they have their treasure.

“And even now, it still roams for the hidden adventurer, taking every other person as a meal. Who knows, it may roam still in these woods, unknowing of the adventurer’s fate and of it’s treasure’s whereabouts.” Alacarnasse ends the story there.

It’s very quiet when he finishes.

“I hope you liked the story.” Alacarnassë says rather cheerfully which none of the elves could quite share.

Aþumon groaned. “I knew he’d do that. There goes my sleep.” He looked a shade paler too.

“You care about sleep? I think my heart is going to run away by itself.” Laimiandir muttered.

When later questioned, Alacarnassë has the gall to look all innocent and confused.

“Are stories not made for carrying warnings and messages?” He said, completely guileless.

______________________________________

Amrod stands before his father. He’s not prepared to meet him, but fate gives him little choice in the matter.

He decides decking his dad with his fist now is as good time as any.

He certainly doesn’t hold back.

So much for being over it.

Unicorn horn:

Idk, I don’t think unicorns would lived long with the horn demand if they did not shed them. Nahars is Oromë's shiney steed. Is not, actually, taller than Abraxans, those are tall as f-(Just- Did you see  how gigantic they are-)

Picture of a baby otter:

YOU HAVE TO BOOP THAT.

The story

Fwoopers: canonically, for a dumb name, they do a really sing a person to inanity, so...

The Thing: It’s either a dementor or a lethifold

The message: Careful of what you do and decide

Animal called Aye aye, Aka Curufin pulling an all-nighter for a few days

Paper and parchment

Magical people keep parchment for the same reason elves do, instead of paper, and it's because of their longevity. Paper is actually understudied compared to parchment in Valinor, because it can't withstand the passage of time as well as parchment. So magical/muggle world paper is superior to the paper prototype elves made, but elveb parchment is superior to human papers.

Chapter Text

Ron wakes up from his nightmare to a softly cracking fire and their distant, but also adopted cousin Elrond keeping watch. The dream is nothing new, but it chills his spine, every time the memory resurfaces in the form of a nightmare.

And it is not the fear of hurt nor spiders that makes him freeze slack in his mind. No, it’s just him, and his inability to do anything.

Hermione’s screams are no less heard behind the wall which he can’t climb nor break, and there stands him, unable to do anything but hear as she suffers. There is no greater feeling of powerlessness than this.

And then, perhaps the most terrifying end to that nightmare-

It’s the silence. It’s haunting, no less than the screams.

It’s where his dreams end and he wakes up all sweaty, his breath is uneven as if he flown a whole game of quidditch. It takes only a few seconds to shuffle through the makeshift bed and find and touch the small chubby features of his sister. He shouldn’t be feeling the relief he does now, but nightmares, however improbable to happen, are still haunting to him.

He checks her pulse and healthy glow in the moon’s glow. He’s so sweaty that he opts to leave the tent, and it’s where his cousin, Elrond, makes eye contact with him, cocks his head in consideration before gesturing to sit beside him. Ron goes sit right next to him, staring into the fire. There is something comforting, about having someone bigger to be with them.

“You’ve not slept well.” Elrond takes a guess, and Ron- well, there’s no use pretending to what was obvious. There was tiredness creeping on him from the bad dream along with tension in his shoulders and there was no hiding it with a healer with thousands of years of experience.

Instead, Ron leaned closer to the fire, craving the warmth. There is something about the fire, besides the allusion to bravery, that soothes him.

“Is there something bothering you?” Elrond asks him.

Ron snorts and at the raised brow of his cousin, Ron shakes his head and keeps his eyes glued to the flame. It dances before his eyes, as Ron comes up with an answer.

“I guess the lack of tea.” Ron answers. Mom. Tea was always a go to, when things were bad.

It was something they Ron didn’t appreciate until he came to miss it during their escapades with the horcruxes. The warmth of the drink, the taste of herbs or tea leaves left a nice, calm feeling seep into his body.

Elrond does not seem phased. “Drink is a welcome tool to alleviate uneasiness. Should I make some?” He deduces correctly, moving to his bag.

He thinks about it, finally deciding to accept the offer. “Jasmine tea?” He asks hopefully. 

Elrond nods pulling out a bag of loose leaves.. They’re quiet while the water boils on the artificially made fire.

Only when Elrond starts putting the leaves into the teapot does he react. “Can I have the leaves put into the cup instead?”

Elrond blinks in surprise. “You do not need to filter it?”

Ah, it was very much same with Hermione and Harry now that he thinks about it. They too, had often filtered tea through strainers or tea bags. Most of the wizarding families just drank the tea this way especially when it comes to jasmine tea. Hogwarts did it for general comfort but at homes when only family drank, this was a tradition.

“No, we don't usually filter it.” Ron answers, looking at his cousin expectantly. He gets the leaves into the cup like he requested.

After the water boils and both get tea cups in their hand.

They sit idly for a while, up until it cooled to a drinkable state. Ron breaks the silence first.

“It’s just dreams. But even there, I’m frozen in place.” He says into the quiet, sipping the hot liquid. He can’t move to help Hermione. He’s just standing there, agape as she screams and screams-

Ron shuts his eyes, inhaling the sweet herbal smell of the jasmine. It’s sweet even without any sweetener.

“Does it hurt in the dream?” Elrond inquires, his voice soft.

Ron shakes his head. “It doesn’t. It’s not me hurting in the first place. It’s just-even when I'm not the one being hurt, it’s hard to look at, anyway.” The jasmine seemed to soothe him, where the fire alone couldn’t.

“You fear not being able to help your siblings from whatever torment they’re facing in your dream.” Elrond takes a guess.

Ron doesn’t speak for a while. The fire cracks despite the lack of wood and Ron sighs.

“I’m just being stupid.” Valinor is meant to be safe. The war is over.

“Worrying is hardly a sign of foolishness.” Elrond shakes his head. “Many were plagued by uneasy dreams upon arriving, horrors of the past haunting them. But it is of my experience that offering a shoulder to hear out thy concerns helps.”

He probably didn’t mean it literally, but Ron took him on his word, leaning onto his cousin, who seemed much older and experienced than him. His presence was soothing, and his eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion coming back. They stay there, finishing their drinks and long after.

He stares at the tea leaves, swirling them absentmindedly. He wonders whether he’ll dream about the tea leaves. It was the best jasmine tea he ever tasted.

“It’s not a nightmare cousin Elrond.” He murmurs as sleep seems to overtake him. “It’s a memory.”

And past cannot be changed.  

He finally puts the cup down, closing his eyes, yielding to his tiredness.

The fire flutters in his vision before he succumbs to sleep, appearing in his dreams like a pair of phoenixes soaring into the sky.

His dreams are good ones, this time.

__________________________________

The magic made road makes their way to their home much easier. Alacarnassë can already see the outline of the forest, where his older relatives still see only white wilderness devoid of life.

After the first day, the children grew tired of being inside the bag, opting to ride with their relatives instead.

The last days were wild, admittedly, to Maedhros, finding out about Alacarno’s tendency to warn his siblings of things and dangers which would be endearing, if Alacarnassë did not deem it necessary to graphically describe the consequences of not following his advice.

The road wasn’t horrible, but it was rather daunting for the horses to go through all the cold and snow. Through all this, Minrassë, Alacarno’s steed, looked unfazed and rarely tired. It made sense how he got here so fact, if anything else did not make sense.

“It’s like Minrassë is what an elf is to men.” Celegorm throws off-hand. “What else can he do? Does rain even faze him? Does he walk on snow? Are births a rare occurrence?”

Alacarno though, looks considering, and actually answers thoughtfully. “They can actually, all of the above.”

Celegorm pauses. “Seriously.”

Mírion perks up. “That’s my godfather.”

“Past tense.” Faelnor adds, which Mírion gives her a wide betrayed look.

Curufin blinks.“Godfather?” What’s that?

Alyastar explains. “It’s a father named in case something happens to original parents, who is declared such before-” Powers? No, those were the Valar. “Eru.”

Curufin felt his mouth go dry. “He’s-” Dead. “Ah, I’m sorry.”

Faelnor pats his arm. “That’s okay. You couldn’t have known.”

Mírion nodded. “Most of those we knew are gone.” And by the looks Elrond and Celebrimbor exchanged it was not the good kind of gone.

Laimandir nodded. “Sometimes, gone in mind.” Thralls.

Maglor squeezed Lamiandir knowingly, who was with him on the horse. It started drawing up a bleak picture, Laimandir did. “Well, you’re here with us now, little ones. It’ll stay that way, I promise.”

Aþumon squints. “We have a dad though.”

“As a sibling of seven, he should know well enough about sharing.” Maglor answers without skipping a beat.

Besides them, Maedhros groans.

____________________________________________________

It takes them but a few days to reach where their territory should be.

