Chapter Text
Privet Drive was an odd place, no matter how normal its residents claim it to be. It used to be though, once, a long long time ago. More than a decade in fact, fourteen years to be precise. Yes, exactly fourteen years and two weeks and six days. Since Mr and Mrs Dursley moved into Number 4 Privet Drive. None noticed the strangeness though. It moved into their lives subtly as the whole street turned into a monotonous stretch of land.
Strangest of them all were with whom it started. The strangest thing about Mr and Mrs Dursley was how obsessed with normalcy they were. It would’ve creeped anyone out if it wasn’t for the enchantment that had been woven into the very being of the location.
But that was a tale of the past. Ever since Mrs Arabella Figg fell ill and moved into a care home, the strangeness had reduced somewhat but not fully gone. It meant nothing to Petunia Dursley though as she trimmed the bushes in her garden and stretched her long neck to try and find any gossip to fill her boring, normal day, everyday a week.
Today she was in a very good mood as she hummed and watered her flowers. She almost missed how one single black cat circled the street thrice over in just the last half an hour, its movement was not quite feline like but had quite determined grace of nobility. Petunia only noticed that the air around had grown too clammy for winter when a man stepped through the front gate.
“Who is it?” she asked as she wiped her hands on the apron.
“Madam,” the man who had stepped in drawled, “good morning. Why don't we go inside to talk?” He was dressed in a dark green suit and had an almost orange wavy hair that spilled over his shoulder. He gave her a dazzling smile and Petunia felt her heart melt and nodded.
“So, sir, who are you?” she once again enquired once they were in the living room and were seated across the tea table.
“No one you have to be worried for,” he said and much to Petunia’s shock, took out a wooden stick from his suit’s inner pocket. Before she could yell at him, he placed it on the table and taking the chance in her confusion, he muttered something that grated into her ear drums.
It wasn’t until much later, only after Mr Dursley returned from his firm, that he would find his wife dead and his son too in his room while he should’ve been in school, having not returned home during the winter break.
‘Mrs Dursley took him from school today.’ had said the Headmaster of Smeltings to the investigators. ‘She said it was a family emergency.’
Well, as it turned out from investigation, the Police marked it as a suicide and much grief to many old residants of Privet Drive, Mr Dursley got into a car accident from which he didn’t return.
And that marked the end of the strangeness of Privet Drive. Just like it had arrived all those years back, it disappeared into thin air, never to be found again and just like back then none of its residents noticed anything amiss.
***
Notes, melancholic and beautiful, filled the cold winter air of northern Scotland. Even the merriest of people celebrating New Year’s Eve could feel the inherent weariness woven deep into the music should they have heard it. A voice deep and terrible in its beauty accompanied the harp in the music.
“Ai! Aiwi lirlindar lutsilya súressë
Yéni vánier tantiláva métima lingane.
Horanen kólemánen, horië atammeldanya
Yavië vére carne melménen
Ló Elentári ainima
Lindië líri, cenië aldannava lantië lassi
Laurië ar laica, limbë ar linda
Valimacal mindane
I arma cendelësse nas lauca ar amalda,
Linda ar laurëa ve Airenlda.
I isilmë cendelësse nas ringa ar ercëa
Telperin ar nelmëa Tillioncálë.
Calimel atintilar
Ve entar úya ar nöa öávie
Ar hopáva nin as Aiwi ar aldar ar mármenya.”
Each line was drawn long until the notes blended in with each other and although three of the four children sitting in the nearest balcony, straining their ears to catch the music, knew not of the meaning of the words, they too grew weary. Neither did they speak lest the environment shatter like frozen ice shatter to the slightest touch of fingers.
There was an interlude of just the harp repeating its notes before halfway through a lute join it in music. The two instruments played for long before the words flowed again.
“Ai! Aiwi lirlindar quantië ómaltainen súressë
Enwa yéni avánier tantaes salma.
Horanen salmanantulë, línëa ar kólenca
Hyáma véren na tennoio uracina
Hyáma Tintallën tankatalye si
Maitëa lairi cëna aldarlma lauya
Enwina ar lumba, túra ar turca.
Tirioncálë nas calima
Nén nas luinë ar túra tenta
Taniquetil nas fána ar tára
Corollairë nas naira
Ar hopáva er uolië mintie atarirmen.”
Another voice joined as the lute halted. It was deeper than before and carried the same pain that filled the first one. When the four’s eyes had filled with tears they didn’t notice, nor did they notice when they were joined by the two adults, all eyes set on the floating pavilion in the middle of the frozen lake, roof covered in light snow where the two minstrels sang and played their lovely instruments.
