Down in The Underground

1852

Summary: After losing the last remnant of his family in his fifth year, Harry decided enough was enough. That summer he left England behind to explore the country side of the emerald isle. Feeling the pull on his tattered magic and soul, Harry discovers a world long forgotten.

Disclaimer: We don't own Harry Potter, The Magical World of the Leprechauns,or any works by Mercedes Lackey. They belong to their respective writers. We are just playing in their worlds. Please don't sue us.

p.s. If you do not recognize a character it is a good chance it is an OOC and I made him up.

Again, special thanks to Miriam1 for her excellent editing skills.

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A/N: This is a crossover of HP and the mini-series: The Magic World of the Leprechauns (a made for TV mini-series), plus some elements from The SERRAted Edge and The Bedlam Bard series by Mercedes Lackey tossed in. This isn't a true triple crossover. I just like how Miss Lackey portrayed high elves and wanted to use hers, thus the shout out to her.

Definitions for some of the terms used in this chapter can be found at the bottom.

Lastly, this is the first story I've written without Frau. I was telling her this story while she was recovering from her first heart attack, just before she finally passed away from heart failure, as I was planning on writing it during NaNoWr for 2017. Frau liked to work on only one story at a time, so now it is time to bring it out.

So please bear with myself and Miriam1. – GF

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Down in the Underground

Chapter 1

A young, dusty teen-aged boy walked down a curved, dirt cart path; to call it a road was being magnanimous. In his opinion, it was a cart trail, plain and simple, in spite it being called a local road. He hadn't seen so much as a car, bicyclist or another walker like him since he turned onto this so-called road ten kilometers back. But now, it seemed the right path to take.

The teen was covered in dust and sweat from the walk and the noon day sun. Seeing ahead, he noted a group of tall oaks to one side of the path. It looked as good a place to stop for a bit of lunch and a rest as any. He knew he was still too far from the nearest town to stop for the day.

Sitting in the shade of the largest of the oaks, the teen sighed as he dug out his lunch of fresh baked bread, a small wheel of cheddar, and an apple which he had bought that morning at the hostel he had managed to get a bed in last night.

Although he did have enough money on him, he knew he had to stay under the radar until he was ready to be found. Hostels, for the most part, were clean and communal, and best of all, cheap. They also had the best information on travel destinations.

Anyone looking for him would not think to check them.

The tired teen took a deep breath as his gaze lazily roamed over the Irish countryside.

He was free.

Free from those who wanted to control his life.

Free from his relatives who wanted nothing to do with him.

Free.

All he had to do was physically leave Surrey, England behind him.

He had been traveling the Irish countryside for almost a week, feeling a pull that he couldn't understand. The moment he had stepped off the ferry at Wexford, his magic was telling him that he needed this adventure; he just couldn't understand why it had to be this way.

He had been staying in small bread and breakfasts or hostels for travelers as he wandered. The few times he couldn't, he stayed in the small wizard tent that he had managed to purchase before he left.

After he cleaned up the leftovers of his lunch, the teen settled back for a bit of a kip.* The summer sun was bright, the weather was warm, and the shade of an old oak offered respite as he settled against its bark. So what if he didn't make it to the next town? That was what the tent was for.

He was in no hurry to be someplace, anyways, and it wasn't a full moon.

Looking up into the leafy boughs, he smiled as he offered the last of his water to the tree's roots. "Thank you for letting me rest here," he whispered as sleep claimed him.

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The ancient spirit of the old oak known as an 'oakshee' looked down at the strange young human that had decided to use his tree for a noon day repast with a huff.

The tree spirit could feel that the exhausted wizard's magic leaking through his poorly-trained shield, feeding his roots along with the last of his water.

'Well, at least 'e was bein' polite,' the ancient being mused. The leaked magic flowed into his root system for a most-needed nourishment. The problem the oakshee noticed was that the lad's magic was tainted with pain and loss. He sighed as he shook his leafy head, feeling a bit sorry for the lad.

Suddenly, in the distance, the oakshee's attention was drawn to the shouts of "YEEEHHHAAAAAWWWW!"

Looking over in the nearby field, the large tree spirit saw three sheep racing across the meadow. Nothing unusual there. Young lambs were always kicking up their heels. What was strange was that there were small riders on their backs, urging the sheep to go faster.

'Ahhhh looks like Mickey 'n his friends 're at it again,' the spirit mused with a chuckle. 'They're just good laddies. Always up for a chat or a prank. Not like those snooty trooping fairies.'