During their travels, they found out there are bigger differences between their dad and his twin Amras, who is very talented when it comes to his arrow, even better than Celegorm. “If their subtle hair difference didn’t give them out, their skill in bow, would. I’ve yet to see my brother miss since he first hit the center.” He declares to the listening audience. They are nearby the wards now.

There is no more trees to be seen here, all white, without a single green to liven the place up, and Maedhros once again questions how they could live in these conditions. But eyes deceive and Alacarno is very much happy to remind them of their hiding measures Amrod had taken to keep them out of sight.

“It’s an illusory thing.” Alacarnassë explains as they are going near the ward lines. Or so he claims. All there is before them is snow and a way to an empty valley. “You will not see it until you step over the barrier line. Since we’re going with you, the wards will not reject you and next time you can come alone.”

The wards will not-

Elrond cleared his throat. “And pray tell, what would happen if someone tried to step over the wards without being initially invited?”

Alacarno hummed. “Well, dad said no to death traps which severely limited our choices,” What. “,but we came up with the idea of escalating the punishments given for attempts to trespass. Not to a fatal degree I assure you.” He hurried to say seeing their concerned gazes.

Concern did not lessen.

Curufn is the one to ask next. “So, what exactly would be the repercussions for it?”

Alacarno didn’t get to tell them as they approached their home. All their attention was swept by a wooden sign that had scribbled the following:

Trespass stranger with thy foot,

away you’ll be, gone for good.

Trespass prowler a second time,

you’ll be paying for thy crime

Trespass thrice, then do beware,

fates will have you, without care.

Alacarnassë blinked. “Was this here before?” Everyone threw him an incredulous look.

Curufin hummed coming closer to the sign and tracing the messy lines looking at them critically. “This is my brother’s chicken scrawl.” It looked hastily made but with the dried blood it looked very menacing. Too bad he couldn’t hide the odor of rat blood from Huan, otherwise it would be a perfect intimidation technique.

“It’s a cute threat.” comments Celegorm as he reads it.

“It still is a threat.” Snipes back Celebrimbor with a creased brow. “Should we be worried?”

“Undoubtedly a warning.” Commented Elrond.

Alacarnassë recovered from his puzzleness quickly. “Well, our dad’s plagiarized threat aside, since nothing’s going to happen, we’re just in front of the ward line! Here, we just go in.” He pats Minrassë who confidently walks into the white plains as if walking still forward-

Only to disappear into nothing.

They stand there speechless for a while.

“Well? Aren’t we going in?” Faelnor asks from Curufin’s place. That’s enough to get them speaking.

“Did Alacarno just disappear?!”

“How? How does that work?!”

“Where is he?!”

Faelnor from Curufin’s side pursued her lips at not being answered at.

“Give them time, going inside can feel- overwhelming.” Mírion shakes his head from Celebrimbor’s horse. “I remember the time, the twins showed me how to run into a wall to get to the station.” He was very, very, skeptical about going back then.

As the exclamation drags on without anyone moving forward, Elrond and Celebrimbor exchange an irritated look. They come to an agreement as they both walk forward with their horses.  It’s Elrond who walks inside first despite protests-

-and then walks out with a wry grin not even a minute later. “Young Alacano has not grown out of mischief yet. Come in, it’s not a one way road, he just wanted to unnerve you.”

Maedhros squints. “Is that a leaf on you?” Indeed, a single fresh green leaf was hanging from his hair. A green leaf uncharacteristic to Araman. Elrond nods mysteriously but also he looks a little awed as well, which is- well, unnerving to see actually. Maedhros’s and Maglor’s son rarely shown himself surprised at something so openly.

“It’s an overwhelming sight.” Elrond says seriously, “Unbelievable.” before falling back into invisibility. After a while, all of them found courage to go in, and it doesn't take them long to gasp at the deep green forests.

Thei clouded sight clears to them. It was like a fog made of thin cloth was pulled away from their eyes, showing what it was hiding. Admittedly, there shouldn't have been so much surprise, but every ward was different, and what was behind them was also unalike.

The plains were no longer painted white, void of anything else but snow and rocks, but it transformed into a rich grassland. The smell, taste, sight- it’s all changed from the freezing cold. In fact, the climate was rather warm too, their coats feeling almost unnecessary.

The entire valley changed from a bare white plain into a forest with large trees looming over them. They were decisively not mellyrn. The tall trees were green with reddish bark, and did not shine the same way typical to Vanyar’s favourite trees. Their majesty did not reflect on their shine but on the mighty size they excluded. In fact, Celegorm realizes, they are taller than the tall Mellyrn he knows. Thinner maybe, but taller. Arguably not a small feat to what looks like a cypress variety of a tree. Various smells attacked his nose at once. It was not the only thing that was unfamiliar.

From greens to animals. Everything seemed so much familiar and yet so different. Out of place. Out of the norm.

There were chirps of birds he’s never heard of before either.

“I’ve not known of this place.” Musters Huan. Well, Celegorm didn’t either and they were reembodied for quite some time. How did such a big place escape their notice? How did Amrod manage to hide this whole thing without someone accidentally stumbling?

It was surreal. It was like they stepped to another world, as they were instantly surrounded by the smell of forest, of fresh cypress and woods, of the wilderness and blooming flowers while on the other side there's unapologetic cold.

“Welcome to our territory.” Alacarnassë says from the side as they go father from the line. “Our house is a farther from here. It makes no sense to set our house so close to the entrance after all.” He adds, leading them through a path. While the path to their territory was straight, this one was more tangled making turns here and there. Celegorm instantly recognizes the familiar pattern that would make many get lost. Amras would be ecstatic their childhood tactics to avoid their tutors became a path to a home. 

“Those are not birds I ever heard before.” Celegorm comments.

“We’re very unusual.” Alacarno says without skipping a beat. “I suggest to be careful about animal and fruit that looks like one you know." He calls out, looking where Celebrimbor looked about to pluck a fruit shaped like a pear. "Don't eat that one. I guarantee you that you’ll be better off asking Laimandir whether it’s edible than trying out the effect yourself.” Laimandir perked up. “Oh, and stay away from what looks like willows.” He adds a an afterthought.

That made the little plant lover frown. “They can be friendly if you treat them fight.” Laimandir says. What exactly was he referring to?

Alacarnassë shakes his head. “Stay away from them.” He says, with greater seriousness that should not belong to a child.

“...And what would happen if we went closer to them?” Celebrimbor couldn’t help but ask. Because really, willows? "I mean, is there a real danger in trying to touch them?"

Alacarnassë looks at him. He opens his mouth, no doubt preparing another bad ending story only-

-for of  a sudden bear roar to break through the calm of the forest.

Celegorm and Curufin looked at each other. “The polar bear.” “White bear.” They said in unison.

Alacarnassë cocks his head and then he hears a sound of-

Huan barks. “There also are wolves. It might be a bad clash.”

An idea sparked in Alacarno's mind. "Huh, now that's quite handy! Since we caught the perfect timing, let me show you.” He gestured them to follow.

Maedhros looks confused. “Show what?”

“Why you should stay away from the willows. Let’s follow the sound. We can take a small detour.” The unicorn turned towards the way of the sound without prompting.

Celegorm raises his eyebrow. “I have no problems in going there. Though there are still wild beasts so you should keep distance, especially what seems-” He listens in. “At least a number of 6 wolves there. They might go for the easier prey.” Which is what they might perceive, but all of them had years under their belts to taking down wargs and werewolves.

“Oh no, there is nothing to worry about the wolves. They’re native to this place.” In a way. “Those bears tend to wander here once in a while. The wolves do not take well to foreign predators you see.” No they don’t.

But well, they go anyway, their curiousity overtaking them.

They arrive to the clearing. Celegorm stops them there taking no step further. “This distance is safest.”  He was not about to endanger children however closer he wanted to go himself. Besides it wasn’t like it was that far he couldn’t see the details form this distance.

Celebrimbor and Elrond put an arrow each in their bows just to be safe.

The wolves- Celegorm whistled. “It’s commendable how willing they are to defend their territory, but the bear is no easy opponent. And it looks like a losing battle too.” Maybe it’s the first time meeting a polar bear, but to take down a fully healthy bear, a white one especially would take far more wolves and desperation, than what they were displaying.

This inexperience, could cost them lives.

“That’s what I thought too the first time we went to see it with Ronyo.” Pipes up Aþumon.

Alacarno blinks. “Ronyo did what.”

“We watched nature take it’s course.” Mírion said.

“You mean we watched them being one o the smartest wolf pack to ever live.” Faelnor corrected him.

Celebrimbor frowns looking at the pack of wolves goading the bear. “It doesn’t look good for the wolves.”

“That’s what they want the bear to think. How close are they to the willows?” Alyastar asked. If he didn't say that, they would not have noticed them. There stood a couple of willows, unnaturally swaying in the-

Celegorm frowned. "But there's no wind."

