Frodo and Harry

Chapter 1: Many Meetings

Sitting in by the fireside in the Gryffindor common room, three fifth-year Hogwarts students were discussing their options for the evening.

"Let's go to Hogsmeade!" said Ron.

"What, tonight?" asked Hermione.

"Why not? We haven't been allowed to go since You-Know-Who turned up again. I'm getting stir-crazy. Harry's got his Marauder's Map and his Invisibility Cloak. Why not sneak out? A fun Friday night at the pub, what do you say, Harry?"

Harry smiled. He had been feeling a bit restless lately, too. The school year so far had been like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing had happened; he was tired of being careful. "Why not!" he said. "Let's go." He swept up his Map and Cloak and the three of them tiptoed down the stairs, feeling most delightfully naughty. They headed for the third-floor corridor, where a statue of a one-eyed witch provided a convenient secret passageway to Hogsmeade.

"Uh-oh," said Harry. On the Marauder's Map he pointed to a little dot, labeled Snape. It was coming from the third floor and moving directly towards them. "Let's go outside, instead, and make for the Whomping Willow entrance to Hogsmeade," said Harry. "I've figured out how to stop those nasty branches from a safe distance. You just hit a certain knot with an Impediment spell." They turned around, slipped out a side door, and walked out onto the Hogwarts grounds.

"Well, master, we're in a fix and no mistake," said Samwise Gamgee. He stood despondently with hunched shoulders beside Frodo Baggins, as they surveyed the jagged hills of Emyn Muil. To the east they could see the mountains of Mordor, hung about with smoke.

It had been three days since they had left the fellowship, and they had still not found a way off of the treacherous slopes. They often retraced their steps because they could find no way forward, or discovered that they had wandered in a circle back to where they had been hours before. Always they found the outer faces sheer, high and impassable. The place was barren, without sign of food or water.

"Fix or no fix," said Frodo, "We cannot stay here all night. We must find a more sheltered spot, and camp once more; perhaps another day will show us a path."

They turned and went down towards a stone hollow, their way made more difficult by the appearance of a grey and unnaturally thick mist that wrapped itself around them. Then suddenly, a strange sensation caught and washed over them. Everything around them seemed to shimmer, collapse, and reform. The mists cleared. The landscape changed. They found themselves standing before a high stone gate, with a castle rising in the distance.

They peered at the gate, confused. They could see lettering on it, but could not make it out in the deep, moonless darkness. "If only we could see what it says," whispered Frodo. "I fear we have come a long way from home."

"What about the Lady's star-glass?" asked Sam. "A light to you in dark places, she said it was."

"Why yes!" said Frodo. "I had forgotten." He held aloft the Phial of Galadriel. It kindled to a silver light; and darkness receded before it. They peered at the lettering on the gate:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"School?" asked Sam, incredulously. "For Wizards? Do you suppose that Gandalf went here?"

"I do not know; but if there are Wizards within, they may be able to help us," said Frodo. As they spoke, the gate slowly creaked open. The Hobbits stepped inside, and walked quickly towards the castle-and then collided heavily with something that wasn't there.

Frodo sprawled headlong and became entangled in some sort of fabric. When he stood, he found himself facing two boys and a girl who had appeared as if by magic. They were as surprised to see him as he was to see them.

The girl, bushy-haired with bright brown eyes, spoke first. "Who are you?" she asked, scoldingly. "Are you first-years? You're not supposed to be out on the grounds at night."

"Well, technically, neither are we," said one of the boys, laughing as he ran a hand through his bright red hair.

Frodo bowed low. "I am Frodo, son of Drogo. This is my faithful servant, Samwise Gamgee. We are Hobbits of the Shire. We are weary travelers bearing a great Burden. We seek the assistance of..." Frodo stopped. He heard a hissing noise and the sound of flapping feet.

"Gollum!" Frodo cried.

"No, Snape!" said the other boy, peering at a piece of parchment through round, black glasses. "Under the Invisibility Cloak, now!" The children grabbed Frodo and Sam, and they all huddled together under the Cloak.

A tall man in black robes had just opened the front door of Hogwarts castle and stepped outside. He first peered into the darkness; then stood still, apparently listening. After a few moments, he went back inside.

"That was close," sighed the boy holding the parchment. He bent down to the Hobbits. "I'm Harry; this is Hermione and Ron."

"What's a Hobbit?" asked Ron.

"I remember reading a very old book about Hobbits," said Hermione. "The name Frodo sounds familiar..."

Just then the door opened again. Severus Snape had returned; this time he was accompanied by a very old man with a long, grey beard.

