Frodo and Harry

Chapter 7: The Orb of Madame Trelawney

That night, Frodo dreamt that he was standing on a precipice. He had come here to do something important, but he could not remember what it was. Hermione was there, telling him he had finished his task. Still Frodo stood, frozen, unable to make a decision. Suddenly something pounced on his chest. Frodo awoke with a start. Two enormous eyes were shining at him in the moonlight. Frodo screamed.

"Frodo!" cried Sam and Harry, simultaneously jumping to either side of Frodo's bed.

"Gollum!" gasped Frodo.

"Purrrrrrr."

Harry magically lit a candle. A large, ginger cat was sitting on Frodo's chest, purring contentedly. "Crookshanks, scat!" cried Harry. The cat shot him a reproachful look, then delicately leapt off Frodo's chest. It padded away, waving its bottle-brush tail in the air.

"Hermione's wretched cat!" scowled Ron, sitting up in bed. "It likes to do that. Going to give someone a heart attack one of these days."

Frodo flopped back into bed, his heart racing. It took him a very long time to get to sleep again, so he slept well into the morning.

Harry and Ron did not have that luxury. Their first class was their least-favorite, Potions, taught by the ever-unpleasant Professor Severus Snape. He was particularly ill-tempered that morning, perhaps remembering the events of Saturday morning, two days ago, when Harry had had to disarm him so that Frodo could take back the Ring. Snape had taken one hundred fifty points from Gryffindor that day and given Harry a detention, which he had served all day Sunday. But Snape was not appeased. By the end of the class, Gryffindor had lost twenty more points, and Harry had another detention.

Divination, their second-least-favorite class was next. Harry climbed the rope ladder leading to the trap-door entrance to Madame Trelawney's classroom. As usual, it was dark, warm, and stifling with the scent of sweetly perfumed incense. Harry threw his schoolbooks down, still furious about Professor Snape. He very nearly knocked over the two crystal balls on his desk.

"Oh, Harry." The voice of Madame Trelawney floated across the classroom. "Do not yield to negative emotions like anger. Your time with us is so very short. You should enjoy what little life is left to you." She walked over to Harry, her face streaming with tears. "Oh, Harry, Harry. I have seen it in the signs. Your time is drawing near. You will leave us tonight!"

This made Harry even angrier. One of the reasons he disliked Divination was that Madame Trelawney had been predicting his imminent demise for years. "Right," he said. "What about last year? And the year before? You said I would die then, and I'm still here."

"You have avoided your fate, it is true. This can happen a few times, but not forever," she went on, in her usual, irritatingly dreamy way. "Harry, this time you will not escape. You will willingly seek out your doom! Oh!" She wrung her hands together, and wept as she wafted back to her desk.

It took her several minutes to compose herself. Then she said, "Class, today we shall be gazing into the crystal orbs. Free your minds and allow the portents of the future to enter in." Harry and Ron each looked at their orbs.

"I see a lot of fog," sniggered Ron. "This must be a weather-predicting orb."

"Mine's predicting wind, rain...and a lot of hot air," Harry said, glancing over at Madame Trelawney. Ron snorted.

Harry sighed and returned his gaze to the orb. He stared at the swirling fog within; it seemed to be beginning to take shape, although it remained maddeningly out of focus. He started to develop a slight headache. Still he looked harder, and then began to recognize a faint outline: a face. Presently he saw that it was his own face. He appeared to be asleep. He was lying on the floor. A tall man stood beside him. The man was holding something in his outstretched hand; Harry couldn't make out what it was.

Harry's headache grew stronger. His scar began to burn. But he continued to stare at the image of the man in the orb, continued to stare at what the man was holding. He felt himself drawn to it, unable to break away. The object in the tall man's hand seemed to be looking back out at him. It was...an eye! A lidless eye that seemed to burn. Likewise, the burning in Harry's forehead intensified, but still he could not look away. Harry then began to hear a voice; someone-or something was trying to speak to him.

"Who are you?" the voice said. It spoke with malice, with malevolence, and with great power.

Harry felt compelled to answer. But before he could, his scar exploded with pain, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

"Harry! Harry! Don't leave us! Come back. Come back into the light." Harry opened his eyes. Madame Trelawney was crouching beside him, stroking his face.