“A few meters. It’s going  to happen anytime now.” Aþumon answers, not noticing Celegorms growing uneasy looking at the willows that apparently just dangled with no wind.

Curufin looks at Aþumon questioningly. “What’s about to happe-"

The willow tree suddenly moved, making a 360 degree turn with it’s crown, sweeping the much larger bear, sparing the wolves, who as if anticipating it, jumped out of the way. In fact, they all went a safe distance, and lied down.

 “This was premeditated.” Huan says out loud, coming to the same conclusion as others. Obviously. Some wolves completely abandoned their tension, relaxing and licking their wounds as if everything was over. They slouched into the grass watching it almost bored. The willows started thrashing the bear against each other. Mercieslly tearing the bear at places.

“Quite.” Alacarno agreed. “They know very well a bear of this size is a big challenge to take. But the knowledge of terrain-”

“Is always an advantage.” Maedhros finishes gravely as he looks at the sentient tree beating the fëa out of the animal while the nearby predators watched on.

“Forget about premeditated, what’s that tree? Is that a feral Ent?” Interrupts Curufin.

“A what? And aslo, no they’re not feral.” Laimandir protested. “They’re perfectly fine trees. They’re tame if you don’t bother them.” Curufin opens his moth but no sounds comes out, instead he just points his hands at- the scenery. Fine?! Tame?! Then what’s is that?!

Alacarno looks down at his brother keeping his grimace out of his face single eye blinking. “What’s their strength again?”

Laimandir shone at the question. “They’re strong enough to beat down even an horse with a rider by themselves to death, but when they’re in pairs or more, they can take turns slamming down on the body increasing things they could take down. Their roots communicate with each other you see.” He said with shining eyes.

The bear is dead, his broken carcass sliding off the bloodied branches.The wolves waste no time onto their hard(?) won meal. Celegorm looked intrigued while Curufin looked horrified by the display.

Alacarno smiled wanly. “You're truly gifted with plants, Laimandir.” Laimandir glows at the praise.

He then turns to the adult, his face serious.

“Stay away from the willows” He hisses in low tone.

No one objected to that advice.

Danger sign

Amrod lowkey wrote‘fuck around and find out’ lmao.

Concerning mellyrn

So, I browsed the web and it’s speculated mellyrn max size is around less than 200 feet high. Which is a lot. But makes sense.

Neville plated coast redwood, which current highest size in real world is 380ft.(named hyperion and still growing)

Plagitarism

Why yes, Amrod plagiarized the Gringotts ‘welcome’ signboard.

The alternative was:

‘Come on in, but we do not guarantee safety within this territory.’

Bill’s not shocked it’s a threat, but because it sounds good and Amord isn’t a genius when making poems... or anything to do with music admittedly.

Afterlife

Harry gets to talk to Sirius a bit, like a sec longer, and Sirius taught him a lesson of all in good fun and to take things lightly.

Joking about Sirius is a very Sirius thing to do and Harry decides to honour him.

Religion

So, wizards are most of the time, pagan as hell. It’s the contribution of ainur  descending on humans and refusing to offer explanation as they pair up with some person and leave their mortal descendants to walk the earth Eru created. So they have minor gods and The God/Magic that makes up the fabric of their universe.

Which is, in a way, just differently translated Eru.

And the ainur take it, because as long as they accept Eru is above them all, it should be acceptable... right?

Narration

Celegorm narrating the laws of nature and the jungle, like a bbc nature documentary-

Chapter Text

“It is, not the kind of greeting I expected. But I suppose, I should have expected that.” Grounds out Fëanor, the impact knocking him off balance down to the fallen leaves. Blood trails down his nose bent to a side, no doubt broken.

“I would have done without you appearing.” And that- that stung.

“I’m sure you would, while hiding your children like dirty secret you mean.” Fëanor instantly regrets his words as his youngest son goes rigid and immediately grabs him by the collar. “Amrod-”

“You know of my children.” Amrod hisses at him. It’s not a question. There’s a terseness in his features, worry, and fury at his children being discovered.

“You thought you could have hidden them forever?” He grounds out. “Such secrets cannot stay secret long.”

Though mystery of Gil-galad proved otherwise.

“Not forever, only until they safely adjusted to the environment.” Amrod defends himself. “Valinor is different from the place they lived earlier.”

“Until when?” Fëanor demands. “Were you planning to introduce them to us when they’re full grown? For us to miss their whole childhoods?”

“Until I make peace that I’ll inevitably have to share space with my father, who, if memory ails you, set me on FIRE.” Amrod snipes.

Fëanor stepped back, face contorting in a rare display of pain. “You... were not the only one I set on fire.”

“Is that seriously all you have to say?” Amrod hisses. “Why- of course, I should have expected it from you. Your madness followed you beyond grave, congratulations. What else? That I deserved to suffocate under the ashes of the fire you started?” He goes closer to him, eyes lit with unhidden anger. “There is one thing I can say to you. If it were not for my children, which you will tell me how you know about them, I would have gladly stayed with mother.”

What he didn’t expect was for his father to-

Huh. Now that's a one in a thousand year occurrence.

“You’re crying.” It sounded more insensitive than Amrod meant to. His father never cried. He did not disdain the action of it, but he rarely cried himself. Not in his childhood, nor adulthood or before anyone. He certainly did not shed a single tear nor screamed in horror, seeing him burn alive, anyhow.

He checked, minutes before dying. His father stood there, torch in hand, and what was the most insulting thing, as Amrod watched him, he saw him toss the said torch to another ship. He did not drop it, he literally continued on setting the other ships on fire. Like his inescapable death was not worth attention.

It was a messy situation, Fëanor with bloody broken nose, crying and Amrod-

It feels different, seeing someone he once blindly followed, shedding tears like an actual being, rather than a figure to walk behind.

“Father.” He said finally when Fëanor did not opt to speak. “Why are you here.”

“I... to apologize.”

Amrod replays their previous conversation, looking down at him dubiously. “You’ve made no progress in that regard.”

“I know.” Fëanor sniffled. “Apologies are... hard.”

“If this is the extent of an apology you can give, I may overestimated your reformation. I don’t want such half-hearted words, father.” Amrod keeps the disappointment down.

“No! No, of course not. I have- I planned a speech, I do!” Fëanor insists. “I’ve- I’ve not seen you for a long time. You’re a father already, Telvo. It’s just- you truly are one- a father to children of your own.”

“We’re not talking about my children father.” He interrupted him. Especially not in the open, close for Mandos. Who knows what’s eavesdropping.

“Of course.” Fëanor nodded. “I regret many things I’ve done, my obsession with the stones, the Oath and the kin-slaying. Burning of the ships will be forever one of my regrets, as is forcing my brother to go through the ice.” Amrod notes that Fëanor actually called uncle Fingolfin brother. “I regret your death ion. I always did.”

“You seemed well happy, burning the ships. Was me, burning, also an intention of yours?” Amrod asked, remembering his disdainful sneer seen from distance.

“No.” Fëanor said firmly. “It was no intention of mine, nor punishment for your second thoughts. When I ordered the ships to be set on fire... I thought you gone with Amras on the shores. Not inside-

I realized only when Pityo pointed out you’re missing. Your scream only affirmed your fate. But I never, never intended for your death to happen. I’m sorry.”

They are quiet for a while before Amrod probes for more. “Did you shed tears for me after I died?”

Fëanor hesitates a bit before answering. “Before my re-embodiment, and before I’ve stepped into the Halls, I’ve not shed a single tear, for anyone. Not even my mother.” Meaning, not even for Amrod. “But I mourned. I did. I do. It is only tears that escaped me, back then. But I’ve felt the loss of you, son. I did.” 

Amrod stares at his father, a politician with a level of sway many couldn’t contest to. Even deposed from inheriting the throne, unless dire needs, he still held so much power, formally disowning him would lead to a political disaster no one wants. Not like with Turgon.

Which means, there will always be a layer of deception in him. A charisma that convinces people to follow him unquestionably. There is sincerity to his features, but there are little moments where he didn’t seem sincere.

“Did you truly?”

“There’s not been a day I’ve not wondered what became of you, especially since you never appeared in the halls.” Fëanor hesitated. “You were gone for long.”

And no one knew what became of him, only for his children to appear out of nowhere to Formenos's doorsteps.

“I find it hard to believe. You were quite set to reclaim the Silmarils to care for such a trivial things such as my demise.” Fëanor winced but did not defend himself.

“I... the Halls opened my sight.” He looks reluctant to admit so. “Your death haunted me.”

As it should.

“It’s not easy for me either.” Amrod said. “There are good memories, in the past, before Silmarils, before Moringotto plagued our places and your mind. But you’ve done much injustice, by your decisions alone. I can overlook the kinslaying. I’m neither the judge nor one to be the one to forgive you for that.