Frodo could not believe his eyes. Forgetting himself, he threw off the Invisibility Cloak and cried, "Gandalf! Gandalf! You're alive!" Frodo ran up the stairs and flung his arms about the old man's waist. Sam came running after.

The old man looked down, his blue eyes twinkling in bemused astonishment. "Gandalf? I have not been called Gandalf in a very long time." He stooped down to look more closely at Frodo. "You are not a student here. Who are..."

"He says he's Frodo son of Drogo. A hobbit of the Shire," Hermione interrupted helpfully. "I remember reading about hobbits in a very old, Red Book called 'The Downfall of the Lord..."

"Frodo son of Drogo? Frodo Baggins?" asked the old man in wonder. "But Frodo Baggins passed into the twilight many years ago..."

"Twilight?" asked Frodo, uncomprehending. "Boromir was corrupted by the Ring and tried to take it from me. Sam and I split from the company and made our way to Emyn Muil. But we could not find a way down. We were overtaken by a foul mist. Then the mists cleared, and we found ourselves here. We are weary, and my burden is heavy.

"Burden?" asked the old man.

"The Ring." Frodo drew the Ring out on its chain. Immediately Harry felt his scar begin to burn, an excruciating, searing pain.

Snape gasped and stepped backwards, his black eyes darting from the Ring to its bearer. "Frodo Baggins. The Frodo Baggins. Back from the mists of time and legend. With his Quest...incomplete?"

"Frodo. Dear, dear Frodo," said the old man. "To see you again, after so many thousands of years, should be an occasion of great joy. Alas, I greatly fear that you and the Ring have been brought here to evil purpose." He sighed. "Frodo, Sam and Harry, come with me. Professor Snape, please escort Hermione and Ron back to the Gryffindor portrait-hole."

The old man swept Harry, Frodo, and Sam into his office, shut the door and sat down. Sam, able to restrain himself no longer, blurted, "Here, Gandalf, what is going on? What did you mean by 'thousands of years' since you saw Mr. Frodo? It's only been a month or so since Moria. How did you escape, anyway?"

The old man replied, "Dear Sam. Dear, dear Frodo. Such a happy, unlooked-for meeting. I had never hoped to meet Hobbits of the Shire again. Indeed, I had quite forgotten about the inquisitiveness of Hobbits!"

"You have stepped out of one Age of the Earth into another. The Third Age of Middle Earth ended with the defeat of Sauron and the wedding of Arwen Undomiel and King Elessar, who you knew as Aragorn of Arathorn."

"Strider!" cried Sam.

"The very one." The old man continued. "The return of the King gave new hope and strength to the Men of Gondor. But his marriage to Queen Arwen had results that no one predicted. Though she had renounced her heritage and become mortal, some of her lineage retained the ability to perform Elven magic. This ability did not wane through the generations, and even became stronger. Thus a new race was born: mortals capable of doing powerful magic.

"Although I had sailed over the seas to Elvenhome at the end of the Third Age, never hoping to see Middle Earth again, it became apparent to the Valar that someone would need to train and guide these powerful mortals, lest they destroy Middle Earth. And so I returned. This is a training school, and I am its headmaster: I am now known as Albus Dumbledore.

"Alas, the destruction of Sauron was not the end of evil on the earth. A dark sorcerer, calling himself Lord Voldemort arose, and he wrought great evil upon the earth. He was nearly killed fourteen years ago, and lived on only as a disembodied spirit. But a few months ago he was able to regain a body, and now is rebuilding his power. I fear that your being here, bearing the Ring, is more than just a happy coincidence."

"But if Sauron is defeated, how would the Ring help Voldemort?" asked Frodo.

"I do not fully know," replied Dumbledore, his expression troubled. "But I suspect that as long as the Ring remains in existence, the power of Sauron lives on. Thus it is still a force of great corruption and evil."

"It seems our course is as clear now as it was, as you say, thousands of years ago," said Frodo quietly. "I must continue my journey to Mt. Doom and destroy the Ring."

"Mount Doom?" said Dumbledore. "The volcano of Orodruin went dormant a thousand years ago. There is no Crack of Doom, there are no fires to destroy the Ring."

Frodo and Sam exchanged glances, stunned.

"It may be," said Dumbledore, "That the Ring can be destroyed by other means. I shall call a Wizard's council to decide this question. Until then, I believe that you should remain here at Hogwarts. Lord Voldemort may be looking for the Ring and for you, Frodo. Hogwarts is the safest place for you now.

"As for the Ring itself; it was made long before the days of mortal magic. I wonder." Dumbledore broke off and looked at Harry. "Harry, perform a Summoning Spell on the Ring."