"I'm fine," he said, getting up quickly. He looked over to his desk. In a rare display of good sense, Madame Trelawney had picked up Harry's orb and shut it away in a cupboard.

"What did you see, child?" she asked, consolingly. "Did you see...did you see your..."

"No!" said Harry, angrily. "I didn't see anything. I just fainted. It's the heat and the incense. All I need is some fresh air."

Madame Trelawney dismissed her class then, and Harry and Ron headed for the Great Hall. They found Frodo and Sam there already. The Hobbits had apparently made it into the Hall for a late breakfast which had stretched into lunchtime. Hermione joined them all a short while later.

"How was your morning?" asked Hermione. She was by this time taking so many advanced classes that her schedule did not overlap with Harry's and Ron's very much.

"Rotten!" snapped Harry. "Snape gave me a detention for absolutely no reason. Said I wasn't paying attention."

"And then Harry passed out in Divination," added Ron.

"What?" cried Hermione.

"I don't want to talk about it," said Harry.

"Looking on the bright side," said Ron quickly, "I just heard that all of our afternoon classes are cancelled. Anyone know why?"

"There is to be a Wizard's council, I believe," said Frodo.

"It has to do with something Frodo and I discovered yesterday. Some changes in a...historical book. Frodo and Sam may not have to go back," said Hermione.

"Really?" said Ron. "That's great! But I guess you want to go home at some point, right?"

Frodo didn't say anything, but kept eating.

"You know, I continue to be amazed at how much Hobbits can eat," said Hermione. "It must have something to do with their large surface-to-area ratio, and heightened metabolism due to..."

"Hermione!" said Ron.

Chapter 8: The Council of Dumbledore

"Thank you all for coming here today on such short notice," Dumbledore said, glancing around the Hogwarts council chamber. Many Witches and Wizards were sitting around a stone semicircular table. Frodo and Sam were seated in chairs at the center. "May I introduce members of the Hogwarts faculty, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape, and Sprout. Also our new Defense against the Dark Arts professor, lately of Durmstrang School, Professor Schlechtes Dunkelheitzen. We welcome Madame Maxime, from Beaubaton Witchcraft and Wizarding School in France. We also welcome our representative New World Wizards, Messieurs Gates and Lucas. Everyone knows Mr. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. And may I present to you our honored guests, Frodo Baggins and his servant Samwise Gamgee.

"We all know the history chronicled in the Baggins' Red Book. You have been briefed about the appearance of these Hobbits and the One Ring on the grounds of Hogwarts. But what led me to call this council was a piece of disturbing information brought to my attention by a Hogwarts student. In short, the Red Book has changed. It now records that Frodo and Sam were lost after leaving the Fellowship, but Mordor fell soon after. The War of the Ring never happened.

"There is a discrepancy between what we remember reading, and what the Red Book now records. This represents a very serious Time Anomaly. There is a significant chance that we will not be able to send Frodo, Sam and the Ring back. So we are now straddling two divergent and likely timelines: one, in which Frodo and Sam destroy the Ring in the Third Age, and two, in which they bring the Ring here and it stays here.

"The first question we have to answer is, who brought the Ring here and how?" Dumbledore sat down.

Professor Dunkelheitzen said, "You-Know-Who is the prime suspect, I believe. But I do not know how he did it."

"I do not know if dis eez relevant, but some very early Gallic artifacts were stolen from ze Louvre about ze time You-Know-'oo eez said to have returned," said Madame Maxime. "A seelver ewer and basin. Dese artifacts were considered to possess great, ancient mageecal power."

"I must remind you that it is the official position of the Ministry of Magic that there is no evidence that You-Know-Who has returned," said Cornelius Fudge.

"Yes, Cornelius. We are all aware of the Ministry's official position," said Dumbledore, regarding the Minister of Magic with an expression of reproachful disappointment. "Madame Maxime, perhaps you can investigate the nature of these artifacts more closely. The next question is whether we should send the Hobbits back with the Ring.