The bleating of sheep and calls of yeehaws brought the spirit out of his musing.

"Dia duit*," called one of the small people leaning on the head of one of the sheep, looking curiously up at the oak spirit.

"Who's that?" came another voice from one of the other sheep pointing to the sleeping human.

"Dia is Muire duit," the oakshee called back. "Tis a wee troubled soul who decided to rest under my shade. Leave him be, boyos. He's not hurtin' anythin' 'nd is sharin' his troubled magic with me roots and givin' me a good feedin'."

The taller of the little folk jumped from the back of his sheep to the wooden fence rail not far from the oak and walked along the edge before hopping up unto the stone fence line. He had red hair, mostly hidden under a woolen cap, and he wore a green plaid coat and brown pants that ended at the knees.

"He looks young."

"That he does, Micky Muldoon, that he does. You leprechauns leave him be," the oakshee warned, again.

"Magical, ya say?"

"That he is," came a woman's voice from above. "I have been expecting him for some time. His name's Harry James Potter and he's been called here for a reason."

Micky and his friends, as well as the oak tree, studied the black-clad newcomer hovering above them.

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An acorn fell on Harry's head and landed in his lap, waking the teen out of his rest.

Looking up, he peered into large amber eyes that blinked down at him. The tree had a face that smiled and spoke, giving a wave of its branches. "Kwe – eee."

Beside him, Harry could hear the tittering of laughter as he tried to sit up.

The teen blinked, giving the tree-like being a slight wave. "Uh? Hi?"

"Well, boyo, dia duit. And I dinn't think ta see the likes of ya before."

Harry leaned his head back further to look up at the bark-lined face. "Sorry. I'm Harry. Harry James. I hope you don't mind me resting here?"

The oakshee gave a smile as the leprechauns gave a knowing look which Harry missed.

"Oh, he doesn't mind, as long as people didn't abuse his hospitality or damage his tree," came a small male voice beside him.

Harry jumped and scooted away from the tiny being by his knee.

"Nyahhhh. It's fine. We oakshees don't get much in the way of company," the tree spirit explained, moved a tree limb as if to give a shrug. "Ya look like ya travel far. So it's fine. Sit, and iffen ya was so inclined, tell your tale. The boyos and I don't mind."

Harry remembered his studies from his classes at Hogwarts. Oakshees were magical trees found mostly in Ireland. They were benign beings, unless you harm their trees. Beside him lounging on the grass were three small beings that could only be . . .

"You're leprechauns, aren't you? You aren't going to curse me are ya?" Harry asked, looking down at the red-haired being beside him.

"Are ya after our gold?" asked another one from Harry's other side.

Harry jumped back against the trunk of the tree. "Uh, no. Everyone knows it disappears after a couple of hours." He knew from experience, besides - what he wanted, you couldn't buy, anyways.

The four leprechauns smiled as they jumped up onto Harry's knees.

"Fair enough," the tall one with the woolen cap agreed. "I'm Micky Muldoon and these are my friends – Sean Divine, Jericho o'Grady and his younger brother, Barney. Welcome to our lands," he introduced, pointing each one out. They gave a doff of the hat salute back to Harry's nod.

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A/N: Those that are very much into the history and mythology of fairies and leprechauns know that "The Magical World of the Leprechauns" was a made for television mini-series – pure fantasy. There are so many things wrong with that movie, I don't know where to begin to untangle it. However, barring that, I did enjoy a good version of Romeo and Juliet.

A note of interest: I couldn't tell where or which country of Ireland – North or Republic the movie was supposed to be set in. So forgive any reality slips.

However, as in any good crossover, there is a story that can be told if you are creative enough.

Kip – English slang for a nap

Hostel – They are cheap accommodations shared by travelers, especially when compared to staying in a hotel. When a guest books a stay in a hostel, he or she typically books a bed for the night, not a room. The guest's bed may be in a room with four other travelers, or in a room with up to twenty travelers. They tend to lend to more interaction, cost much less than a hotel, but do not provide the privacy or personal service found at a hotel.

In Ireland hostels can run about $15 to $35 U.S, per night.

Oakshee – is a fairy tree. Ents from Lord of the Rings are a good example of an oakshee.

Dia duit – Irish for hello, God to you

Dia is Muire duit – is the correct response for the above greeting which means: God and Mary to you.