The ships sting, but what hurts more, is that rather than trying to comfort Amras upon my death, your words matched your madness. You told everyone I died up to my name.” Yet another thing he shared with Aegnor with unfortunate names and fates tied to them. Honestly, if they switched their Amilessë, their names still would fit to their fates. Which is morbid to think about.

“I cannot speak up in my defence during these times. But I regret a lot. That much you should know.” So he does not deny his last words regarding him.

“But not everything.” He guessed.

The silence is telling.

“I regret the fires” He admits after a moment. “I regret the pain my sons went through, each. I regret there is so little trust after the ordeal, that none of you trust me enough around your children.”

That caught his attention. “None?”

Fëanor gave him a sardonic smile. “Maedhros declared Elrond his heir, and if there was any dissatisfaction from my side, I had a few colorful words sent my way, besides keeping us at distance to protect him.

I don’t think I’ve talked to him the first century he came to the shores before Elrond decided to break the situation by forcing a meeting himself.

Curufin actually threw a wrench at me the first time after his and Celebrimbor’s re-embodiment and a whole new forge just for the two of them was made. So no, you are not the only one.” It was a thing of laughter now, with everything resolved at best of their abilities.

“I’ve missed you, Ambarto.”

“Umbarto.” Amrod corrects him if a bit snarkily. “As you said, it truly is a name fitting of me.”

“I-” Fëanor opened his mouth, before coming up short of words. “I’m sorry.”

Honestly, all the upset washed away at that. This was leading nowhere. Forgiving him was hard, but not forgiving seemed even harder of a task. Especially since his kids somehow came to be known to him.

“I’d do anything to prove you I truly regret what happened back then.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say.” Amrod warns with a frown. Fëanor looked back at his son, with an unwavering gaze. He trust me not to misuse it, Amrod realizes.

 Suddenly an idea crossed his mind.

“If that’s so... Then let’s try this.” Amrod gestured to Gilfast, who galloped closer, and then Amrod reached to a pouch on the side, his hand disappearing farther than it should have been possible. Fëanor followed the motion, and Amrod pulled out an object and passed it to him.

It was a jewel of various colours. It did not shine, but it certainly had it’s shape. It was bright unnatural pink, prompring Fëanor to examine it closer.

“It’s not a good jewel.” Fëanor can’t help but point out.

“My sons made it.”

“...they gave out a lot of effort.”

Fëanor looked curiously as he got the jewel handed to his own hands. It felt fragile now that he had it in his hands. “What do you want me to do with it?” Was this a test?

Amrod smiled. “Eat it.”

For a while, Fëanor thought he misheard.

“You didn’t.” Amrod says with a painfully familiar face of mischief reading his incredulous face. “In one swallow, father.”

_____________________________________________________

Nerdanel did not expect to see her son coming at her with such an urgent look. Ëarwen stopped talking upon seeing her looking at her arriving son and smiled. “It seems they grew to miss you quickly.”

She frowned, squinting at the arriving figure. “No, I don’t think that’s why he arrived. He looks far too serious to be here for just a visit.”

“I will leave you two to sort it out.” She said softly.

It took no time for Amras arrive, heavily breathing. “Amme, Amme, Amrod- Amord is-”

“Amrod?” Hope sparked in her fëa. “You found him?”

Amras hesitates. “He’s in the Halls of Mandos.”

She blinked in surprise. “Still? Or-” Oh no, not another one-

“No no, he didn’t die, he just went there to discuss with Mandos.”

“Discus? Discuss what?”

Amras opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened them again. “How do you feel about more grandchildren? Because being an uncle of another 12 is already overwhelming.”

“What?”

___________________________________________

The place was fantastical, as it was unsettling, be it for animals that roamed it’s places, unfamiliar trees than toppled even the highest mellyrn, or by the climate alone. Let's also not forget what seemed like Ent prototypes.

It was very similar to the climate of the forests Morgoth claimed, before they were razed to nothing.

“Oh, oh!” Laimandir exclaimed his sight glued to a plant on the ground tugging at . “Can we pick these? They’d make a good salad!” He gives out a pleading look towards their party.

Alacarno peers at whatever he was looking. “Oh, wild geraniums.”

“They’re tastier than their domesticated variety. It must have accidentally traveled through.” Laimandir said excitedly. “Can we pick them please?”

Alacarno looks at Maedhros nodding at each other.

“We ought to stop for a small break anyway.”

“Can we go little farther for our camp?? I can hear water from that side.” Celegorm suggests. “We can gather the plant-”

“Just the flowers.” Laimandir corrected.

“-the flowers and then go to where the water is.”

They all agreed, and so they took a small break, Laimandir freeing himself from Elrond’s hold to sprint towards the flowers.

Elrond came with him. “Can I help you?” The geranium flowers had a peculiar look, similar to a carnivorous plants like a flytrap. Laimandir looks considering the idea, before nodding.

“Do you happen to have a pouch so I could put them in there?” Thankfully, there was always use for spare bags, so he came up with smaller bag, Laimandir looking grateful.

“You should take them from behind, where they can’t see. Careful they can detect movement. The plant is really young so bities will only sting a bit, you should see Gerald, he’s one of my favourite plants. Like that, then you rotate it and take out the plant like this, see?” Laimandir patiently showed him. “Let’s harvest them while they’re asleep.”

Elrond looked at him with a level of amusement, listening attentively. It was cute. How long ago was it that his daughter tried to convince him that cacti shoot their spikes? At the reminder of his daughter he felt a pang of longing. How long until they meet again?

“So I should do it like this?” He copied his movement. Laimandir’s eyes widened.

“No wait- Your hand is right next to another flower-”

CHOMP.

Elrond lived a long time. Living two ages means he had an image to live up to, and he decidedly did not jump when a flower just bit into him.

“Well, this got a bit harder.” Laimandir exclaimed. “No matter, their bites don’t hurt at this point.”

Just to prove his point, more flowers ‘awoke’ and started menacingly biting into Elrond’s hands. They hardly drew out blood, but the way they retracted and attacked again stung a bit and reminded him of snakes.

“I’ll cut them up while they are distracted, alright?”

Contrary to dying, they started hissing after being detached much to Elrond’s morbid curiosity.

“They’re surprisingly...alive.”

“Of course they are. Those are plants. They’re alive until they wither. I could propagate them... probably. I think Gerald would appreciate neighbors.”

“Who’s Gerald?”

“My pet plant, about 10, no a hundred times this plant's size. He sprouted into quite a large size recently.”

Elrond suspects this may not be over-exaggeration this time. “I’m getting curious about your garden.”

“Gardens.” Laimandir corrected. “We have too many varieties and cannot keep them in the same place. The humidity and all, you see.”

It bought a question how they stumbled or made such place.

But before he could ask-

Laimandir got up, looking satisfied.

“Alright! I’m done, we can go back now.” Laimandir declared with the bundle of flowers stacked inside the bag, all still animatedly hissing.

“Right... You should show them these.” Elrond leaned in. “They won’t stay as fresh as now.”

Laimandir blinked but smiled brilliantly back before doing just that.

Curufin, who was sitting on the ground, nodded at them. “Done already?”

Laimandir nodded. “We did! Look how many we got.”

Elrond carefully kept his distance, waiting to see their reactions.

Curufin peered at the plants. “Are you sure they’re edible?.” He went to pick one only to yelp and step back in shock.

Celebrimbor blinked. “Atto?”

“W-What was that?!” Curufin seethes.

And Celegorm: “What was what?”

“That! It bit me!”

Celegorm lazily blinked.

“Did you accidentally grab a rat?”

“No! And look, those things hiss back at me!”

They peered at it, freezing that indeed, flowers with various teeth were hissing in indignation.

“What.” Celegorm breathed out. He hovered his hand over them, little jaws attacking him. They also hissed a lot almost like small screams.

“They’ll tire soon enough. They can’t scream forever.” Laimandir said sagely. Everyone paused a bit, to stare at the plant loving child.

Elrond gently grabbed Laimandir by the shoulders. “That,” He starts, “could be taken very badly if taken out of context.”

“What did I say?”

Alacarno also arrived, peering at the flowers. “They must be young.” He exclaims, is hands reaching into the bag.

“Careful.” Curufin warns. “They bite.” And he can’t help but deadpan at how it sounds, since he’s talking about a plant.

Alacarno took one flowers. “They look fine to me.” Just to prove his point, he popped a whole hissing flower in his mouth, it’s jaws and teeth, all.

Celegorm jumped in alarm. “Are you-”

“They’re pretty good.” Alacarno said, chewing and swallowing in one go. “Do you want to have a try?”

He gestured to everyone, handling his siblings one.

 Aþumon and Alyastar gobbled the flowers without a pause, while Faelnor and Mírion took more time as they studied the flowers.