Professor McGonagall said, "It is certainly very convenient for us that this Ring has come to us accompanied by Hobbits willing to bring it back. But is it ethical of us to allow them to do this? We have a responsibility as Witches and Wizards to protect the weak, to protect Muggles. We can't just let Frodo and Sam go off to Mordor because that's the easiest and most convenient thing for us to do. Our magic is different; it may be more powerful than the Elvish magic of old. You have successfully applied a shielding charm to the Ring. Perhaps we can find a way to diffuse and dispel its power, rather than leading these poor Hobbits to the..." She trailed off and looked at Frodo and Sam. "Rather than making them go back, if they don't want to."

"If the Hobbits do not wish to return, we cannot in good conscience force them to," said Dumbledore.

"Agreed," said Cornelius Fudge. "In addition, we may not want to send the Ring back at all. We could potentially use it to do good. I reiterate, there is no hard evidence that You-Know-Who has returned; but if he were to return, this Ring would give us a powerful means of fighting him."

Snape stirred and said, "Evil is easiest to fight when it is dark and terrifying. But evil can also be beautiful. It comes in many disguises, and is most tempting when you agree with some of what it says." Snape turned to the company. "Why do you think You-Know-Who...Lord Voldemort has so many supporters?" The assembled Witches and Wizards trembled at hearing the Dark Lord's name spoken aloud. Snape surveyed them all, and then went on, "Why do you think I followed him, once? Are all his supporters purely evil? Do they knowingly choose evil over good?

"Many wizards have long yearned for our proper place on earth. Instead of hiding from muggles, and being constrained to ever-smaller parts of the earth, we should assume our role as rulers. So much suffering could be relieved in the Muggle world with proper guidance and order." Many wizards in the company straightened up at this. Cornelius Fudge even nodded his head slightly. Snape went on, "This is what Voldemort told his Death Eaters." Fudge stopped nodding.

"Lord Voldemort tempts not only with power. He also promises the return of beauty. He speaks of the destruction of the ugly Muggle cities, and returning the Muggles to a peaceful, simple, agrarian society, free from war and hate. He yearns for the cleansing of the air and the water. He vows to return the world back to a time of natural innocence.

"But there is always a dark side to such Utopian visions. There are too many Muggles to be able to return them to a rural life. Most would be killed. 'We will spare the best, the brightest, the fairest,' Voldemort told us. In other words, genocide, both for Muggles and any Wizards who stood in his way.

"Lord Voldemort offered powerful temptations to his Death Eaters on a..." Here Snape faltered slightly; but then went on, "...on a personal level as well. Now the Ring is calling to you all in the same manner that Lord Voldemort did. We are all in gravest danger, of falling victim to our own good intentions, of yielding to temptation without even being aware of it. Professor McGonagall, you are searching for a solution that will make you feel good about yourself. The Ring is calling to you, to all of you, telling you that you are good and powerful; that you can protect these Hobbits; that you are capable of controlling the Ring. But I say to you, that way lies disaster!" Snape rose from his chair, his eyes flashing. "They must go back. They must take the Ring. It is not a nice solution, but it is the right one." Snape sat down again, heavily.

"Is there no other way?" asked Professor McGonagall. "Could the Ring be destroyed? "What about Dragon fire?"

"It is true that Dragon fire of old might have been able to destroy the Ring," said Dumbledore. "But our modern Dragons are, by comparison, mere overgrown lizards. I doubt their fire would be either strong or magical enough."

"What about dropping it in a different volcano? Or deep into the ocean? Or in a nuclear reactor? Or into outer space?" asked the other New World Wizard, Mr. Lucas.

"This Ring is such that mere heat, even extreme heat, is not enough to destroy it," said Dumbledore, wearily. "As for casting it into the ocean or outer space, I must reiterate what I said at another Council: we must look after future generations. The Ring has a way of being found. I suspect it would fall to Earth again, or wash ashore if we tried to cast it away."

Dumbledore then stood and formally addressed Frodo and Sam. "Frodo son of Drogo, Baggins, Hobbit of the Shire, Ringbearer. Long ago, by our reckoning, and a few months ago by yours, you attended the Council of Elrond, and there you volunteered to take the One Ring to Mordor, to destroy it at Mount Doom. Samwise Gamgee, you volunteered to follow and aid Frodo. Again, Frodo, you face another Council. Three choices are laid before you. You may remain here until the end of your days, believing that your quest to save Middle Earth is complete. Second, you may return to the Third Age, and leave the Ring here with us. Third, you may return, bearing the Ring, and continue on your Quest. What say you, Frodo Baggins?"

