It is a 199 year old Harry, on his 200th Summer, that Harry James Potter-Black is forcefully ejected from this world. That's not to say he was killed, or banished, no, but he had no choice in leaving so late and so suddenly. Not that he would have argued, no, not when he is an old weary man who still has demands made of him. Still made demands of the most powerful wizard in Britain, even if he is old and blind and tired and nearing his end, pushing his loved ones aside after death to push more on him. No, Harry would not have argued it in the slightest.

What he would argue against is how and why they had done it.

As the boy who lived lay in his bed, on the hottest day of the short year, he cried silvery tears, his magic copying and bleeding out Remembrance. Dancing memories of his youngest child's life glittered in his tears, little Albus, who had died one year prior. A long life to be sure, but Harry was tired of putting his children to rest while he stayed behind.

Slowly, Harry could feel himself fading. The world wanted him for one more year, and he knew he'd live through it for them, always adhering to their wishes, but no more. Once his 200th birthday passed, so would he.

However, it is as he sleeps, not an hour after those thoughts cross his mind, that he is visited by someone he hadn't seen since the battle of Hogwarts. It comes to him with nary a sound, drifting through the walls of his large, empty home, a cold chill following in its wake. If Harry had been conscious to see it, he may have drawn the power for a Patronus.

The figure stopped at his bedside, a decaying, skeletal hand hovering over his chest, but instead of perhaps his soul, or very life leaving the elder, out of his chest came a dusty, dirt stained old hourglass of brass, the few grains of sand remaining dropping one by one at a sluggish pace. The creature then turned the object on its head, watching intently as it rushed back into the top at an absurd speed.

In but an instant, Harry's hourglass had been refilled, and with surprisingly hesitant hands, hard bones grasped the hourglass, pulling it towards itself. The Wizard's steadily raising and falling chest stilled.

Swiftly, the brass was cleaned, rust removed, surface polished, and only once it was pristine once more did bones remove the bottom of the glass. Sand poured out of this creature's sleeve, quickly adjusted to pour into the empty space in the hourglass. Thus, with both ends full, it replaced the glass and brass, and watched as the Wizard's breaths resumed at a far less laborious pace.

Slowly, the wrinkles on Harry's face began to recede, youth coming back to his squared jaw, especially as the inky blackness returned to his greyed hair. It stopped, however, before he could be called 'young'. This creature did not want its chosen to be discredited simply due to the shallowness of men. Though it supposed it didn't matter in the end; the boy would show them all, however he appeared.

A chilling laugh, deep and slow filled the air, and Death put its hands on the boy's shoulders, marking the skin underneath black as though coated in ink. It hoisted the man into a seated position, letting him bow forward to gravity, and wrote a single line of Latin between his shoulder blades. Just as it seemed Death was finished, a light shone in the doorway, and it seemed to heave a heavy sigh before disappearing in a whisp of black sand.

From the doorway appeared a golden figure who eyed the position Harry Potter was left in oddly, long hair spilling over its shoulder as its head tilted to the side. The figure was uncovered and practically glowing, but even with its face in view and its naked body out in the open, it was impossible to give it a gender. Indeed, this entity, despite the feminine face, yet flat chest, lacked genitalia to distinguish it, and it was far from human enough to care for categories.

The figure glided forward much like death had, carding a gentle hand through Harry's short hair. A glow as golden and cold as its own enveloped the boy, and it frowned, waiting with its hand on the back of his neck. Waiting, waiting, until the gold turned to an odd, warm black, which prompted a wide smile.

'/Harry James Potter-Black/' the figure's lips didn't move, but a melodic, androgynous voice filled the air around the two, golden eyes shining brightly. '/Boy who lived. Man who conquered. Hero of Britain. The Most Powerful Wizard in England/' That gentle hand carded through Harry's hair again, the occasional hair shimmering in that bright golden color briefly. One lock twisted around the being's slim fingers, twisting together into a golden braid, glowing in contrast to the Wizard's black warmth. '/Hadrian the Black/'

The long ears on the creature perked upwards, hearing something no one else could, and its face turned sad. '/farewell my darling child/' with the familiar popping of Apparition, Harry was alone again, slouched forward on his bed, appearing years younger, and feeling even more spry.

He'd have a sore back when he awoke in Bree, but that would be the least of his worries.

Hello o/

I'm well aware that I have a million other things to be writing now, and like many of them this probably won't go anywhere, but I wrote it so I'm posting it!

I'm actually writing a bit of my own thing right now, so I'm mostly writing this to get it out of my system. If you see anything called Dragonkin on Tumblr, that would be mine :3 though I have like no followers, SO YEAH

Anyways yes. Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings. I'll probably cave to temptation and make it Harry/Legolas (if I get that far), but you never know uvu.

Also I'm posting from my phone so I hope it doesn't get messed up!