Strange Magic

By Kelso Queen of Genovia

Rated- T (For language; naturally, I love cussing, especially in my writings!)

Disclaimer- Someone else's sandbox, I just get to play here (as much as nursing school allows me to anyway…) I do own Elizabeth, but honestly, I don't think anyone wants to reuse an OC, otherwise we wouldn't have fanfiction, lol.

A/N- I had originally posted this back in 2004 or 2005, not sure which year…either way, it was long ago, before I had really developed a knack for writing, and it was before anyone besides J.K. Rowling herself knew how the Harry Potter series would end. Now that the loose ends have been tied up there, I considered taking another look at this story after all these years, so here we go. I can't guarantee that this is free from errors, since my beta reader is off going over things for my actual novel. This is just a project for my free time. I'm always welcome for suggestions and constructive criticism, so please R&R!

Chapter One

I suppose the world was still getting used to living without fear. Naturally, dark wizards and death eaters were always going to prominent, but even they had to admit that their backbone had been destroyed. And although it seemed everyone had played their part in the Final Battle, we had the Golden Trio to thank; not just for our lives, but for our freedom.

Lord Voldemort's growing regimen was in terrifying comparison with Nazi Germany; despite being a pure blood, I've knowledge of two different histories; something that often times confuses my friends from Hogwarts. My father never lived to witness the end of the nightmare Voldemort caused, and my mum and I lived in constant fear. I was never not worried about her; as an auror, her life was always on the line, and I dreaded that a day would come when she wouldn't come home from work. But she always did, and always managed to come out of scrapes alive. "The surprise attacks at the Ministry are my favorite." She would often muse to me, which always caused me to chuckle with her. We both knew it was no joking matter, but at the time, we couldn't let our spirits dampen.

It was at the beginning of my sixth year at Hogwarts that I was sent away from our home in London, which was one of the most horrifying days of my life. The war was spreading beyond the borders of the wizarding world. Muggles were disappearing left and right, most of them turning up dead at some point, always from mysterious causes (only to other Muggles; when reading about them in the newspaper, Mum and I were well aware of what was happening.) Mum was very close to Kingsley Shacklebolt, and it was from him she had gotten the advice to send me away. I wasn't supposed to know why, but I eavesdropped on their conversation late one night.

"Umbridge has us all down at the top of her list, Vivienne. Moody was killed a week ago when they moved the Potter boy from Surrey. This is the same warning I'm giving to all the members of the Order; hide yourselves."

Of course, being an auror, Mum refused. In fact, I don't think any members from the Order of the Phoenix went into hiding, despite Kingsley's warning. However, when it came to me, everything was different. The next morning, Mum had me sent by train to an old house in the country side. I was not alone; The Chang's had sent their daughter, a fellow Ravenclaw, there as well. Cho and I ran, for the most part, ran with the same group, but had never been too close. Never really sure why.

But back to the present. The war was over, and I was reunited with my mother once more in London. The summer was coming to an end, and I would begin my 7th year. At least, I would have one year to actually enjoy, rather than watching my back every time I stepped out into a corridor. Then I remember with a slight chuckle that Draco Malfoy wouldn't be there. That was comforting. However, I would miss Harry and Hermoine. They had been good friends, always optimistic and willing to lend a hand. It was difficult to imagine them not being there.

Yes, perhaps this would be a quiet year; the first Hogwarts will have seen in years. How very wrong I was.

Luna and I had just excused ourselves after the banquet and were walking into the corridor when Prof. McGonagall appeared directly in front of us.

"Good evening, Professor. It was terribly nice of you to put extra pudding on the Ravenclaw table."

The old professor's eyes lit up as she nodded to you blonde. "No trouble at all, Miss Lovegood. But if I may, I wish to speak to Miss Thames alone."

Luna glanced at me indifferently. "That's her saying in a nice way that I'm not needed here. I'll see you in the Tower, Lizzie."

Once Luna had rounded a corner, the professor took a few steps towards me. "Miss Thames, it's good to see you recovered so well. Madame Pomfrey found healing your wrist extraordinarily difficult to mend last spring."