Frodo closed his eyes and thought about his few short days at Hogwarts. He thought about Harry and Ron. About Hagrid. He thought about Hermione. She had said to him, "You took it upon yourself to save Middle Earth. You did! This 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." She had knelt before him and embraced him. "Let others deal with the Ring...stay here with us..."

Frodo opened his eyes. "I see no great difference between Middle Earth and this world. There are beautiful things in it. I will continue my Quest, and take the Ring to Mordor."

"And I will come with you," said Sam.

Dumbledore bowed his head for a moment. Then, with a quiet voice he said, "We must now turn our attention to the problem of returning the Hobbits to the Third Age."

"Perhaps we could use a Time-Turner," said Professor Flitwick.

"A reasonable thought," said Dumbledore. "It would have to be much more powerful and precise than the usual sort of Time-Turner. Mr. Gates, would you be willing to help Professor Flitwick with this?" The New World Wizard nodded.

"I have one other concern," said Cornelius Fudge. "This Ring is a significant target. It and the Hobbits should be guarded more securely than you can manage, Albus. I would favor housing them and the Ring in Azkaban until they can be sent back."

"I do appreciate your concerns, Cornelius," replied Dumbledore, gazing intensely at Fudge. "But Azkaban is entirely out of the question. It is no place for Hobbits. They are safe here. The Ring is shielded in a locket that cannot be stolen magically. Even if it were taken by physical force, the locket itself can only be opened by a Hobbit, and then only voluntarily, not under the influence of a controlling spell. It is not a permanent solution, Minerva," added Dumbledore, seeing Professor McGonagall's raised eyebrows, "but it offers enough security for the Ring for us to be able to forego Azkaban."

"I suspected you might feel that way, Albus," murmured Fudge, with an odd smile.

"If there is no further business, this council is adjourned," said Dumbledore.

Chapter 9: A Walk in the Forest

Frodo and Sam watched the assembled Witches and Wizards file out of the Council Chamber. Frodo watched Snape particularly; he seemed to be very tired. Suddenly he turned and gave Frodo a malevolent stare, his black eyes glittering. Frodo shuddered, involuntarily.

"Come along, dears," said Professor McGonagall, appearing at their side. "Let's go back to Gryffindor."

Frodo replied, "We were thinking of going to the Great Hall for teatime. Hobbits eat..."

"A lot. I know. Run along then," laughed McGonagall.

But on the way to the Great Hall, Sam stopped and said, "Mr. Frodo, I reckon it won't be too much longer before they figure out how to send us back. I'd really like to see Mr. Hagrid's unicorn again, maybe some of his other magical creatures too, before we go. Fancy another trip down to his cottage?"

Smiling, Frodo agreed. On their way, they ran into Harry. "You shouldn't go about the grounds unaccompanied," he said. "I can go with you, but I'm due for detention in an hour."

A professor that Frodo recognized from the Council seemed to overhear them; a dark man with an intimidating manner, he stopped and peered at the trio strangely. However, this professor did not interfere; in fact he walked off briskly as if he had just remembered a forgotten errand.

"Who is that?" asked Frodo, watching the professor leave. Harry sighed. "Professor Dunkelheitzen, our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." More quietly, Harry added, "He's a little strange; glad he didn't ask us any questions. Come on."

Harry, Frodo, and Sam made their way to Hagrid's house. They found Hagrid out in front. "Oh..." said Hagrid, greeting Harry and the Hobbits. "Sorry. Tha' unicorn's gone, now. It was just here for a little while, recoverin' from a small wound." Seeing Sam's crestfallen face, Hagrid went on, "But they're about in the forest. If yeh'd like to take a little walk, I'm sure we could find another one."

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea," cautioned Harry, as they walked out towards the forest.