Harry lifted his wand and said, "Accio Ring." The Ring flew off the chain around Frodo's neck, and into Harry's hand. Harry's scar, which had been aching ever since he first saw the Ring, exploded into unbearable pain. Harry dropped the Ring, and collapsed to the floor with his head in his hands.

Frodo retrieved the Ring as Sam helped Harry back to his seat. Dumbledore shook his head. "The youngest student at Hogwarts could take the Ring from you, Frodo. The Ring will also be a fascination and temptation to our most powerful professors."

"Snape," thought Harry, darkly.

"This may help, at least temporarily." Dumbledore reached into his desk, and pulled out a simple, silver locket. He opened it and said, "Put the Ring inside, Frodo." Dumbledore then tapped the locket with his wand and muttered a long incantation. Sam shifted uneasily in his chair. Dumbledore then handed the locket back to Frodo.

Taking the locket, Frodo was astonished. "Is the Ring really in there? It feels so-so light."

"Yes, it is there," replied Dumbledore. "You have long grown accustomed to its evil weight. The locket itself will shield you and others somewhat from its influence, at least for a time. The locket cannot be stolen by magical means. And only a Hobbit can open it, and then only voluntarily, not under the influence of a controlling spell.

"And now, what to do with you, Frodo and Sam? Where in Hogwarts shall we keep you? I think the student houses are best; they are well-guarded." Dumbledore smiled, reached behind his desk, and picked up the Sorting Hat. He had merely begun to turn back towards Frodo and Sam when the Hat sang out "Gryffindor!" As Dumbledore replaced the Hat it added, testily, "As if you even needed to ask."

"Gryffindor it is!" laughed Dumbledore. He looked back and forth between Harry and Frodo. "Stick close to Harry, Frodo," he said. "Harry has long been a target of Lord Voldemort, and has defended himself ably on a number of occasions. And, judging from what we saw earlier, he would be the last person to take the ring." Harry rubbed his forehead at the thought.

Dumbledore stood and bade them all good night. As they passed out into the hall, Harry thought he heard Dumbledore's voice saying softly, "Yes, Fawkes. Yes, Fawkes, I know. But not now. Perhaps never."

Harry looked down at Frodo and Sam as he lead them towards Gryffindor tower. "Keep close to me," thought Harry. "That's what Dumbledore said. Does he expect me to protect them somehow? From Voldemort? Me? I can barely protect myself." Harry thought sadly about Cedric Diggory. "I didn't do a very good job of protecting him, did I."

They met a young red-haired girl on the stairs. "Frodo and Sam, this is Ginny Weasley, also of Gryffindor," said Harry. "Hullo, Ginny," said Frodo. Ginny gazed into his enormous blue eyes for a moment, and then did something very odd, Frodo thought. She went beet-red and started giggling uncontrollably.

"Password," the Fat Lady said.

"Nincompoop!" squeaked Ginny, and she darted through the portrait-hole into the Gryffindor common room.

"What was that?" Sam exclaimed.

"Oh, Ginny," sighed Harry. "She's like that sometimes."

"No, no, I mean the painting. It talked!"

"Oh, the painting." Harry smiled. "That's how they are at Hogwarts. This one guards the entrance to Gryffindor tower. Don't forget the password, or she'll never let you in."

They stepped into the common room, and sat down near the fire by Ron and Hermione. "What did Dumbledore say?" asked Ron.

Carefully, Harry replied, "He said that these, er, hobbits were in danger from Volde-You Know Who. That we should, we should all-stick together, look out for one another."

"What about the Ring?" asked Hermione.

"It's safe," said Frodo quickly.

"Harry?" Harry turned. A first-year girl that he knew slightly was standing next to him, beaming. Harry was willing to humor her, as he was by this time used to a certain amount of celebrity and hero-worship.

"Yes," he said, kindly.

"Who's your friend?" she said, coyly tilting her head. Harry realized the girl wasn't beaming at him, but at Frodo. In fact, behind her was a small group of first- and second-year girls, all looking shyly at Frodo and glancing away. They twittered quietly amongst themselves: "Look at those eyes", "Isn't he dreamy", "I'm in love."

Frodo rose and said, "I am Frodo, son of Drogo, a hobbit of the Shire. At your service, fair maidens." He bowed low. This show of gallantry was met with giggles and peals of delight.

"What's a Hobbit?" asked a girl.

"Well," started Frodo, "we have been called haflings, holbytla-"

"Will you go with me to the Yule Ball?" asked another girl. "It's only three months away."

Frodo stared at her. He had no response to that.

Chapter 2: The Sorcerer's Mirror

The Black Sorcerer went out into the moonless darkness, again performing what had become his nocturnal ritual for the past three months. He carried a black, smoking cauldron. "Tonight," he thought. "Tonight I shall find them, and It."