I only gave her a half-smile. Truth was, it still wasn't fully healed, and caused me great pain after spell casting for a while. It had been suggested that I use my left hand from now on to hold my wand, but I didn't feel comfortable with it as such. "Thank you, professor. My wound was minuet compared to what happened to many others."

Both of our eyes darkened as we attempted to push away terrible memories of the night when Voldemort attacked the school. The pain was still too near, and this was neither the time nor the place to talk about it.

"I won't waste much more of your time this evening, but I ask that you come by my office first thing tomorrow morning. Take this," she handed to a small dark green satchel, "and pack into all your things; clothes, books, especially books…"

I looked at her quizzical, and then understood. It was enchanted, so it would be bottomless. But why in the bloody hell would I need this? With my mouth hanging open, I began to question her when she held a wrinkled hand up to silence me. "No tonight, Elizabeth. All of your questions will be answered promptly in the morning. Do as I've requested."

I stood for a moment, looking at her as if she were insane. Perhaps she was just as mad as Dumbledore had been? Finally, I walked past her and continued walking until I had trudged through Ravenclaw Tower and up to my bed. Luckily, my sudden change in mood went unnoticed to everyone except The Grey Lady, who assumed I simply wasn't feeling well after the feast. Sleep did not find me that night, and when I finally decided to leave my bed at dawn, it was evident by the dark circles under my eyes.

I was almost glad when I saw that McGonagall had not changed anything in Professor Dumbledore's office. Well, I suppose it belonged to her now. When I entered, I saw her hovering over his pensieve. She appeared deep within her own thoughts, and I was certain she had not heard me enter. "I assure you, it's rude to lurk in doorways, Miss Thames."

I felt my face go red as I scurried away from the entrance. She turned and raised on eyebrow at me, eyeing the dark green satchel I had clutched in my hand. I was waiting for an explanation. "I will tell you all that I know, Miss Thames. If you have further questions, I'm afraid they must go unanswered. Please," she gestured as she sat down her desk, "have a seat."

I moved quickly from where I was standing and plopped down in the chair across from her. I felt incredibly nervous under her hawk-like stare. "As you are well aware, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter- who we owe our lives to- have finished their school careers. All three of them are settled into very well-off positions with the Ministry, and I have no doubt they are doing their very best for the Wizarding World."

I only nodded in response, having absolutely no idea how the Golden Trio had anything to do with why I was here. "With two of the brightest students of their age having already passed through our doors, it's time that we turn our eyes to creating similar pupils. I do not mean to disrespect the standards this school has in place on the students, Miss Thames. I mean to say simply that some are more adept to magic than others."

Before I remembered I was talking to the Head of Gryffindor House, I could have sworn this conversation was turning towards blood ties. Thankfully, I was wrong. "Your OWLS scores matched Hermione Granger's just one year after she completed hers. And am I correct in assuming you spent less time studying for them?"

I made no reply, because we both knew the answer. Hermione threw her back into her studies; I hardly ever cracked open my text books, especially if it meant studying for standardized tests. The old witch continued. "Your mother was, and still is, a bright witch. You've inherited your knack for defensive magic from her, to my understanding…"

"Professor, what is this all about?"

Her face broke out into a smile. "I am building up to that, Miss Thames." She stood up from the desk and approached the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, which portrayed him sleeping in a chair. "Professor Dumbledore knew many things. Things unfathomable. While he wanted to offer his assistance to those he cared for, he knew he could only offer them to an extent. He never forgave himself for your father's death, Elizabeth. We lost so many of our finest witches and wizards during that time, and it is an absolute shame you were never able to know him, like the rest of us did. Daeron was brilliant, in every sense of the word. It would only make sense for his only child to be just as such." Her ancient eyes turned and looked back at me. In them, there was a pain I could only vaguely understand. "Has Vivienne ever told you of your father's origins?"