"We'll just stay on the outskirts of the forest, Harry," said Hagrid. "Oh, Sam, there's one!" A unicorn pranced by them in a flash of silvery-white. Sam took off running into the forest after the unicorn, with Frodo close behind.

"Stop!" cried Harry. He and Hagrid tried to follow, but the forest suddenly became very thick and tangled. Harry couldn't see where the Hobbits had gone. A bed of fallen leaves and pine needles seemed to muffle every sound.

"Let's split up," said Harry to Hagrid. "You search east of here, I'll search west."

Alone now, Harry picked his way through the dense undergrowth. He saw something white in the distance, obscured by trees. Drawing nearer, he saw a unicorn, bent low. He could just make out the outline of two Hobbits standing next to it. "Hey!" cried Harry, crashing towards them. "Idiots! Don't run off into the forest like that. Not all of the creatures here are friendly."

"Sorry, Mr. Harry," said Sam, rising and walking towards Harry. "We're fine, really..." Then, suddenly, Sam flew into the air. An enormous, long, black, hairy leg had grabbed him and lifted him up. That leg belonged to a gigantic spider, a creature Harry had first met a few years before.

"Aragog!" Harry cried. "Put him down!"

Then Harry realized this was not Aragog; it was not blind. And it was in no mood for conversation. "One of Aragog's children," thought Harry, grimly. "Drat Hagrid and his 'interesting creatures.'" The spider carefully wrapped Sam's struggling body in fine silk. Frodo, weeping and cursing, drew Sting and tried to charge the giant spider; Harry could barely hold him back. Harry drew his wand. "Impedimentus!" he cried. But the curse bounced harmlessly off the spider's dense, hairy hide. The spider hung the now- cocooned body of Sam high in a tree, and turned to face Harry.

Harry, nearly panicked with fright, remembered a spell he had used last year to complete one of his tasks in the Tri-Wizard Competition. Harry lifted his wand. "Accio Firebolt," he cried. In an instant, Harry's broomstick was in his hand. "Get on behind me," he said to Frodo. Frodo hesitated, mindful of his last experience on a broomstick. Then Harry heard rustling in the trees behind them. More spiders were on their way.

"Get on now!" cried Harry. "You have to!" With a small gasp of terror, Frodo jumped on the broomstick.

Harry rose into the air, coming to eye-level with the spider. It grabbed at him with an enormous arm; Harry just dodged out of the way. Frodo's extra weight put him off balance a bit on the broomstick. Staying just out of reach of the spider, Harry tried to draw it off. When he felt they had gotten the spider far enough away, Harry turned back. The spider was not at all fooled. It whirled about instantly and gave chase, grasping at them with its many legs.

Other spiders, at least ten of them, came out of the woods and joined the chase, climbing into the surrounding trees and jumping out at Harry and Frodo, trying to ensnare them with strands of sticky silk. Weaving and whirling and bobbing, constantly changing direction, Harry flew to the tree where Sam was hanging. "Draw your sword," Harry cried.

Frodo was utterly terrified, both of the spiders and the broomstick. He was clinging desperately to Harry with both hands; to release one hand to draw Sting required every bit of courage that he had. But he did draw Sting, and as they flew by, Frodo cut the silken cord from which Sam was hanging. Sam dropped and Harry dove, down, fast on the broomstick. He pulled up abruptly and caught Sam in his arms. The broomstick wobbled and dropped several feet. Frodo groaned.

"It's all right, I'll put you two down the second we get out of the forest," Harry said, speeding away from the angry spiders. But then Harry felt a sudden shiver. He felt cold and sick. He was losing control of the broomstick; it started to pitch and sway. Harry could hear Frodo crying out with fear. More ominously, Frodo's grip began to loosen. Harry knew he had to land immediately, even though they hadn't quite reached the forest edge.

They landed in a small clearing. With a sick, sinking feeling, Harry realized why he felt so cold. Dementors! Everywhere! "And I am already weary," Harry thought. He raised his wand and tried to think of the happiest thing he could; it was not easy. "Expecto patronus!" he cried. A silvery shape glided out of his wand. It held the Dementors back momentarily, but they pressed in further. Harry looked down. Sam was still wrapped up in spider silk. Frodo was swooning and writhing in agony, clutching at his shoulder.

