Note: I changed elf aging back to four times as fast, as it was in my initial draft, because the change made it seem inappropriate that Harry was still a kid.

Other note: the formatting got super messed up, for some reason. Hopefully fixed now.

Other other note: I think, after every ten reviews*, I will promise to have a chapter out within a week. This is not to bribe you for reviews, but because I am not very good at consistent updating. I've decided I would like to change that with this story, so it gives me something like a schedule. Chapters may still happen before then, but they will definitely happen by then.
*may be adjusted later if this story gets super popular or super unpopular. Basically, a number that's pretty high and will take a while to reach after the chapter's posted, but not so high it wouldn't be reached for forever.

It has been several months since his arrival in this strange world, and Ele has not grown any more fond of it. The language still seems harsh and grating, and though it is less so than what little Khuzdul he knows and roughly equal to Westron, he hates it because it is of this world. His own body is too short, too stocky, too mannish, and it annoys him to no end when he missteps because he has underestimated the length of his legs. They will not allow him any proper weapons and he did not bring any with him, and they refuse him his comfortable elvishclothes. Even though his proper clothes barely fit his new, ugly body, he still resents the dress they replace it with, which he cannot move in at all. They give him a strange object, which they call glasses, to sit upon his nose, and while they do help correct his vision, he wishes his vision were not blurry at all and it is still not as it should be, to say nothing of his other senses. He can barely hear the trees when he ventures to the edge of the forest.

In short, Ele is miserable. It is made no better by the fact that he residing in a very, very empty castle. To one used to the trees and the company of any number of elves, the building is practically intolerable. Only Dumbledore lives with him over the hot days, beyond portraits that talk, staircases that move, empty suits of armor that act much like real, if soulless, warriors, and, worst of all, ghosts.

Ele shudders. The ghosts are friendly enough, but that almost makes it worse. Clearly this is a place of magic, but of a very strange kind. Ele does not like it at all. He does not look forward to the day he will be asked to wield it, but the day draws ever nearer.

Just the day he arrived here, he got a strange letter he could not read yet. Dumbledore said it was his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, the school Dumbledore led. Ele had always enjoyed lessons, but a school of magic, full of young Istari, of which he himself is, was not an enjoyable thought.

Now they are to head back to that noisy, cramped alley he first arrived in, which is not a pleasant thought, either. Ele has been growing his hair out, for right now it is entirely too messy and entirely too short. Indeed, he had hardly known any race but perhaps the hobbits who often cut their hair so short, and he does not want to be mistaken for a hobbit, even though he knows there is no chance of that, in this strange world where goblins are merchants of money and elves are servants. He shudders. He still cannot stand to look at the race this world calls elves, and he is not looking forward to meeting goblins. He has not seen them before, but he has heard stories...

The technology, too, bewilders him. They go to the bathroom indoors, which seems terribly unsanitary and unnatural, but Dumbledore tells him that is simply the way things are done here and he must live with it, now.

Dumbledore apparateshim back to the alley when he arrives, sulkily, in his office, having bypassed the stone gollum easily with the password Dumbledore had given him earlier. The older wizard does not even offer a greeting before they apparate, leaving Ele nauseous and sick to his stomach. Even referring to him again as Harry Potterwould be better than this injustice.

But then again, perhaps not, Ele thinks, staring glumly at the crowds. He has seen the attention some strangers lavish his Ada with when they visit, and it is never anything he had really wished to experience for himself; though he gets some attention, most respect that he is still an elfling. This is frustrating at times, but it is better, he thinks, than being famous. But he is famoushere. They think him dead, but if it gets out that he is truly alive, that only makes it worse.

"To Gringotts first, I think. As long as I am accompanying you, I have a package to fetch." Dumbledore says.

They approach the the ostentatious and gaudy pillars. Nothing at all like Greenwood, Ele thinks wistfully.

"Hallo, Ellee-sill!"

It is the girl – Tonks, he recalls – he first met here. Her hair is pink once again. Dumbledore has told him that not all wizards or witches can do this, that she is special – and then he had said she was a very long word that Ele could not remember just now. He is grateful, at least, that no others will suddenly change their hair, though he would almost like the ability for himself. He could change his features back to normal, fix his hair, perhaps even make his ears right again –

He distantly realizes he should probably respond.

"Hallo, Tonks."

She says something else, very complicated and too fast for him to understand. He turns towards Dumbledore desperately. He thought he had cast the spell that allowed him to understand this morning, and indeed he had understood Dumbledore earlier... was it wearing off, or wearing out with too much use? Ele has no idea how such things work here.