Down a long flight of steps, he went into a deep, green hollow. Upon a low pedestal carved like a branching tree stood an ancient silver basin, wide and shallow, and beside it an equally ancient silver ewer. He dipped the ewer into the cauldron, and filled the basin to the brim. He breathed on it. Then he turned his eyes to the water.

Stars reflected in it at first, but then went out. The black water grew grey and foggy. Then the fog cleared, and he resumed his search, again looking deep into the distant past. Then, finally, he saw them: two small figures climbing upon the brink of a sheer cliff, overlooking livid, festering marshes. To the West meandered a great river. A dark line of mountains and smoke hung in the East; intermittently a tiny red gleam flickered above it.

The Sorcerer stared at one of the small figures, bending upon it every fiber of his will and concentration. For an instant-- for a brief, flickering instant he saw it: a Wheel of Fire. He reached for his wand. "Come to me," he whispered, his breath rapid and uneven. "Come to me Now."

He gently touched his wand to the water, placing it upon the reflection of the figures. He pushed the tip of his wand through the water, and then brought it out sharply, crying "Veni! Veni! A Meus!" When the water became still, he looked into it again. To his great satisfaction, he saw that the figures had turned, walking into a mist. They approached a castle-and then vanished from the Sorcerer's sight.

His face changed. He knew that he had successfully brought the figures and their Burden into the future. How could he not see them? And then he realized what must have happened. Through luck or some capricious trick of fate, they had materialized on the doorstep of Hogwarts. With Dumbledore. And that accursed Potter boy! Of all places on Earth for them to have appeared-the one place they would be safe from him, at least for a little while. He chucked grimly at the sheer irony of it.

The chuckles turned to laughter and then to screaming.

Chapter 3: Of Hobbits and House-Elves

Hermione stood. "Shoo, shoo!" The girls scattered.

"Christmas dance?" said Frodo.

"Don't worry about it," Harry sighed. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Harry, but we've been walking a long way, with no proper food," Sam said.

"Of course," said Harry. "You must be starving."

"I'll bring them down to the kitchens," said Hermione. "Can I borrow your cloak, Harry?"

"Sure you'll be all right?" asked Harry and Ron together. Hermione glared at them and grabbed the cloak.

They headed down the stairs. After Hermione, Frodo and Sam had passed the Fat Lady, Hermione said "All right everyone, under the cloak. We're not supposed to go about after hours, and there's an ill-tempered caretaker here named Filch, who would not take kindly to our pilfering the kitchen late at night. Of course, getting there is the hardest part. Once we're in the kitchens, the house-elves will feed you anything you like."

"Elves," cried Frodo. "There are Elves here?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Well--no. Not the kind of elves you mean. Not ancient elves. These elves are...well, you'll see... Hey, Sam, watch that step."

Presently the trio found themselves in the Hogwarts kitchens. Sam marveled at the size of the kitchen and the array of brightly polished pots and pans. Dobby popped out immediately and said, "Miss Hermione, Dobby is so happy to see you and your little friends. Dobby heard about our new visitors, and has a small feast ready for you!"

Hermione was amazed that creatures so small could eat so much. The Hobbits refused nothing they were offered, even taking seconds and thirds. They happily stuffed pies, tarts, cream puffs, and seed cakes into their pockets.

Sam, looking the picture of contentment, leaned back in his chair and said, "Many thanks, Mr. Dobby. I wish my old Gaffer were here to admire your kitchens."

"Yes," said Frodo. "Now if only we had some pipe weed to aid in digestion!"

"Ooooooo! Smoking is not allowed at Hogwarts," Hermione chastised.

Dobby winked at the hobbits. "Come back tomorrow, small sirs."

They crept back upstairs, their bellies full and outlook much brighter. "Nincompoop," whispered Hermione.

As they climbed up to the Gryffindor common room, Sam asked

"Miss Hermione, who-or what are House Elves? I mean, there were no House Elves where we came from, I think."

Hermione frowned. "I'm a bit embarrassed to say so, but I really don't know."

"The history of little people is often forgotten," said Frodo.

Hermione said nothing, but gently patted Frodo's shoulder.

They found Ron and Harry still in the common room, playing chess. Ron looked up. "Finally. You're back." Self-consciously, Hermione pulled her hand away from Frodo. "Come on, Hobbits," said Ron. "I'll show you where the boys sleep."

Frodo and Sam settled into their four-poster feather beds. "We haven't slept in a decent bed like this since Rivendell," Sam sighed. "Good night, dear master."

"Good night, Sam." Frodo drifted off to sleep, dreaming of Elven kings.

