A Wizard Transplanted

By kyjori

Summary: Harry Potter had no qualms doing whatever it took to destroy Voldemort. In the final battle at the Ministry of Magic, he managed to demolish most of the buildings in a final attack upon Voldemort, annihilating everyone in the vicinity. Harry however already held the Deathly Hallows, and was transported to Middle Earth rather than continuing on the next great Adventure. Immortal, intelligent, and a survivor, Harry perseveres, only to find himself in another conflict that cumulates to the War of the Ring, and Middle Earth is once again at the crossroads, and only destruction awaits all those involved.

I do not own either Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, what a shame. I could do with the money.

Prologue

Arwen and Harry stood by Gandalf upon the battlements. The aged wizard had rallied the men after the imbecile, otherwise known as Denethor who was the Stewart of Gondor, had called for a foolish surrender.

"Send them into the abyss!" Gandalf bellowed out to the soldiers of Gondor. Multiple trebuchets were fired into the unending sea of orcs. Arwen gripped Harry's left hand, as they waited for the bombardment from each side to abate.

Piercing cries of the Nazgûl and their mounts ripped through the skies. From the ominous clouds above, the infamous ring wraiths descended upon the defending forces. After installing fear into the hearts of men, the serpentine mounts descended upon the artillery. In a matter of minutes, the beasts made mincemeat out if the trebuchets.

Harry stood too far away to protect their valuable weaponry, but inaction on his part ended soon after. Siege towers were approaching the walls. A boulder had ripped through one like a hot knife through butter, but there were many more still standing.

He knew that fiendfyre would burn the towers into the ground, but this was a siege; with only finite amount of energy with the outlook on time to recover bleak, he had to conserve his energy. Controlling the cursed fire would quickly drain him of his magic if he decided to burn down something so large. With the tens of thousands of enemy combatants, not to mention the Witch King if Angmar to contend with, he had to be fight strategically.

He withdrew his dagger from his waist and begun flat spinning the blade across the top of his hand. Arwen had drawn Hadhafang and was meditating before the onslaught of the orcs flooded their position.

She turned and gazed upon his eyes. The blue of hers were piercing and they conveyed the seriousness of her words. "Stay with me," she states simply, "let us hope that the Valar watch over us"

He simply nodded in agreement Harry knew she had lived for almost 3000 years, and her skills with a sword was nothing to scoff at. Her prowess in physical combat definitely surpasses his own, considering she had over 2000 years of training on him. But even that wasn't likely to cause him to leave her side during this battle. He would be damned if anyone would try to kill her on his watch. Not to mention, if anything happened to her, he would have to deal with an enraged Lord Elrond; this was something to be avoided at all cost.

"Be swift. No hesitation. We shall be the harbingers of death to these fiends." Harry stated right before the doors of the siege towers slammed down in top of the walls.

Waves upon waves crashed down on the defenders. The clang of metal on metal was ringing through the air. Screams from fallen soldiers, war cries from the standing men and the guttural roars from the orcs were never ending. Gondorian soldiers fought valiantly against the never ending tide.

Harry and Arwen stood in the midst of the enemy, backs against each other. Hadhafang made mincemeat of the orcs. Arwen moved like she was in an elegant dance, twisting and turning to dodge fatal blows, slashing the exposed necks of her enemies, and all the while making it look so simple. Harry was telekinetically controlling Angrist with his left hand. The knife known as iron cutter, cut through the air with ease, and slay orcs left and right. If this legendary knife could cut through Morgoth's iron crown, the primitive armor of the orcs stood no chance. Orcs fell easily to the knife that sailed through the air, administrating a clean death to all who came near by simply diving into the chests or slashing the throats of its victims.

Those that escaped their fate from Hadhafang or Angrist were immediately dealt with by the stream of dark cutting curses that were cleaving its way through the sea of orcs. The elder wand swept through the air in the right hand of the young wizard. The wand almost sung in glee as it painted the ramparts with the blood of its enemies. Stormy Emerald green eyes glowed as the power of the Istar radiated from every pore on his body. Even though the orcs wished for anything else than to charge at the tandem, the fear of the Nazgûl drove them forward.

Many bodies were strewn upon the ground. Harry had picked up a fallen broadsword from a soldier to use. Sword in one hand, dagger in the other, he continued to fight on. He had chosen to holster his wand in order to conserve his strength, and was fighting with the skills that Celeborn and Haldir had taught him in the woods of Lothlórien. His attention was drawn away by Arwen dragging him to her side. She pointed and Harry's jaw dropped. There stood the slowly approaching battering ram of epic proportions. Over a hundred feet long, it was ushered in by the chants of Grond by the orcs. The front was made of steel shaped of a ravenous wolf with its mouth enflamed, was pushed towards the gate by a horde of mountain trolls.

Harry immediately dropped his sword and his wand flew to his hand. He inventoried his spell list mentally, and decided upon the blasting curse. With a quick counterclockwise twirl with his wand, he jabbed and silent confringo, a yellow streak shot like a bullet at Grond. The spell however reflected off the ram into a group of orcs who were subsequently turned into fertilizer in the large crater. Harry cursed and waved the wand over his head in a wide circle. Flames of red and orange were beginning to form shift into existence and condense. The form of a great Eagle could be seen in the midst. Harry brought the wand down in the direction of the battering ram. "Fiendfyre!" Harry roared, and the eagle of fire dove at its target. He could immediately feel the magic drain out of his core due to the strenuous spell, but he was awarded with a raging inferno blazing around Grond. Sweat dripped down his brow while the mountain trolls were crying out in anguish around his target.

Harry held the spell for almost half a minute before he forced the flames to flash out of existence, but after the smoke cleared, Grond still stood. Other trolls rushed to replace the dead ones, but before Harry could do anything else, a Nazgûl shriek was heard way too close for comfort. Its flying mount was on a trajectory straight for him.

"Arwen! Nazgûl, get ready to retreat!" he brought his wand up shot a reducto in the direction of it, but the flying mount was able to dodge. Arwen was still fighting off the infinite amount of orcs. The blood of her enemies stained her sword and clothes, but she seemed unperturbed and fought on.

Harry knew he could not get drawn into an extended duel with a Nazgûl when they were pretty much surrounded by orcs. His eyes glanced at the archway that led to their retreat. Left hand swung Angrist straight at the hooded face of the wraith, while his right pointed the wand at their escape route. He let loose an overpowered explosion curse pave a way for them to escape and called back his knife to its holder. He grabbed Arwen's hand and the pair ran for it. Fortunately for them, the Nazgûl mount was too large to pursue them and before the orcs could react, Harry waved his wand transfiguring the scrap material around their escape route to form a solid marble wall.

"Harry, thank you," she said between gasps.

"Anytime Arwen." he leaned back against the wall drawing deep breaths. He slid down and took a seat. " We should probably head toward the main gates."

"Yes Harry. Grond will break through the outermost defense very soon." she sighed and sat down across from her partner. "We should assist Gandalf as soon as we are able." Arwen's statement was emphasized when a sound of metal on wood reverberated throughout the castle.

She reached out as drew Harry into an embrace. "Hebo estel Harry."

"Le hannon," Harry thanked her as he tightened the hug. He knew that he would hold on to the hope that everything would turn out alright, no matter how frail, as long as she stood by him.

***Hebo estel means have hope in Elvish, and Le hannon is thank you***