“What was it?” Sirius had whispered when the music faded away into the air. “It was like I could see everything in my head.” It was a bright green field, illuminated by not sun but what seemed like two great trees — Gold and Silver — in a far horizon and a city bright silver with towering towers and grand domes across a stream right before him. Magnificent it was and almost hypnotic to his mind and rest of the company felt the same as none answered his questions for a long while and even Remus was silent and his eyes glassy, trailing the two tall figures leaving the pavilion and walking straight to the keep in a slow pace and leaning on each other often. The little moonlight that shone upon them illuminated their hair and fine clothing. All was glittering silver, beautiful and complimenting their fine features well.
Only a month and how their lives had changed in such a small time, thought Sirius. And he did feel quite embarrassed about his first interaction with many of these. But past was past he was told and he liked it this way. Without the burden of carrying any guilt. And seeing his Godson alive and well also lessened the grief and guilt he held for chasing after Peter while leaving behind Harry.
“Does he sing often?” Remus asked when he found his voice. In his mind, the image of a grand river and a city fair and so bright that would dwarf the grandest of human creation was etched. He could almost hear music gliding in the air and weaving enchantment all around.
“Not enough,” answered Lómëar. “He… he hates singing sometimes.”
“Uncle hates singing most of the time if it is not for his classes or for us personal lessons,” corrected Theo. “I wish he would play his harp often. It’s very beautiful.”
“Well, he received his mother-name for it, didn't he? It’s natural that the sound of his harp is golden.” Lómëar was evidently very proud of his father. Sirius felt a pang in his heart that the same couldn’t be said for how his godson felt about James and Lily.
While Maglor had raised his son with as much truth as the child’s age could allow, he had never come across the Potters in their life nor did he know them personally. So his stories about them were as bare as the newspaper’s description of them. Only when Minerva was let know of the truth that the child got to know the stories of their school-life and afterwards. But even she couldn’t know how deep James and Lily’s love ran for their son. Sirius had been there, even after they went into hiding. He had seen the love sparkle in their eyes when even Remus wasn’t there. He loved his brother very much though sometimes Sirius wished that they left any indication of the change in their Secret-keeper. Still, it didn’t lessen the love Sirius held for his brother in all but blood.
Sirius hadn’t gotten to talk to Harr – Lómëar heart to heart yet and he doubted he would get the chance anytime soon. The boy had been all protective of his father (despite the fact that Maglor could protect himself alone well, probably better than anyone else here) since Sirius pointed his wand at the elf. Sirius didn’t blame him as Lómëar wasn’t hostile at him, just closed off. Remus had told him earlier that their friend’s son remembered them, not clearly but enough to not have all the walls up around them. How he got the information, Sirius didn’t know and didn’t probe for answers as he was afraid not all of it was true.
A child’s voice brought him out of his reverie. Being closest to the doorway he looked back to see Aaron’s sister. “Have the fireworks started yet?” Elizabeth peaked out of the hallway. She was in her night dress and clearly just woke up, maybe from a well-set alarm to not miss the New Year Fireworks.
Before Sirius could tell her that she was just in time as his clock told him they would strike midnight in a few minutes, Aaron decided to comment on her sleep schedule. And just like that, with a light bickering about staying up between the siblings, Aaron bidded goodnight to his companions to take her back to finish her sleep.
Adrian soon followed suit, saying he had seen it many times and was tired (Theo guessed though that he just wanted to go and annoy Mr Everill once more and maybe because he felt the rising words in others’ throats that he had no privy to) and then there were only the four of them on the balcony, watching the empty fields as both the singing minstrels had vanished somewhere.
Theo averted his gaze to the light of the first firework as the grand clock of Rockwell Keep struck midnight. But from the corner of his eye he could see his cousin fidgeting under the gaze of his godfather and acting as if he was watching the fireworks too. Sirius didn’t even notice his own prolonged gaze until Remus elbowed him.
“So do you kids want me to show you around here tomorrow?” Sirius asked, nervously.
“If Mr Black wants to, I would like to –” Theo began.
“No,” Lómëar said almost immediately, not even turning to the man and the faint light in Sirius’ eyes dimmed.
“Haha. That’s alright… I guess you guys won’t enjoy spending time with a seven year old anyway.” He excused himself hastily, leaving Remus to follow him out too.
The moment the adults left them, Theo flicked Lómëar’s ear. “You could’ve been nicer about it.”
“He tried to curse atto,” Lómëar muttered, “He would’ve if the others weren’t there.”
“And uncle would've cursed him tenfold,” Theo stated, utterly unimpressed, “What’s else in your mind, Lírëar?”
Lómëar hesitated. “Let’s go back to our room first,” he said finally, “I don’t want anyone to overhear.”
Theo had agreed straightaway but also decided to place a small charm on the door as they slipped in to make sure no one barged in. Not even their parents because as caring and understanding they might be, they still were far removed from their time and experiences and they were also very very nosy.