Chapter 4: Broomstick Ride

"Wake up sleepyheads. You don't want to miss Saturday breakfast."

Frodo stirred slightly. He was hearing silvery Elven-song in his dream. He opened his eyes; and still covered in the cobwebs of sleep, Frodo thought the boy standing over his bed was a young son of Elrond.

"Wake up," said Harry again.

The Great Hall of Hogwarts has been previously described, so I will not do so here. Suffice it to say that Frodo was most impressed with the magical ceiling, which was that morning a clear, deep blue with puffy white clouds. Sam loved the ever-refilling plates. "This is what every Hobbit would want," said Sam, as he started on his third helping of sausages.

Now, you might have thought that the arrival of two ancient creatures of a forgotten race, a month after the start of term would have caused a stir amongst the Hogwarts students. But since the end of the previous term there had been great and serious upheavals at Hogwarts, as a result of the return of Lord Voldemort.

Actually, the school most affected was Durmstrang. Its headmaster and half its faculty had disappeared, presumably either fleeing from or going to Lord Voldemort. Hogwarts had agreed to accept the displaced Durmstrang students and those of its faculty that Dumbledore felt were trustworthy. The students were mostly absorbed into Slytherin House; fewer than half of the Slytherins had returned to Hogwarts. Ron had said, "The only good thing about Voldemort's return is that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle are gone, and good riddance!"

The new Durmstrang professors were unfamiliar and intimidating, particularly the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Dr. Schlechtes Dunkelheitzen. Professor Snape had left at the end of term last year, on an errand of Dumbledore's, and had not been expected to return. His appearance that fall had been a surprise (and, truth to tell, something of a disappointment!) to many. Rumors that Professor Lupin would return has so far proven false.

The official stance of the Ministry of Magic was still that there was "no proof" that Voldemort had returned. This obstinacy had the effect of fanning fear rather than quelling it. The Wizarding world had spent the summer and early fall in agonizing suspense, waiting for Voldemort's next move.

So the appearance of two small, hungry, unshod, hairy-footed, pointy-eared Hobbits generated no great interest in the Hogwarts students. They were assumed to be odd Durmstrang students, or perhaps just refugees from who knows where. As long as they weren't in league with You-Know-Who, they were welcome at Hogwarts. Some, especially the younger girls, noticed the luminous blue eyes of one of the visitors. But for the most part, the Hobbits simply blended in.

I have Quiddich practice this morning," Harry said, rising from the table. "I was going to head over to the field to practice some new flying techniques. Want to watch?"

"Quiddich?" asked Frodo.

"It's a game, played on broomsticks. There's two goalposts, and two bludgers, and..."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Hobbits walked out to playing field. It was a fine, crisp, early autumn day, perfect for the pre-season practice game between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor houses.

Harry hopped on his broomstick and flew off into the air. Frodo gasped. He fondly remembered his Uncle Bilbo's stories about being carried by eagles. Frodo had always wanted to fly.

After performing a few very demanding, but deceptively simple aerial acrobatics, Harry alighted again in front of his friends. Frodo jumped up. "Can I--I mean..."

"You want to fly? Sure--it's easy." Harry put his broomstick down beside Frodo. "Just put your hand out and say 'up.'"

"Up," said Frodo. Nothing happened. "Up. Up. Up!" The broomstick didn't move.

Hermione looked up uncomfortably. "Um, Harry, I don't think Hobbits are..."

"Magical," said Frodo sadly. He shook his head and turned to sit down again.

"Wait," said Harry. "Maybe I can give you a ride." Frodo turned back, delighted. "Just sit here behind me on the broomstick--and hang on tight!" The broomstick wobbled a bit, and then rose swiftly into the air. Frodo was too excited to notice the worried look on Sam's face.

Harry flew smoothly about the field at first. Frodo was terrified but exhilarated. He found he couldn't balance well enough just clutching the broomstick, so he had to hang on to Harry.

"Not so tight, Frodo. I can't breathe!" Harry complained. Frodo reluctantly relaxed his grip.

Something came over Harry then. Whether it was to give the Hobbit a little scare, impress his friends, or just have some fun, Harry didn't know. Perhaps it was the effect of the locket, pressed between Frodo's chest and Harry's back. But, to his lasting regret, Harry started performing some more complicated maneuvers. He didn't notice, or ignored, Frodo's tightening grip and his gasps of terror. Harry then executed his trademark Quiddich move: a steep dive, followed by a sharp pull-out inches from the ground.

Frodo's nerve must have failed him then; or perhaps Hobbits simply cannot withstand large G-forces. As Harry pulled out of the dive, he felt Frodo's grip relax and then fall away. Frodo fell to the ground, senseless.