Alacarno even handled one to Maedhros and Maglor who looked dubiously at the writhing plant.

“Try it, they’re not half bad.” Alacarno smiled encouragingly.

Maglor folded fast, popping the flower in his mouth. His eyes widened. “Oh, it bites back.”

It bites back?!

Maglor chewed thoroughly, looking thoughtful. “It tastes similar to nutmeg. It’s writhing stopped too. It’s not bad. Better than that time Celegorm forced us to try eat oysters raw.”

“Hey, some of you developed a taste for that.” Celegorm defends himself. It wasn’t bad the more you try it.

“Caranthir has questionable food tastes and therefore does not count.” Curufin barks back. “He once ate a goat’s stones from it’s stomach because he had to create good relations with dwarves.”

Faelnor blinked. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t get that one either.” Celebrimbor added looking just as puzzled.

Curufin groaned.

Celegorm cackled, before popping one flower into his mouth too. “It does taste like nutmeg.” He said thoughtfully. “Do you have similar plants around here?” There were animate willows, biting flowers, what’s next? Walking plants?

Laimandir’s eyes sparkled. “Certainly! We have chomping cabbages at home I can show you! Or my many greenhouses!”

“Chomping-”

_____________________________

Just as Celegorm guessed, the lake wasn’t far. They all stopped at a pier that looked freshly made, some dipping their legs into the cool water.

The view from the pier gave them a clear sight of the castle from the outside.

It looked...

Well, everyone was rather taken aback.

Celebrimbor tilted his head, in hopes it would look different from an angle. “It’s...unique.”

His father was far less flattering. “What is that thing?” He felt offended on his brother’s behalf, because what is that?

Even those that were usually calm couldn't help but gape a bit.

Alacarno shone at the sight. “That’s our house. Incredible, isn’t it?” He said, not getting their aghast looks.

“Incredible... would be one way to put it.” Elrond says mildly, studying the features. It looked really-

“It’s like a fight broke out while making the...thing.” Curufin said. Does it even have the right to call itself a castle?

Alacarnassë looked shy at that. “Well, I can’t say we hadn’t gone through various disagreements...”

“But it turned out well!” Alyastar finishes with a bright smile. Alacarno ruffles her head in endearment.

“Just so you know, Alyastar speaks for herself.” Piped up Faelnor.

“It’s not bad!” Laimandir insists.

“It grows on you the longer you look.” Aþumon supplied.

“Like a fungus.” Mírion finishes sagely.

The entirety of eldest three winced, for they did not know Celebrimbor and Curufin as well as they did, and they knew they would not let this go anytime soon.

Also- Maedhros eyes his small copy. “We?”

Alacarnassë smiled brightly. “This house, we made it, from top to bottom together. We tried to put in all things we liked.”

Curufin opened and closed his mouth in shock and outrage mixed with exasperation and disbelief.

“Amrod...Let you design the house.” Also, who built the house?

“Dad helped with details.” Alacarnassë supplied, which was probably worse.

Amrod wasn’t... the most architecturally gifted individual. And to think he gave his children a free hand to make their dwelling-

“Honestly, I could see it.” Celegorm  voiced their thoughts. Curufin hid his face in his hand while Celebrimbor was still deciding whether he liked it or not.

“It’s lovely! It fits you very well!” Maglor said brightly. Honestly, he liked how the lake looked, he itched for his harp to play. It looked warm to look at with the exception of something quick in the lake swimming towards them.

....

Wait.

...huh?

“There’s something coming.” Maglor hissed suddenly reaching for his sword without a second thought. Everyone’s attention zeroed on the splashing water that seemed to head towards them.

Even Celegorm tensed. Whatever it was, it was big, and very probably, hostile. “Get away from the water.” He barked. Huan beside him also tensed, ready to pounce.

Maedhros and Curufin took out their own weapons, Alacarno peered at the rapidly approaching thing and-

“NO WAIT! DON’T ATTACK!” He shouted urgently.

It was enough to make them minutely hesitate, and suddenly the water splashed to all directions, a young jovial laugh freezing all the adults. The figure arrived riding on what looked like a horse with kelp instead of mane emerged from the water, jumping into the pier without fear. It didn’t look fazed by the others equipped with weapons, smiling brightly at the newcomers. Red hair dripped onto the wood, wild honey eyes zeroing onto them.

“Alacarno! Are those guests?”

• Ship burning

Fëanor only realized he set his son on fire when Amrod screamed his last moments and when Amras raised the alarm. The smoke made it easy to overlook things. Amrod could see Fëanor from distance, but the opposite wasn’t true.

• Names

Names have similar purposes in both worlds, probably because of Ainur influencing the worlds. Names have power and all that.

So I wouldn’t blame Ëarwen and Nerdanel for the names...much. Remus Lupin was literally a self fulfilling name :V. Bellatrix also held an ominous tone. Harry thinks any name that’s not Dudley is loads better. (Also, I find it funny when Hermione said she was no delivery owl but then her name is derived from Hermes, we missed a mean joke-)

• tropical forests

In some cases, like tropical forests, were already occupied by Morgoth, and then orcs toppled those places. Celegorm doesn’t have a good memory of these, because they were already corrupted to a point.

:’)

• Gerald the plant

Pomfrey gave Neville a giant carnivorous, fanged geranium. And yes, these plants are canon. As to why it sprouted so much, morbidly, it thrived on corpses...

Yikes.4

Chapter Text

Two weeks without Bill wasn’t a complete disaster. Mainly because he experienced it once already, when he moved to work with Gringotts. Still, he had no idea what the twins moved onto, once they were done with colouring sheep to a permanent colour or deep blue and other just as unnaturally rich colours.

Charlie would like to claim everything was under control, but even he hesitated to call it that. The twins are now attempting their new candies, something called...dragon beard candy which, you know, he’s 100% for that, but the time they spent in the potion lab was worrying. But he’s really looking forward for the candy so he’s not pressing...yet.

It wasn’t as worrying as Luna deciding to uncork their winery because she had a new necklace idea. At least the Abraxan’s appreciated the change of liquor, but the additional work was something Charlie would do without. On the other hand, necklace that helps him against being bitten came in handy so he also can’t complain about that. It would have helped if Luna wasn't constantly off and about like a ghost appearing and disappearing at will.

Ginny in contrast, was very easy to take care of. She was the tomboyish girl(once, the only girl) of their family, youngest, and someone who had to fight tooth and nail to get them to stop babying her. It showed. As a girl raised in ratio of 2 to 7, girl to boys ratio of a whole family, parents included, there was only so much their mother could do to make her resemble a lady.

By 4, Charlie taught her to catch frogs, and she always liked to chase mice since their cat passed away, pretending to be her chosen successor by the law of paw. She liked to jump around and never found it in herself to sit still.

There was a thirst for freedom, for speed and while Bill and Percy were always the stricter of the lot, he never found much harm in enabling her. Even the twins were much more coddling than necessary.

He’s convinced that if he gave her a knife and a water pouch and sent her to live in the woods she would survive. Granted, he’s not allowed to test that, explicitly stated by Bill, after he found out the first time he wanted to prove them Ginny was capable of independence in the wild.

The only thing she needs to live out off is excitement in form of a rush of adrenaline, that, Charlie knows very well. Most of them wish for something similar, Percy being an anomaly he once needed to figure out before meeting Hannah, Neville and Luna, who quite demonstrated you don’t need to thirst for adventure necessarily to prove your relation.

Ginny liked rushes of adrenaline, in form of flying with her broom. Especially while making dangerous moves, and of course she knew how to do the Wronski feint the moment she got to Hogwarts. No thanks to her obsession towards her brother, which she must have copied immediately.

Now that brooms were unavailable, thanks to the fact they didn’t have much time to get new ones after the whole ordeal of the war... Ginny found a substitute, or well, Charlie is fairly sure it’s her new passion.

Winged horses, thestrals, and hippogryffs. Not that he has any problem with her riding them. It effectively erases a part of his responsibilities with her talking the various herds out regularly, feeding them, brushing them and keeping them fit and also not letting them feed only on one place regularly.

But he would do without seeing her essentially playing ‘trust fall’ with them though.

But two weeks without 6 of their siblings is still a long time, and it shows.

“We’re eating outside again?” Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow while the ‘chicken’ roasts on the open fire.

“You want to let the twins cook?”

She made a face. “Noted.”

“Oh dear sister.” Fred shook his head from the side.

“You truly hurt us so.” George agreed.

“We totally could make up a great feast with our skills alone.” They sang in an off tone.

“Without adding anything inside it?” Charlie deadpans. There always, always, was a catch to their suspiciously normal dishes.

“It’s not our fault our hands move on their own.” Fred mock defended himself.

“It’s like they have their own mind.” George said solemnly. “Like Jorge here.” He pats the jar beside them.

“Severed body parts do not belong to a dining table.” He can’t believe he just said that.