"I'm sorry, but this spell is less effective the less the castor knows the person speaking, and it will be similarly hard for them to understand you. There are more comprehensive, exact language spells, but they have dangers. Often they leave you unable to comprehend your original language, and sometimes they leave you bereft of language skills at all. It is often better to learn without magic." Dumbledore explains.

"Oh. What did she say, then?" Ele asks.
"Only if you were feeling better, and how had you been, and what I am doing with you. Young Tonks, I am sure you have heard all that, judging from the puzzled expression on your face. Elesil is from a distant land, and he was unexpectedly sent here by magic. He has been separated from his guardians, and as he has no connections in this area, I decided to take him in until we can find a way to send him back to his own realm. It was very complicated, old magic, you see. In the meantime he will be attending Hogwarts."

She smiles brightly at him and jabbers away in her own tongue. Ele smiles tentatively back, catching a few words, but not enough to really understand. She is very loud, he thinks, and much too boisterous, but somehow he finds himself liking her.

"What did she say?" He asks Dumbledore.

"Tonks just graduated Hogwarts last year. She is assuring you that it is a very nice school."

Ele grimaces, and Tonks laughs. Ele cannot help but smile a little, at that. She has a very nice laugh, though it reminds him a bit of a hog's snorts. It makes him want to laugh himself. He thinks, wistfully, of Laranë. She had a beautiful, tinkling laugh.

She says something else, shorter this time, but very quick. He looks at Dumbledore pleadingly.

Dumbledore smiles. "She said, 'shall we?'" He translates. Ele's lips quirk upwards, a little, at Tonks, and she accompanies them through the ornate pillars, and then waves goodbye.

"I have to go get my schoolbooks," she explains, slowly, and he understands it all.
"Bye." Ele says, smiling.

Ele does not like the goblins very much.

He knows they are not like Middle-Earth goblins, but they still look pinched and mean and he does not like them, nor does he understand them. He glowers till they get to the very rickety-looking cart he is supposed to ride in.

Ele has been climbing trees his entire life, and the branches can get quite thin, but this is different.

"Do we have to ride in that?" He asks Dumbledore petulantly, shying away.

"I'm afraid there's no other way down." Dumbledore says, mirthful. Ele pouts but reluctantly climbs in.

Afterwards, Ele stubbornly refuses to acknowledge how much he'd enjoyed the ride, though Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly. It had been exhilarating and fun and for a moment he had even forgotten about where he was.

But now it's again painfully clear. The place they are in is claustrophobic and dirty, and Ele shivers. The unpleasant goblin that scowled at him the whole way down how opens an almost hidden door in the wall and suddenly all Ele can see is a huge pile of gold, taller than his new mannish form. Stunned, he enters the cavern – for it cannot really be called a room – and wonders at this strange world. Dumbledore had not mentioned that he was a prince here, too, and yet this room seems equal to Greenwood's hidden vaults, which Ele has seen only once. All his? The thought it ridiculous, insane. How could he ever use this much gold?

"The gold ones are galleons," Dumbledore says, holding up a huge coin, "the silver are sickles, and the bronze coins are knuts. There are 29 knuts to a sickle and 17 sickles a galleon. I'd advise you not to spend it all at once." He smiled kindly, and hands Ele a pouch.

Still overwhelmed, Ele picks up galleons one by one, but after about a minute of this he resorts to shoveling indiscriminate handfuls into the pouch. It is the most money he has ever had in his life.
"Shall we go?" Dumbledore says.
Ele nods, scanning the room. He would like to come back, and see if it is like his Ada's vault in other ways: if it has other treasures than this pile of coins. But for now he has had quite enough of this dark cavern.
~!=!~!=!~

After a brief wait in the lobby of Gringotts, Ele and Dumbledore are off to get their robes, a largely boring an uncomfortable affair. In quick succession, Dumbledore helps Ele pick up his books (Ele only wishes to understand the language; many of the covers seem fascinating), his potion supplies (which seem slightly gross), a cauldron, scales, a telescope, and a case in which to hold it all, which Dumbledore enchants with a lightening charm. "It won't last forever," He warns, "but for now it will be useful." They pass a strange shop selling brooms that are floating, and then visit a 'sweet shop'. Dumbledore insists on buying an assortment of the 'candies', though when Ele tastes one, it is ridiculously sugary, and he can't think why anyone would want so many. It almost makes him sick – it tastes good, perhaps, but it is simply too much, and he thinks with longing of food back home. He hasn't enjoyed a meal yet.