Sam was at his side in an instant. Cradling Frodo's head in his arms, Sam looked up at Harry, now running towards them. "What have you done?" asked Sam, with an anguished cry.

"I'll go get Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said, dashing off to the hospital wing.

Ron stood and looked at Harry, but said nothing. If Harry could have descended into the depths of the earth, he would have done so immediately.

"'Stick close to Harry,'" a familiar, nasty voice said. Professor Snape had walked up behind them. "Harry will protect the Hobbits, Harry will keep them safe," he sneered. "And a fine job of protecting them too, no less than I would have expected from the great Harry Potter." He spat out the name.

Frodo opened his eyes. "What happened? I was falling, and--oh, my arm," Frodo cringed.

"Looks broken," Snape said casually. "By the way, you dropped something."

Frodo stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Then with a start, Frodo fumbled about his neck and realized the locket was gone. Snape dangled it over Frodo's nose, then pulled it away, just out of reach.

"How careless you are with something so precious." Snape's eyes glittered as he looked at the locket. "I don't understand why Dumbledore would entrust something like this to the care of an irresponsible child and a pair of half-wit Hobbits."

In an instant Snape was facing two Hobbits with drawn swords pointed at him. "Thief! Give it back!" Frodo shouted, swaying a bit as he brandished his Elven-sword, Sting. Snape raised his wand, but Harry was too quick for him.

"Expelliarmus!" Snape's wand flew into Harry's outstretched hand. Frodo dropped Sting and snatched the locket. He put it over his head, and then collapsed to the ground in pain.

Snape stalked over to Harry. "My wand!" Harry gave it back to him. Snape glared at him for a long, unbearable minute, and then said quietly, "For endangering the life of a Hogwarts visitor, one hundred points from Gryffindor. For interfering with a professor, fifty points. And detention."

Snape turned to go. He added, over his shoulder, "What you really deserve, Harry Potter, is expulsion."

For once, Harry had to agree with Snape. He had nearly killed his passenger. He had almost lost the Ring. He did deserve expulsion, or worse. He dimly heard Madame Pomfrey say, "Just a simple break, Frodo, dear. We'll have you all healed up in no time. You'll just have to stay overnight in the hospital wing." Ron and Hermione were helping with the stretcher. Harry began to walk over, but Sam's dark looks stopped him.

Over the loudspeaker, Harry heard, "And Seeker for Gryffindor House, Harry Potter!" The small crowd on the other side of the field began cheering. Harry shook his head and got on his broomstick.

After the game, Harry headed over to the hospital wing. "How could I have been so careless, so stupid," he wondered. "I heard him cry out. Why didn't I put him down?" Harry found Frodo awake, in bed, talking to Professor Dumbledore. He looked up and said, "Ah, Harry. How did the game go? I hear you took Frodo on a bit of a wild ride this morning."

Harry hung his head. "I'm so dreadfully sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Hmm. Perhaps something did indeed come over you," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I wonder..."

"Do not trouble yourself too much, Harry," said Frodo. "Most of it was great fun, actually. I pretended I was riding on the back of an eagle." Frodo turned to Dumbledore. "You've done that, Gandalf, and so has Uncle Bilbo." Frodo sighed. "I suppose Harry's broomstick is the closest I'll ever come to eagle-flying, don't you think?" Dumbledore smiled indulgently at Frodo, but did not reply.

"How's your arm?" Harry asked.

"The break is healed. Madame Pomfrey's skills rival those of the Elves-the Elves of old, I mean. She says she will release me from the house of healing tomorrow, but I am of a mind to leave well before then. Hullo, Sam, have you got it?"

Sam had just walked in, bearing a small pouch and a conspiratorial grin. "Yes, I've got it here. Good, by the smell of it. Very obliging, these House-Elves." Sam then pulled out two very long-stemmed pipes, and handed one to Frodo. Dumbledore laughed; and then, to Harry's surprise, pulled from his robes a pipe of his own.

"It's been a long time," said Dumbledore. "I had given it up. But why not, amongst old friends."

Harry left the hospital wing in much better spirits than when he entered. He left the trio of friends to blow smoke rings and talk of old times. Presently he heard the sound of Madame Pomfrey's high-pitched scolding. Harry whistled a tune and headed towards Gryffindor.

Chapter 5: I Hate Spiders

Later that afternoon, Harry found Frodo and Sam sitting on the front lawn of Hogwarts, lazily blowing smoke-rings. "I see your plan for early discharge from Hospital worked," grinned Harry.

"Yes, indeed," Frodo replied. "The pipe-weed did the trick. We were thrown out immediately. Although I fear I've made an enemy of Madame Pomfrey. I suppose I should not go riding about on broomsticks any time soon!" Harry winced; then seeing Frodo's face, laughed.