That line should have been his line, once a dragon mauled a piece of his limb for good!

Ginny narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “I think you missed the point somewhere in there.” She said reading his face like an open book.

The twins looked unfazed.

“Good thing we’re eating in the woods then, right?” Fred said cheekily.

“Hey, it’s not our fault the only food you can make into something edible it one cooked in wilderness.” George added.

Percy hummed, nodding a little. “He’s not wrong.” George’s eyes sparkled much to Charlie’s chagrin.

“Percy, not you too.” What happened to the rule abiding brother of his that always backed him up?

“He died in a ditch of his pride.” Percy said in over seriousness. Did he say it out loud? “Your face says it all, anyway, you know what they say, if you can’t beat it-”

“Join it.” George and Fred said in unison, increasingly gleeful.

Percy?!

“Responsibility is an exaggerated word that leaves you drained and overstressed while promising you fulfillment that never comes.” He said solemnly. Percy?!?! “It’s an endless loop of misery, and my eyes had been opened by Gringotts self-help books.”

“Gringotts has what now?”

Out of nowhere, several books materialize, showing him various titles written in gobbledegook with small translation scribbled under.

Percy recited them with a manic shine in his eyes. ‘Meaning of business: a sham ain’t a scam’ ‘The law intricacies: How to best throttle your enemy with words’ ‘Blackmailing: The dirty secrets behind the gleam that will help you thrive ’

Fred whistled. “I like the titles already.”

“Bill gave them to me!” Percy said proudly. “The best read I had, ever.”

“Bill gave you these.” He said. Why is it him being accused of being careless with his siblings when Bill does this out of nowhere?! Well, yeah, the cage thing had been a little much but still! These books?! Bill, what in Merlin?

“Yeah, he never got around to read them because he’s not fluent enough in Gobbledegook, but I was!” He says brightly. “They use a more secret type of speech than common Gobbledegook, something royalists or very posh people would speak if they were goblins.” So of course Percy had to be fluent.

“Wait.” Interrupted Ginny. “If that’s why, hod did you learn it? Bill’s a language genius.”

“He’s not a teacher’s pet.” Percy said. “Filius Flitwickk came from a very well-off family of goblins.”

George gaped. “Oh wow, did you just admit-”

“I admit to have very good connections and happen to know what punishment Flitwick gave you that day on 6^th year when he gave you an ultimatum of a detention a month or one day of hell.” He smiled sweetly at his brother and you know what?

They backed off. With a look of respect too.

Luna pat Percy’s back. “The books suit you.”

Percy glows. “Thank you.”

Some days,  Charlie feels like the only sane left. Oh, he hopes Bill comes home soon.

The smell of well roasted cockatrice filled his thoughts. He took the chicken off the roast.

Charlie looks at it. “Now that I think about the bird, who’s going to-”

They all look at Luna.

She pouted.

“Everyone has to own up to their mistakes. On the bright side, you didn’t breed a basilisk accidentally, so Bill might be more merciful.” Percy said, receiving a serving the not quite chicken to from Charlie with a nod.

Luna pointed at the tail, immediately forgetting the whole ‘own up to her mistake’ bit in face of a meal like any other starved person.

“It doesn’t have a lot of meat.” He warns her.

Luna doesn’t seem deterred. “It’s okay, I want to use it’s bones for Ron’s seeing abilities.”

The twins crack up.

Ginny patted her sister while munching on the chicken tasting cockatrice almost choking on it from laughing. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

______________________________________________

It’s that time of the week when one takes their favourite man-eating kelpie on a ride. Well, former man-eating. She’s tame now, really. Her skin glistened against the morning sun, and he greeted her readily, gillyweed already prepared Bill’s mouth. Just like with dragons, better safe than sorry.

“Are you ready for a ride?” He asked the kelpie who splashed him in impatience.

Charlie chuckled. “Alright, alright, here- is that Bill?” He narrowed his eyes and yes, it was Bill! His sight is really good now that he thinks about it. And there were his siblings! And- were those adult elves? Huh. First time he’s seen any other elf beside themselves. They didn’t seem hostile though...

The kelpie impatiently splashed him again.

“Uh, sorry, sorry, I got lost over the view there...” An idea occurred to him. Since they look like guests more than anything, why not greet them? He couldn’t help but grin a bit. “Kelly, are you ready to greet our new quests?” He asks the kelpie who thrilled in consent.

Jumping into the water and swallowing a portion of gillyweed quickly, it was a matter of few seconds before the plant kicked in, gills and webbing appearing on his body, his vision clearing in the fresh water. From the distance, he could even make out the giant squid’s appendages.

“Let’s go, Kelly.” He babbles underwater, the kelpie wasting no time into swimming his older brother’s way.

He can see everything moving insanely quickly and before he knew, he was already few feet before the pier. The adult elves seemed to hurdle forward, keeping his siblings in the back for safety.

Not bad. He approved of that.

Patting the shape shifting ’demon’ he signed her to do a big jump.

She didn’t disappoint as she jumped and gurgled out a mermaid worthy screech when out of water, but vaguely horse like.

He almost called out Bill, before remembering their new language. He widely grinned, basking in their shocked looks.

“Alacarno! Are those guests?” He calls with a large mischievous grin.

Bill doesn’t look as thrilled as he does, seeing him. In fact, he folds his arms and looks meaningfully at him.

“You could not be less dramatic?” He asks reproachfully. Too bad Charlie was adult once and this face was not as effective now.

“Dramatics flow through our veins, you can’t pretend it away. Per- ah, Sanairë tried before. ” Before anyone could reply, he jumped down with flail, arms open and welcoming despite the adults holding the long swords in a threatening manner. “So, are those guests or Kelly’s future dinner? I tell you she has a taste for flesh of the sentient.” He didn’t hesitate to show his teeth.

A beat.

“We don’t threaten quests, Ronyangon.” Admonishes Bill and that’s enough to get them all talking.

An elf with disheveled black hair and a harp tied to him, perked up, looking at Charlie intently. “Pityo Celegorm?”

“He was small a long time ago, Káno.” Another elf with red hair says to the black haired ‘Káno’ gently.

Káno rolls his eyes. “I know that. I’m not that far gone, I keep telling you. But why does it looks like Celegorm multiplied?”

“I didn’t!” The silver-headed elf shrieked. “He doesn’t even look like me!”

“His words fool me well enough.” Káno retorted.

Another black haired elf resembling Hermione looked at Charlie critically. “Amrod certainly tried in your stead.”

That caught his attention. “Dad? You know our father?”

Alacarno sighted. “Those aren’t just random adults. Allow me to introduce you, those are our relatives.” He vaguely pointed at them.

Charlie blinked. “What?” Wait. “Ohhh, the childhood stories.”

“The childhood stories.” Confirmed Alacarno.

Thankfully, Charlie recovered immediately, smiling brightly at the newcomers. “Well, introduce us then! Family is always welcome, more the merrier, yes?”

They did, one by one, ending with the elf named Celegorm. The elf wasn’t looking at him at all, rather watching-

“She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” Charlie says, seeing him staring openly at the kelpie in the back. He agrees as he had never seen a horse-like creature, even if only by trickery, looking so good while being all green and mossy. Kelpies were wonderful water demons.

“It’s- What is she? Can I touch her?” Celegorm asks, already approaching the beast who blinked at him slowly.

Charlie couldn’t help but smile at his apparent uncle’s intrigue. “They’re a kelpie, a type of water creature, and sure, you can touch her, she’s docile.” Charlie nods but freezes when Celegorm  does few distinct horse noises. Even Kelly jumps in intrigue before answering. Celegorm lights up at that.

“You can talk to animals?” Charlie is jealous, not going to lie.

“All. She’s quite friendly. I was taken aback by what you said earlier, they are carnivorous then, their kind?”Celegorm asks, his hand moving and hovering just above the kelpie, before lowering down to pat the animal. The kelpie did not object to being touched.

In the back, his 5 siblings are choking, while Alacarno looks half exasperated and half worried Kelly is going to bite a chunk off his uncle. Which was ridiculous, as kelpies eat strictly underwater.

He nods to his uncle’s question. “They’re carnivorous and have a taste for anything resembling man or men themselves.”

Celegorm stops, pausing at that.

“Does she?” Charlie obliviously does not notice tensing of others, looking at Celegorm not even batting an eye. And that is enough to clue him that he and his uncle may be more alike than he thought.

“She used to be man-eating nightmare of the blue lake, before a harness was put over her. She’s a sweetheart, but you can’t forget she did drown countless people to feast on them.” Charlie explained, coming to also stroking the spectacular kelpie that preened at the attention.

Curufin clears his throat from the back. “What?”

Celegorm didn’t look deterred.

“Wonderful.” He breathes out. “How strong are their jaws?”