And then, to Harry's surprise, a unicorn stepped into the clearing. "Unicorn!" gasped Harry. "This is all your fault!" He approached the beast; it backed away. "Oh, unicorn! I know you don't like boys; but you liked these Hobbits. Please carry them out of the forest. I can't protect them for much longer." The unicorn bowed and suffered Harry to put Frodo and Sam across its back. It lightly and carefully pranced away. The Dementors seemed to avoid it.

Harry, alone now in the clearing, raised his wand again. "Expecto patronus," came out weakly, a mere whisper. His silvery patronus dissipated quickly. Harry staggered, then fell. Mist and fog overcame him. He heard screaming: the voice of his mother begging Lord Voldemort to spare his life. 'No, not Harry, not Harry!' A Dementor approached him and began to lift its hood.

"Here, tha' won' do at all!" Hagrid had just run into the clearing. He seized Harry's wand and bellowed, "Expecto patronus!" An enormous silver patronus in the shape of a three-headed dog came charging out of the wand. The Dementors scattered. "Nasty buggers," Hagrid said, helping Harry up. "What are they doin' here at Hogwarts, that's what I'd like teh know!"

As the unicorn bore the Hobbits away from the Dementors, Frodo regained consciousness. He groaned and rubbed his shoulder. The unicorn stopped just at the forest edge and bowed. Frodo jumped off, and lowered Sam down. Drawing Sting, Frodo cut Sam's silken bonds. "Are you all right, Sam?" he cried, anxiously. Sam moaned in answer. He couldn't walk; the spider had poisoned him. Frodo tried vainly to carry him.

"Frodo, Sam!" called a somewhat familiar voice. "Are you injured? Can I help?" A Wizard in pin-striped robes and a lime-green bowler hat dashed over to them. Frodo looked up and recognized him. It was Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

"Yes, thank you!" cried Frodo, nearly weeping with relief. "We were in the forest and a great spider tried to eat us. It caught Sam. It poisoned him. And then these creatures came, wraith-like creatures, all around us. And then everything was fog and darkness. I thought I was on Weathertop again. I felt the Nazgul wound!" Frodo clutched at his shoulder in anguish.

"Well I believe this proves once and for all that you are not safe here at Hogwarts. Dumbledore has been most careless, I'm afraid. I've come, actually, to take you to Azkaban, which is a much more secure place for you. No giant spiders there at all," said Fudge. Frodo felt cold again; he looked up and saw that a group of Dementors had assembled behind Fudge.

Frodo did not know what Azkaban was, but from Dumbledore's reaction at the council he supposed it was not a nice place. He also guessed there were Dementors there. With the last of his strength, he tried to run away. Fudge waved his wand and said, "Stupefy!" Both Hobbits collapsed, unconscious, on the ground. Fudge tucked one under each arm and walked briskly down the grounds and out the Hogwarts gate, with the Dementors following. Then he vanished.

Chapter 10: In the Dungeons of Azkaban

Frodo couldn't tell whether he was sleeping or waking. He had no sense of time; he could have been there an hour-a year-he could not tell. All he saw was misty and dark. His old Nazgul wound ached. He felt total hopelessness. He did not long for escape; what was there to escape to? He didn't know. Everything seemed pointless. He had difficulty remembering anything: why he was there, where he had come from. Where was here? There was no there, there. A vast nothingness enveloped him. Fog and despair. Who was he? What was his name?

"Frodo!" a voice whispered urgently.

"Who?" asked Frodo dreamily.

"Frodo, wake up!" hissed the voice, urgently. "I've come to get you out of here." The door to Frodo's cell opened, and a tall, middle-aged, blond man stepped in. "Come on, get up!"

Frodo could hardly stand, much less walk. The man picked Frodo up and put him over his shoulder. Two Dementors flanked him.

"Dementors..." said Frodo, weakly.

"Don't worry. They're on our side," said the man, curtly.

"What about Sam?" asked Frodo, coming back to life slightly.

"We're working on getting Sam out legally," said the man, as he carried Frodo out. "But rescuing you is the highest priority, for now. You can trust me," he added. "I am working with Albus Dumbledore."