"I'm sure you two are looking forward to an evening of dinner with ever- refilling plates, but I wanted to tell you that we're invited to dine tonight with a good friend of ours. His house is on the grounds."

Frodo puffed on his pipe. "We would be delighted." Harry nodded and went on his way.

Frodo closed his eyes and leaned back on the lawn. The crisp morning had given way to a pleasant, Indian summer afternoon. The sun warmed his face and his feet. "I am content, Sam," he said, eyes still closed. "I know I should not be, for our Quest may still lie ahead. But in truth, I welcome this reprieve. Put away in this locket, the Ring seems light. Indeed, I hardly feel it."

"As I've said, feels a bit like Rivendell. Leastways the food and the bedding," added Sam.

"And the company," said Frodo. "These children are the descendants of Elves, after all." Frodo opened his eyes. "I feel that great temptation again. To stop here, I mean. Not to go on. To leave the Ring to others."

"Well, we do seem to be stuck here for now, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "Nowhere to go. No choices to make except for what to eat. But you know that wherever you go in the end, I will go too."

Frodo couldn't say anything for a little while. Then-"Of course, if we stayed here, that would mean never seeing the Shire again. Not that we would see it again anyway, even if we resumed the Quest."

Sam sat up on his elbows and gazed at Frodo. "One way to find out, sir."

"What do you mean?" asked Frodo, puzzled.

"Miss Hermione, last night when we ran into her," said Sam. "She said something about a 'Red Book.' Said she'd read about hobbits. Seemed to know your name. I reckon this might be the same Red Book your uncle Bilbo was working on. Maybe we could take a peek, see what's in store for us, if you follow me."

That evening, Frodo and Sam met up with Harry, Ron and Hermione. They walked down the grounds and approached a stone cottage. Sam chatted merrily with Ron; suddenly he looked up and froze. "Giant!" he cried. "Giant! Run! He'll eat us! Save yourselves! Frodo!"

"Oooooh, honestly!" called Hermione, reproachfully. "There's no need to be rude, Sam! This is Hagrid. He's our groundskeeper and professor." By that time, Frodo and Sam had put a significant distance between themselves and Hagrid. They came trotting back, apologetically.

"'Ere, don't worry," said Hagrid, extending a large hand. "I'm no giant. Not a full giant, leastways. Not going to eat you. Come inside."

Ron turned to the Hobbits, "When Hagrid said he wanted to have you for dinner, he didn't mean he really wanted to Have You For Dinner!"

"That's enough, Ron," said Hermione.

"Anyway, the likes of you wouldn't be more than a mouthful for Hagrid..."

"RON!!"

Hagrid, from the Hobbit point of view, proved to be a gracious host, but an poor cook. They were happy to have had their full complement of hobbit meals that day (five). The ambience left something to be desired as well, as three astonishingly large spiders decided to intrude upon dessert.

"I hate spiders," said Ron, cringing. Sam reached forward and picked one of them up off the table. It was as big as his palm. He presented it to Ron, doubtless thinking Ron would appreciate a closer look. He did not. "Get it away from me!"

"It's not that big," said Sam. "Nothing to be afraid of, not for a big man-child like yourself. Now Mr. Frodo's uncle Bilbo, he ran into some really big spiders in dark Mirkwood forest. Slew them single-handedly, he did."

"Oh, we have some really big spiders here in the Enchanted Forest, if you'd like to see them," said Harry.

"We shall take your word for it," said Frodo quickly. Hagrid opened the window and lightly tossed the spiders out. "What course do you teach at Hogwarts, Hagrid?"

"Care of Magical Creatures," Hagrid replied.

"Magical creatures?" asked Sam. "What sort of magical creatures? Any oliphaunts?"

"No, no oliphaunts. Not after what happened last time," said Hagrid sadly. "Flubberworms, grindylows, hippogryffs, manticores, unicorns, blast-ended scroots..."

"Unicorns!" Sam cried. "I'd love to see a unicorn."

"There's one out back," Hagrid said. "But he won't let you get too close, I expect." They all went outside. To Hagrid's surprise, the unicorn not only allowed Sam to approach, but also bowed its head and actually nuzzled him. "Odd," said Hagrid. "Fully-grown unicorns generally won't let a young man like yourself come near them."

"But I am not a Man," said Sam.

The company returned to the Gryffindor common room in high spirits. They were greeted by the Weasley twins.

"Sam and Frodo, meet my brothers, Fred and George," said Ron.

"Oh, hullo," said Fred.

"So you're the new Gryffindors. Frodo is it?" asked George. "You must be the one all the first-year girls are in love with."