“Not that strong for a carnivore. They drown their victims quick, so they take their time for the rest. But interestingly, the kelp growing instead of their mane are used as a trapping net, limiting the person from movement when they realize they’ve been tricked. Keeps them from flying upwards.”

"So not much of a bone breaker?"

“No, she has the bones on the bottom of the lake. It’s part of the nesting behaviour.” He stares at his uncle Celegorm intently, while Celebrimbor was looking quite faint. In fact, a lot of them were quite pale at his explanation.

Celegorm looked-

“Well, that’s fascinating, what else do they do? How different are they from regular horses? Look at you girl, aren’t you one sucessful huntress?”

Charlie smiled. Somehow, he felt they’re going to get along very well.

Curufin wails in despair in the back.

Alacarno and Maedhros coughed loudly, look at each other in surprise, coming to a decision by a single glance.

“While it is great you’re getting along, let’s move that topic a bit farther in the future.” Alacarno said politely.

Maedhros nodded. “There is still a road ahead of us.”

The two of them pouted in unison.

“But Russo! That horse-”

“But Bill! I finally have someone to speak with-”

They look at each other.

“You can do that later.”
“You can do that later.”

Celebrimbor looked at them, leaning to Elrond. “I think we should take Amrod’s cloning a bit more seriously.” Elrond nodded non-comically.

Charlie's attention then shifted towards his five siblings, walking up to them and enveloping them into a crushing hug. Bill may be the best hugger of all, but his were always the strongest.

“I’m glad you’re all back. We’ve been worried.” He said, embracing them tightly just enough for them to breathe.

“We missed home too.” Alyastar says emotionally.

“At least we found our relatives this way.” Grumbles Aþumon. "Can’t wait to be back.”

“I hope my plants were watered properly.” Laimandir says, letting his worries show.

_________________________________________________

Fëanor desperately tried to hide his hair as they went through the forests. After explaining everything about the children and their discovery, his son wasted no time getting back home. Still, Amrod was whistling off rhythm, looking quite pleased with himself as they went their way to his home.

Fëanor’s hair looked even more dazzling in the shade of the forest.

“...You are quite enjoying this.” He mumbled towards his son.

“What can I say father, you’re just so dazzling, it’s downright soothing.” Amrod says, smiling at seeing his father’s glitter-rainbow hair. He started whistling again, clearly dismissing his distress.

“...When does it wear off?” And how did it work? Hair dying of such scale was already an accomplishment worth mentioning. It dyed them down their roots, and his black locks have yet to show few days on the road already.

Amrod stops whistling, looking thoughtful.

“...It does wear off, right?” Because this rainbow was just preposterous. It wasn’t even a pleasant shade. The worst was that it also shone. Quite brilliantly in fact.

“Well,” Amrod drawled. “I don’t think painting your hair black would be a tragedy worth mentioning.”

“Amrod.”

1)Trust fall

Essentially, Ginny is playing how to train your dragon, horse edition, where she falls off a horse testing them whether they’d catch her.

Unknown to all but her, her clothes which she hadn’t worn for more than a decade, have cushioning charms done by Molly, the spell still standing to this day.

• Giant squid

Merlin created the squid on a dare to change him into a freshwater creature, but then abandoned him(well, no, Merlin died and no one cared for him afterwards) Amrod felt bad, so he took him to Hogwarts so he won’t be as lonely. He’s with them now. :’)

Giant squid is a creature that eats everything if you give it to him. From failed potions to plain garbage. He’s happy.

• That Kelpie named Kelly

Formerly man-eating kelpie that had been tamed by a bridle. That said, the kelpie keeps a collection of bones, many of which are humanoid in nature due to the war and generally being man-eating once.

She’s friendly, just make sure the bridle is on when riding her. Kelpies tend to have crocodile behaviors.

Charlie: Swamp puppies go  y o i n k

Surprisingly, it wasn’t any of the Weasleys that named her, but an inconspicuous wizard who liked alliterations, because wizards have their own sense of naming, not much different from Amrod’s own.

• Nonchalance

Celegorm is friends with bears that sometimes munch on corpses. He’s okay with all the weird things.

Chapter Text

It was too bad their encounter with Ronyangon turned out rather short. Ronyangon still had things to do, but they still managed to let Elrond examine him. His body was littered in burn scars and vicious scratches and bites, as if various beasts had gone out their way to hurt him.

And very much confirmed dragon marks.

It marked a very grim take on his name, dragon chasing could very well mean chased by dragons by what his body had shown. Still, their meeting was far shorter than they expected. Though his appearance was unexpected too.

Ronyo tightened the reins, looking back at them. A thought passed through Alacarno’s mind. “Ronyo! Can you prepare the quest rooms? We’ll probably arrive by dinner.”

“Well, I can, but I don’t think I’d be able to assemble the beds and furniture in time.” Ronyo says thoughtfully. “I guess someone can steal dad’s bed. Since no one’s using it now, and both ‘twins’ can bunk together to make space.”

Wait, twins?

Assemble?

Falenor peeked out. “Well, that’s okay, our uncles can craft. Assembling an already prepared parts of the bed and furniture can’t be that hard.”

Celebrimbor perked in interest. “Already prepared parts?” What do they mean?

Maedhros nods. “We’ll certainly help. We would not ask of you to do so much.” Especially as Ronyangon looked rather young. Not too young to not be able to craft, but young enough that he should not stress about feeding his siblings, pets, and also preparing their lodging. "And...twins?"

“Nonsense! You’re family! But I guess we can wait for the beds, assembling them together is always fun!” Ronyangon said brightly, and wasn’t he just precious? "Also, yeah, twins. Goes in the family. I can't tell you much about them. Some things need to be experienced firsthand after all." His smile was rather sharp at the end.

Kelpie seemed to grow bored of their interaction, as she rather rudely splashed the closest ones to the water, drenching Ronyangon and Celegorm from head to toe. Neither seemed fazed however. Petting Kelly as if she just didn't do a rather rude thing in her impatience.

“Well, that’s my cue! I hope you’ll like a leucrotta stew!”

Leucrotta?

But before Celegorm could fire his question to his kindred spirit, Ronyangon was submerged in the water and gone just as abruptly as he arrived with no explanation whatsoever. Will more children appear the same way?

“Leucrotta’s like a moose. But bigger.”  Aþumon explains after a while of stunned silence, seeing their questioning gazes.

It’s enough to draw Celegorms attention from water to trying to pry all their animal knowledge from their brains. “Oh? And what’s their difference?”

Faelnor answers eagerly. “They have very large mouths! Similar to an elk in size and appearance, they are rather peaceful compared to their counterpart. They’re infamous for eating lands dry, if the specific berries and grass they eat grow thin. Oh, and they sometimes eat meat too, if they’re really desperate.” She nods to herself.

“You’d be surprised how many hooved animals are actually strictly herbivores.” It irked him sometimes, how men claimed horses to be herbivorous while they’d seen him feeding them meat from the slain wargs from time to time.

“Well, they ate meat more often than others do.” Faelnor said with pursued lips. “But you’ll notice immediately, as they open their mouth really wide. Like, our size kind of wide.”

That’s... Celegorm’s thoughts fly to that kelpie thing, the biting flowers and everything else they noticed about the forest and suddenly it did not sound so insane anymore. “Well, it’s not that big, you’re barely my knee.” He joked.

Faelnor makes a rather offended noise. "Hey!"

“O-oh!” Yelped Laimandir something occuring him to add. “They also mimic sounds too!” Maglor and Maedhros made a face.

Oh great, a second coming of crebain. Others also grimaced at the reminder of these pests that used to lead people off cliffs or to orc infested areas, cackling loudly when they accomplished their nasty plot.

“Uh, sounds delightful.” He said uncertainly. “I mean, who doesn’t want to have an animal mimic speech...” It seemed like a right response, based on their nods.

“They’re really proficient.” Mírion said thoughtfully, seeing something beyond them.

“Yeah, there was that time when Ronyangon was feeding them, but then they started mimic Alacarno to come their way, leading him to an injured foal.” Aþumon said.

And...

“You’re fine with that?” Gaped Celebrimbor. “Does animal mimicking your voice not unsettle you?”

“Well, I could name some worse. Like talking spiders. No one likes those.” Aþumon openly shuddered at that.

“...Fair enough.” Celegorm amended with mild concern. Honestly, what else is to say to that?

Elrond did not agree with letting the spiders rest. “You met spiders?” He asks, concerned.

Mírion and Aþumon looked at each other, sighing. “Too many of them at once.”

“Worst thing was their size.” Aþumon shivered.

“Their size? Did you forget when Aragog told us that while he won’t eat us, he will not stop his offspring to do so in his stead?” Mírion objected.

“I tried to forget that bit, thanks.” Aþumon murmured.

“Um, how did you get out?” Celebrimbor asks also growing in concern.