“So what?” asked Theo once they both sat down on the soft bedding. The only light in the room was from the crescent moon hanging in the sky and the occasional fireworks, making the room seem closed off and shadowy for most parts.
Lómëar took a deep breath, still hesitating before voicing what he had in mind. “I try to hate him for offering the secret keeper change thing… but I can’t. His plan had no flaw. How could they know that their friend was a betrayer, right? I was all okay with him returning, you know when the news came out? Atto told me he wouldn’t let Black take me away so I was fine with it. But then he tried to curse Atto and…” he trailed off. “I just want them to get alone, you know?” he drawed his knees and hid his face.
“I think they already get along okay since Mr Black realized his mistake fast,” Theo said consolingly, “Adults are just very very weird about letting go of grudges and awkward about everything.” Theo had very much exasperated the last part and it worked for most parts.
Lómëar snorted, without a shroud of dignity that maglor had been attempting to install in him for years now. “Right, right. Just like Atto is around Ada.”
“Have you called him that yet?”
“Not yet,” Lómëar admitted, “but I think tomorrow I will when Atto plans to formally introduce us to Master Daeron.”
“That sounds like a plan,” said Theo and his cousin agreed.
***
The said plan for next day was apparently them taking leave from the hospitality of Rockwell Keep much to both Theo and Adrain’s disappointment. But thankfully for whatever reason Daeron had decided to tag along (maybe to keep Maglor company for Maedhros’ mood seemed down since last night and he had an unusual crease in his forehead). It would work well, or even better if you ask Lómëar. Afterall, he himself may have been hesitant to speak in such a way in front of two old, still strangers; but here with only his close family, it would go quite well and he had no shame.
They took the leave after a light breakfast. The Knight Bus was called to the town square of the magical settlement Rockwell Keep looked over as Maedhros still very much hated travelling by Floo.
Not that the Knight Bus was any better if you ask Lómëar. It was in fact quite worse as it was far longer of an affair and almost equally torturous. The two kids had just taken seats across each other near the middle while Maglor and Daeron were waiting in the narrow aisle for Maedhros to finish paying the fare for the five of them (three galleons and four sickles, Lómëar heard Stan Shunpike, the bus conductor, mutter) when the bus started and for a bumpy ride they were in for. Both the elves would have fallen on their face had they not held a steel pillar for support. For some reason that made them giggle like some upperclassmen Lómëar had seen being dragged by a professor from an empty alcove or classroom. It was really confusing, but seeing as his cousin too was busy, trying to see where his father went and that the two elves had sat down across the aisle,seemingly lost in each others’ eyes, it looked like a great time to enact his words into motion.
With quite a determination, Lómëar turned to them. Studying their reddened ears and the small rare smile on his father's face, he grinned. Then he leaned onto the armrest and whispered very very innocently, “Atto, when will you give Ada the hairclip you carved for him?” At the last endearment, he had thrown a glance at Daeron who was still lost in Maglor’s eyes.
It took a few moments for the words to register in Maglor’s mind, For Dearon longer still and only after Maglor’s face turned the color of the sigil sewn into his robe that he understood it too. But before either could respond (or in Maglor’s case, scold him), the bus came to a halt with a screech of tires and a lurch so hard that all four had fallen forward. Lómëar and Theo groaned at the light impact while Maglor helped them up. The two elves were graceful despite the fall and composed themselves before even the door opened. A salty sea breeze rushed inside, filling Lómëar’s nostrils. It was freezing cold and he wondered if the clothing they wore would suffice against it. Before he could dwell on it further or voice it, Daeron gently guided him ahead where surprisingly with no visible distress from magical travel methods that are usually etched on his face, Maedhros spoke heartily with the conductor. They seemed to have a nice conversation as Maedhros looked slightly reluctant to bid farewell to Stan though it might just be because of their destination today. Once they all were down to the rocky beach that looked over the endless grey ocean, the bus slipped away just as fast as it had arrived.
“So how are we going to get there?” Daeron asked what was in Lómëar’s mind too.
“How did you two use to get there?” Maedhros asked back.
“On boat,” Maglor replied. “But it won’t do this time. I say we should just apparate.”
“That sounds good. It’s still how it was last time, right?” This last question was to Maglor to which the latter had nodded. “I will do so with Linsírё then,” Maedhros declared. Without waiting for any response, he extended his palm to his son which Theo accepted very happily.
With a crack, they disappeared. “That’s our cue I suppose?” Daeron teased.
“He is just very excited to go back,” Maglor said, sighing, “Hold my hand tightly alright, yonya? It’s quite far.”
Lómëar nodded and tightened his grips on both the elves’ arms (when did he grab Daeron’s arm?). “Further than we ever went by apparition, Atto?” he asked.
“Yes. But it would be alright,” Maglor comforted and with a twist and the familiar tugging sensation in his belly button, they disappeared from the spot too.