"Can't see why," added Fred.

"I..." started Frodo.

"Back from dinner with Hagrid?" asked Fred.

"Delicious, no doubt," said George.

"Still hungry?" Fred asked.

"Maybe a little bit," admitted Sam.

"We've got just the thing! Have a canary cream," offered George.

"No, don't!" Harry interrupted.

"Why not?" asked Frodo, eyeing the succulent pastry.

"Because it'll turn you into a molting fowl," said Neville Longbottom, in a manner indicating long experience.

"Oh, you're no fun at all!" cried Fred.

"Really pathetic," added George.

"This is Neville," said Ron.

"We've met," Frodo said. He and Sam had found Neville standing outside the Fat Lady earlier that day, unable to recall the password.

"Here, try these if you're still hungry," offered Harry. "They're Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans."

"Every flavor? What flavor is this?" asked Frodo, pulling a bean from the offered package.

"Oh, that one," said Harry. "I don't really know; it tastes good, even makes you feel good all over. But I've never been able to identify it."

Frodo tasted it and his eyes went wide. "Lembas!"

Chapter 6: The Red Book

Frodo slept fitfully that night, troubled by dreams that he could not recall. He awoke early and headed downstairs to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Hermione sitting by the fire, her schoolbooks laid out in front of her, her quill scratching away at an essay.

"Good morning, Frodo," she said, looking up from her work.

He sat down next to her. "Hermione, I must ask you something. When we first met, night before last, you mentioned that you had once read about Hobbits, and that you were acquainted with my name. You spoke of a 'Red Book.'"

Hermione looked down. She had been expecting this question. She knew what the Red Book was, and felt that it wouldn't be a good idea for Frodo to see it. She had planned to dissemble, to tell Frodo the Red Book wasn't at Hogwarts, that it didn't contain any useful information, that it actually had nothing to do with him.

"Would it be possible for me to see it?" Frodo asked. Hermione started to speak-but then she found his gaze utterly disarming. His eyes seemed to look through her; and at the same time, laid his own soul bare. She could neither lie to him, nor deny him.

"It's in the library," she said.

In the Ancient Manuscripts section, she led him to a glass case. In it was a very old book. The cover had gone brown with age, but hints of red could still be seen. It was too fragile to handle, so the book had been enchanted; the folio pages flipped magically at the reader's thought. Frodo looked at it and trembled slightly. "My Uncle Bilbo wrote this, didn't he?"

"Part of it," answered Hermione.

"Who wrote the rest?"

"You did, Frodo. And Sam, a little bit."

Frodo opened the front cover and gazed at the title page:

THE DOWNFALL OF THE LORD OF THE RINGS
AND THE RETURN OF THE KING

It was written in a strong, flowing script. He saw that other titles, obviously in his Uncle Bilbo's spidery hand, had been crossed out. He sat down and began to read. Hermione watched him for a little while, and then couldn't bear it anymore. She left him alone in the library, and sadly made her way back to Gryffindor.

Hermione spent the day alone in the Gryffindor common room, staring at her books. Somehow the fine autumn day did not hold quite the allure for her that it had for the other Gryffindors. She also had no desire to return to the library.

"Hermione," said a light voice.

She jumped. "Frodo! I didn't hear you come in." She looked into his troubled eyes, and her heart sank. "Poor, poor Frodo," she thought. "I left you alone in there, reading about the horrors you'll face if we send you back."

"I think there's been some mistake," said Frodo. "Perhaps there was another book you were thinking of."

"What?" said Hermione.

"The book you showed me was indeed started by my Uncle Bilbo; but neither Sam nor I finished it. It was completed by my kinsman Meriadoc Brandybuck. It detailed our journey up until Sam and I crossed the Anduin alone. It says that neither of us were ever heard from again; but as Mordor collapsed shortly thereafter, it was assumed that we had been successful in our Quest."

"What about the War of the Ring?" asked Hermione.

"War of the Ring?" asked Frodo.

"The great battles," said Hermione. "What about Helm's Deep? The Battle of Pelennor Fields? The Battle at the Gate?"

"There was no mention of such battles."

Hermione stared at Frodo for a moment. "Frodo," she said, slowly. "Do you realize what this means?" He shook his head. "The past is changed. By coming here and bringing the ring to the future-you saved Middle Earth. Sauron fell. Your Quest was completed, though not in the way you had intended."

"But the Ring still exists!" cried Frodo.

"You took it upon yourself to save Middle Earth. You did! This world, the world of the future, is neither your concern nor your responsibility. Let others figure out how to deal with the Ring. Stay here with us if you like. Or, if we figure out how to send you, go back and leave the Ring behind." She knelt before him and folded him in her arms.