The two flanking Dementors that had come with the man glided over to the main guard station. They communicated somehow with the other Dementor guards. There seemed to be a long discussion. The man put Frodo down and watched uneasily.

Frodo, regaining his presence of mind somewhat, felt about his neck for the locket. It was there. Turning away from the man, Frodo surreptitiously opened the locket just a crack, enough to see the glint of gold within. He shut it again instantly.

Finally, the two Dementors glided back. "They believed it. Thank goodness," said the man, hoisting up Frodo again, and walking quickly down the main hall and out the front door.

"How did you..." asked Frodo.

"The Azkaban Dementors think I am bringing you to a secret trial, and that my two Dementors are your guards. It's best if you don't ask me too many more questions."

They passed through the Azkaban gate. The man halted, and shifted his grip on Frodo. "Now Frodo, see here," he said. "This is going to be a little strange. I need to bring you to a safe house, out of the reaches of the Ministry, and the best way is to apparate."

"What is that?" asked Frodo.

"Don't worry about it. Just hang on tight." Suddenly Frodo felt a very bizarre sense of movement. He felt he could see the entire earth around him, really see everything-inside, outside, over, underneath. He could see into houses, underground, underwater, in the air. Some places were entirely blank, however; though he recognized the gate of Hogwarts, he couldn't see anything inside. The movement stopped abruptly, and Frodo found himself, still clutching the man, on the front lawn of an elegant English country estate. The man put Frodo down gently, and led him by the hand to the door.

A servant in full livery answered the door. "Welcome, Master Frodo," he said.

The man said, "I must leave you now, Frodo. You are among friends. You will be safe here." He walked back up the lawn.

Frodo turned and called, "Oh sir, I cannot thank you enough for rescuing me."

The man replied pleasantly, "You are very welcome, Frodo Baggins. We will meet again, I think. Goodbye." He waved and then vanished.

The servant led Frodo into an opulent parlor, and seated him in a soft velvet chair. The servant left; and then returned with a large tray of cakes and pastries, and a carafe of sweet wine, which he set before Frodo, and departed. Frodo remained in his chair. He was hungry, but touched nothing.

"Ah, Frodo. At last, you are here."

Frodo looked up. A tall, slim man had just walked in. He was richly dressed in a brocaded smoking jacket. He stooped down and beamed at Frodo. "This is such an honor. Do you know, Frodo, how very famous you are? I recall when I first read the Red Book. I was just a lad at the time. I remember being so taken with your heroism, your loyalty, your dedication to a hopeless task. I wanted ever so much to meet you."

The tall man gazed for a long moment into Frodo's eyes. Frodo thought that the man was very fair. His lips were full and beautifully shaped. He had wavy dark hair shot through with silver, and long, thick, curling eyelashes. His large eyes were almond-shaped and grey; they seemed to shine with an ethereal light, and held Frodo in an intense gaze. Frodo could not help blushing, and looked away.

"I beg your pardon," said Frodo, "But you remind me of an Elf-not a house- elf I mean, but..."

"I do know what you mean, and I humbly accept your very high compliment," said the man, courteously. He reached for the carafe, and poured wine into two delicate cut-crystal glasses. "Will you have some wine, Frodo?" he said, offering a glass.

"Thank you." Frodo brought the wine to his lips and took a sip. Immediately he felt a tingling warmth penetrate every part of his body, from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes. He drained his glass, then reached for a cake. The cake was delicious, and seemed to augment the effect of the wine. Frodo sighed with relief and contentment. "Thank you. Thank you so much. You and your friends have saved me from a horror worse than death, I think. I am in your debt. If I could ever be of any service to you, Mr.--?"

The elegant man smiled and extended his hand. "Voldemort," he said.

Chapter 11: Treachery

"Over there, Hagrid!" Harry and Hagrid ran to the edge of the forest. They found Frodo's sword Sting lying in the grass. But there was no sign of the Hobbits. They looked up in time to see a train of Dementors heading for the Hogwarts Gate. And leading them was Cornelius Fudge, carrying what appeared to be two small children.

Hagrid swore under his breath. "Fudge! Shoulda' known that if there's Dementors about at Hogwarts, he'd be behind it!" Hagrid had had no love for Cornelius Fudge since the affair with his Hippogryff Buckbeak two years ago.