“We managed to run away in time! Thankfully. Anyway, we learned our lesson and won’t follow a spider trail next time.” They sagely nod to each other.

“What made you follow it the first time?” Why follow one at all?

The two children look at each other. “Gossip.” “Definitely that.”

Faelnor rolled her eyes. “They just wanted to know if the spiders were the one to kill a girl 50 years ago.”

“...And you decided the best way to find out was to go straight to the suspects.” Finished Elrond, closing his eyes to hide his exasperation. It’s like his children again. No Arwen, just because we think this man might be embezzling does not mean you can ask directly, Arwen I just told you-  “You could have died there.”

“Oh believe me, I thought we would.” Aþumon said.

“On another hand, we found out the spiders weren’t the suspects, so that was something we got out.” Mírion points out.

“Which you would have known already if you trusted Hagrid in the first place.” Faelnor said.

“You had it tough.” Alyastar amends. “Me and Neville meanwhile awakened a manivorous tree.”

Neville perked up. “That was a good time.”

Alyastar looked torn between agreeing and just throwing hands into air in exasperation. “Unforgettable undoubtedly.”

“Don’t you mean carnivorous?” Curufin asked.

“Oh, no, manivorous. But you can trick them into eating animal as long as it has an opposing thumb. Bloom the most beautiful flowers to date.” Laimandir sighs dreamily. “An unforgettable sight and even more graceful smell.”

“That are used to lure more victims.” Alyastar adds.

Faelnor sighs. “We all had a tough year.”

That all happened within a year?!

“You...should elaborate on your stories sometime.”

“Oh hey, we’re a the gates.” The children said, smoothly dodging answering that.

The closer they came in, the more they realized how wrong the construction was. Coming right before the gates, they just realized by how much.

Curufin swallowed. Calm, he chanted to himself, your nephews made this.

The thought is not comforting.

“It’s- unique, looking closer.”

Bill enjoyed their looks. “You can say it’s out this place.”

Ron gave him an offended look. His uncles registered nothing.

They don’t know dad jokes? Now that is a sacrilege.

All of sudden, Curufin screams. Everyone looked at him as some kind of blueish rodent thing seemed to assault his face, before dropping down and running to the entrance, basically flattening against the door space to fit under it, to escape. He had no scratches, but looked quite is shook by the whole ordeal.

“That thing attacked me!” Wailed Curufin.

“Yes we saw. You fought and lost before a rat. Congratulations.” Celegorm retorted, fighting a laugh.

Harry exchanges looks with Hermione, looking in thought.

“It didn’t look like a rat. More like a platypus.” Harry said.

“Oh, niffler. Wait, did you see the colour of it’s belly?” Hermione asked.

“It was black. Darker than the rest of the fur.”

Ron snaps his fingers. “Oh! Did Charlie leave Moringotto in the open again?”

Everyone, everyone, froze.

Maedhros gave them a bewildered gaze. “Can you repeat that?”

“Our pet niffler. Moringotto.” Bill said in exasperation. “He’s actually my mine, but Charlie loved taking care of him. We need to catch him before he does more damage. Hide all your jewelry or anything that shines against the sun.”

Elrond blinked, fastest to recover from the incredulousity of the name. “Jewelry?”

Bill nodded with a grimace. “Yeah. They cannot help themselves but lunge at the shiniest thing in their view. Speaking of which, what are you missing?” He looked at his uncle Curufin, who upon those words started looking though his pockets and patting his neck and ears in alarm.

“My necklace! Earrings! They’re gone!”

“Yeah, classic Moringotto, he goes for that first. And rings?”

Celebrimbor shook his head. “My father does not wear rings, but I’m also missing some of my own jewelry.” Others doing their own checks too, they were also missing some other things, from spoons to shiny buttons, theft took place all over the place.

"So a sneaky approach huh." Bill mused.

“Nono, back up before we talk about the theft. Moringotto. Where did that name come from? And just...why??” Celegorm cried out.

Bill looked up in thought. “Well, dad wasn’t fond of him at first, with him stealing shinies and all that. Never listened to ‘no’, tended to barge into places he wasn’t supposed to be, and broke havoc all around. And then Dad called him Moringotto and it kind of stuck.” He shrugged, as if naming a rodent-bird-like thing after a Dark lord that bought forth everything wrong was a small concern.

“Moringotto likes...anything that shines.” Celegorm repeated.

Aþumon nodded fervently. “Best in a number of three!”

“Speaking of which, Alyastar, Aþumon, Mírion, give me your watches. We’ll use it as a lure. Moringotto can’t be too far. He’s too greedy for that.”

“Um, Russo? Are you alright? You’re shaking?” Maedhros was indeed shaking. Celegorm looked at his brother in concern, before Maedhros broke into a full blown laugh.

Russo laughed.

Everyone who knew how odd and wrong it was, stepped back, looking at the eldest of Fëanors sons barking mad.

“Haha! Moringotto! What a fitting name!”

Káno looked concerned. “Had Maedhros gone mad?”

Aþumon shrugged. “This ain’t looking too bad. I recon all of us have a bit of madness inside us.”

Bill meanwhile had procured a long branch, a thin rope tied to one end and three watches dangling from the rope’s other end.

Celebrimbor looked at the makeshift land rod. “Is one not enough?”

Bill shook his head. “Moringotto is obsessed with jewerly with the number of three the most. He can’t help his impulses. Watch.” He said, unseeing the look of growing concern in Celebrimbor.

Bill threw the rod forward in one swing and before it even landed a considerable distance towards the ground, the blue thing appeared again, latching onto the jewels but before it could unfasten them, Bill quickly swung back causing the niffler to fly for a while before landing into a tight grip of Bill’s.

“There you are you little bastard.” Bill said fondly, showing him the animal.

Celegorm looked closer at it, cooing. “Okay, something with the name Moringotto has no right to look this cute.”

“It’s vicious! It attacked me!” Curufin shouted, affronted.

“Aww, look at that, what a cute snout.” Celegorm continued. "Now where's your den? Where do you keep your treasures?" Celegorm made some vaguely animal noises, Moringotto replying back with a snark.

Celegorm's smile fell, looking quite shocked, leaning back. "Alright, he may not look it, but he's got a vicious mouth. I don't think he's open to show us it's den. Well, in that case-" Celegorm reached for his knife.

Elrond looks at them in alarm. "You don't do that to pets! Uncle! There are children here!"

"But it's a proven method!" Celegorm said with a pout, knife glinting insidiously. "Besides, you didn't hear what that thing said!"

"Uncle!" Elrond said sharply, looking disapproving.

"There's no need to go that far." Bill agreed. "We just need to shake him until he spills gold."

Elrond whipped his head at his cousin, just as disappointed. Bill already flipped the rodent over. "That's not-" And with a shake, the stolen things started to fall down its pouch, much bigger than it's size.

"What??"

Aþumon whistled at the sight. "Wow, he stole a lot."

Falenor nodded besides him. "He must've followed us for a while."

All valuables keeps dropping, the small niffler making ear spitting noises as if it was psychically dying.

"You would thing after doing this his whole life he'd get used to it." Bill said as he kept shaking him. Only after the last valuable dropped, did he flip the niffler back again, the niffler looking quite upset, looking away from Bill.

Alyastar pat the creature, though it did not look mollified. In fact, it looked even more depressed.

"Will, uh, Moringotto be alright?" Maglor asked after a while.

Aþumon scoffed. "Oh him? Don't worry, he's just fishing for sympathy so you'd spare one coin to him at least. He's not one to repent from his actions. He'll be back at it at his closest opportunity."

As it to make a point, Bill purposefully moves Moringotto closer to the shinies, only to fling him back, the moment he tries to lunge at it. His wails start again, but it is far less effective than the last time.

Curufin and Maedhros exchanged significant glances.

"Somehow, this sounds painfully familiar."

Ikea
Hermione took Amrod to Ikea and he proceeded to buy everything he wanted. I mean, they could have made those beds with magic, but there’s a certain satisfaction coming from when you do something by following Ikea instructions on how to assemble it yourself. Hannah and others also liked the trip to the Ikea and buying from a wide variety.

They now have beds and other furniture with them, ready to be assembled if they ever decided to do so.

Aka: Ikea is great, and Amrod deserves to go inside it at least once.

They also visited malls and everything.

Crebain

Sauron’s pet crows corrupted to do his bidding. Like creepy evil corvids they actually are, they tended to mimic voices of people they met, luring people into traps or right into where orcs were. Parrots went extinct once Morgoth got hands on tropical forests so Middle Earth people have only bad experience with voice mimicking animals so... yeah.

Leucrotta’s are friendly and use mimicking only in defence when trying to intimidate a predator, but do not use it for harm.

Ring Jewelry

Curufin stopped wearing any rings around Celebrimbor to bring him comfort. Most of the family does the same despite it not being problem now anymore.