I thought for a moment, searching my memory. In all honesty, no. I knew zero to nothing about my father, only that Bellatrix LeStrange had completely obliterated his existence. May that hag be burning in the lowest point of Hell. I shook my head in response. The professor sighed before continuing.

"Well, it will certainly make my job of explaining this no easier." She walked slowly back over to the desk, considering her words as she walked. After she sat back down, there were several moments of silence.

"Daeron was not of our world, Miss Thames."

I blinked, completely unaware of what she meant.

"He never studied here, I'm afraid; he would have been much too old to have been able to. But to my knowledge, he remembered when the school was built…"

"Professor, you can't be serious!"

She seemed stunned by my sudden outburst, but maintained her composure. "Pray, let me continue. Our time is limited."

I tried to relax in the chair once more, concentrating very hard on what she was telling me.

"Daeron was from a place called Middle Earth. Professor Dumbledore knew its ties to our world better than I did, and he never bothered to explain it to me. Bathilda Bagshot used to argue until she was blue in the face that the Dumbledores themselves most likely originated from there, but I'm getting off subject. Your father was born in a place called Mirkwood, a wood elf realm, and indeed, that is what he was. Have you ever wondered why your ears have a slight point?"

I unconsciously raised a hand to stroke my left ear, but brought it back down when I realized what I was doing. "Not really. I just assumed everyone had their quirks. Harry had a lightning bolt scar, Ron had flaming red hair. No one is perfect."

The professor chuckled as she considered me for a moment. "Daeron came to us around the time Tom Riddle was a 7th year. With him, he brought troubling news of an evil power coming from his home land, which after significant study, it was believed that it was also stemming here. It would be over 50 years before we would be able to rid ourselves of it. Before your father died, he asked Dumbledore to one day tell you the truth, about everything. But, as you can see, I have had to step into that position."

I sat quietly, digesting her words, and unable to formulate my own. "Why are you telling me all of this now, Professor?"

The slight grin that had been on her face disappeared in a flash. "While our world has been able to rid itself of its dark lord, Middle Earth is failing to do so."

"There's another dark lord?" My God, you would think they would have given up the act already and accept defeat. Wasn't Voldemort's example enough to throw up a white flag?

"I'm afraid so." She opened a desk drawer, and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment. "I received a letter from Lord Elrond of Rivendell, another elven realm, that the services of our finest were badly needed."

I nodded, finally comprehending everything. "I'm sure the trio will be more than pleased. Maybe they've grown tired of the quiet life."

However, it seemed I had missed the point entirely. "No, Miss Thames. You are the only child of Daeron, one of Middle Earth's greatest elven wizards. I'm afraid we can ask no more from 'the trio', as you call them. They have fulfilled what was set down in the prophecies for them. Now, it seems it is your turn."

She stood up and walked away from the desk, paying no attention to the fact that I was gaping at her. "Are you mad? I've no experience with this. I survived one battle, sure, but I can't do this. Surely there's a member of the order who would be better equipped…"

"They don't want someone else, Miss Thames," she spoke loud enough to overcome my tirade, "Lord Elrond specifically asked for you."

My mouth went dry. How was I going to talk my way out of this? "But he doesn't even know me. He has no idea if I'm even capable of helping!" I leapt up from my chair and followed her to where she stood in the middle of the room

"He knew your father quite well, as it were. And as it happens, he is expecting you this morning, at his house in Rivendell. Which is why I had you pack your things." She gestured to the satchel, which I realized I was clutching very tightly. "You did not forget anything did you?"

I weakly shook my head. "What if I decline this opportunity?"

She held my stare for several moments before speaking, and then a grin broke out onto her face once more. "Consider this worth 100% of your grade."

My jaw nearly hit the floor, but before I could argue, she had pushed me rather roughly backwards into the giant stone fireplace. Within a split second, the professor, the office, and the school had disappeared, and when everything finally stopped spinning, I found myself standing inside of a fire place, which was built into a very elegant, opened room. Directly in front of me, a man with long dark hair and a bemused expression welcomed me.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Elizabeth Thames."