Finally, Dumbledore says, "I do believe that every student should have a pet. Have you had a pet before?"
"What is a pet?" Ele says absently.
"An animal that one keeps and takes care of." Dumbledore answers. "The most common at Hogwarts are owls, which carry letters, cats, and toads."
"Oh." Ele considers. "My horse, Luril. Would she count?" He misses her suddenly, her tan flanks, calming to rub down, and the way she felt under him as he galloped, his Ada ahead, laughing as they raced. But if he thinks about his Ada he will cry, so he shuts the thought away. He will not be a child in front of all these strange men. He will not. He will not think of the wind in his hair, dodging trees with expert skill...
"Yes, probably." Dumbledore interrupts, and Ele is grateful. He nods brusquely and pulls open the door.

The shopkeeper says something incomprehensible. Ele smiles in his direction and sorts through the bewildering mix of sounds; he cannot identify half of the noises he hears. Owls and cats and toads are evident en masse, indeed, but also snakes, brightly-colored birds he doesn't recognize, even insects and fish. These seem ridiculous: What could you do with a spider, a fish? But perhaps there is some reason he does not recognize behind these strange animals.

He walks around the shop slowly, trying to ignore the noise and the smell. Dumbledore follows silently. He is by the snakes and the toads when he hears a stranger sound than the hoots and hisses of the rest of the shop. "Stupid humans," a high, feminine voice says in Nandorin.

"What?" He replies, shocked.

"You speak?" The voice, amazingly, is coming from a small, bright blue snake, in a cage near the floor. This sentiment is echoed by the rest of the snakes in the store, a strange but beautiful sound against the cacophony of the rest of the store.

"I..." Ele can barely think. Snakes can speak Nandorin, though nothing else can? This world, already ridiculous, seems more and more impossible by the day. Perhaps the translation spell somehow works on snakes, as well?

"A parselmouth?" Dumbledore whispers, sounding shocked himself. "Ele... oh, no."

"What?" Ele says, scared and frustrated. "What is going on?"

"It is... nothing. Simply a very rare talent. You are speaking to the snakes in their own language. Perhaps you should buy a snake, in light of this discovery."
Ele thinks of being able to hear Nandorin every day, and smiles. "Yes... yes, I think I will." He examines the snakes, who all seem to wish to be taken away from the shop, but find none he likes half so well as the little blue snake who spoke first and has remained silent since. "Her, I think." He says, finally. She hisses happily, in wordless pleasure.

Dumbledore smiles. "Very well, then. One last stop, after we have paid for your new pet."

~$*#*$~

The last place they visit, Dumbledore tells him as they walk, is Ollivander's, for his wand. Wands, as Ele guessed, are a type of miniature staff, and as he walks he tries not to think of how all this is leading to becoming a wizard, how he is no longer an elf. The snake, still nameless, is a comforting weight around his wrist, but she does not say anything and Ele cannot decide if he is glad or not.

Even the entrance seems worn down, a single wand displayed, and when the wandmaker enters Ele can barely understand a word he says. "Sit down," He finally catches, and so he does. A strange, hovering device is held against all different parts of his body, and finally the man, eyes unnaturally huge and pale, hands him a stick. Uncertainly, Ele waves it, and the man snatches it back, saying something Ele cannot understand. It seems to take ages, the waves sparking a strange, wrong feeling and creating whirlwinds of chaos throughout the shop, before the man bustles away for longer than before and reappears, almost reverent, with a new stick. It seems no different than the last, but when he waves it he can feel his Ada's embrace, and a small, golden plant grows where he pointed the wand. The wandmaker smiles and babbles on, and Ele cannot help but smile, too, until he remembers where he is again and is lost to despair.
"Silly man," Hisses the snake, squeezing more tightly around his wrist, and that helps, a bit. Ele smiles politely and retreats, Dumbledore saying something Ele does not care to listen to to the man.

He has a trunk full of supplies, a new friend, and a strange wand, and all he wants is to go home again. Ele is tired, and the longer he spends in the strange world, the less he likes it. He is glad for his snake and the small seedling and perhaps even Tonks, but he just wants to go home, to Ada, to Larane, to the quiet of his favorite tree.

Dumbledore rejoins him. "That wand contains a feather from my phoenix, Fawkes, who gave one other feather, which, as it happens, chose Voldemort." Dumbledore looks very sad, and very old, and Ele does not understand why. He nods in acceptance. "Are we done?" He asks.

Dumbledore smiles tiredly. "Yes, Ele. We may go."

~* *~
Ele falls onto his makeshift bed, and sleeps.

He dreams of snakes, and wands, and Greenwood.