Harry, utterly shaken, returned to the Gryffindor common room and told Ron and Hermione what had happened.

"I wonder where he took them?" asked Ron.

Harry looked at Ron bleakly. "I have a bad feeling about this. If Fudge brought Dementors, there's a chance he could be taking them to Azkaban."

"Azkaban!" cried Hermione. "He can't put them there! Oh how horrible!"

Harry shook his head. He felt that this was all his fault. Dumbledore had charged him with protecting the Hobbits.

Ron, as if sensing Harry's guilt, said, "Harry, you can't think that you could have stood up to the Ministry of Magic? You're lucky the Dementors didn't kill you!" Harry didn't reply, but put his head in his hands. Then he sat up with a start.

"Oh, as if things couldn't get any worse!" he cried. "I completely forgot. I have detention with Snape tonight. I should have been in his office hours ago."

"Forget about it," said Ron. "Go tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" said Harry, with a hollow laugh. "Blow off Snape. Not show up for detention at all. Right." He stood up. "Better late than never. If I'm lucky, I'll only get detention for a week, not the whole month."

"Maybe Snape will understand," said Hermione. Then, looking at Harry, she said, "Well, maybe not. I suppose you had better go."

Harry strode down the stairs and made his way downstairs with a sinking heart. He had the unpleasant thought that Snape would punish him not only for being late, but also for going about after hours. Harry hoped that he wouldn't find Snape in his office at all. "No such luck," he thought to himself, grimly. The office door was agar, and candlelight could be seen flickering beyond it. Harry knocked gingerly on the door. "Professor Snape?"

"Who is it? What do you want?" a grating, irritated voice answered. "Harry Potter! What are you doing here, skulking about at night?" asked Snape, eyes flashing.

"Please sir, my detention," Harry said. "I-I'm sorry I'm late. I forgot. There was a lot going on this evening. The Dementors, sir. I was trying to protect..."

"I heard all about it," snapped Snape. "As for your detention..." But he hesitated just then. In his fireplace, the flickering flames began to take on a different hue. He sprang out from behind his desk, grabbed Harry, and shoved him out the door. "Out, get out!" he spat. "Back to Gryffindor at once. Detention tomorrow. Go!" Snape slammed the door shut.

Harry started to run up the corridor. Then he stopped, turned around, and crept back to Snape's door. He touched his wand to his ear and whispered, "Auros." Immediately Harry's hearing increased a thousand-fold in sensitivity. He put his ear to the door and listened.

"...You have been given this chance to prove yourself loyal," said a voice behind the door. It wasn't Snape, Harry was sure. "If you fail, it will go ill with you. Use your Key to get to Azkaban."

"Key? A Port-Key! Snape has a Port-Key from Hogwarts to Azkaban!" thought Harry, stunned.

"Collect him," the voice went on. "Everything is arranged. Then apparate to the House."

"Might I be allowed to bring both?" asked Snape, silkily.

"Both?" laughed the other voice. "Do you really think his Lordship would trust you with the One? No, it is safe, and at his House already."

"His Lordship?" thought Harry. "Voldemort!"

"I understand," said Snape.

"Leave now," said the voice. "You are expected immediately."

Harry heard footsteps, then-nothing. He listened for several more minutes. Nothing. He straightened up and steeled himself to bear Snape's wrath. He turned the doorknob; it was open. In his haste, Snape had not locked the door. Harry gingerly stepped inside. He looked around. The office was empty. Snape had vanished!

Harry dashed up the stairs and headed towards Professor Dumbledore's office. His mind was crowded with thoughts. Snape handled the locket, Harry realized. When Frodo fell from the broomstick, the locket flew off. Snape had picked it up, and did not return it willingly. That touch must have corrupted him. He wants the Ring. He has gone back to Lord Voldemort and betrayed us all! "Why, oh why, oh why was I so foolish?" Harry said aloud. "Why did I have to show off on that broomstick?"

Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he ran right into Professor Flitwick, sprawling the diminutive teacher onto the floor. "Harry!" said Flitwick, picking himself up. "What are you doing out after hours?"

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "But it's something urgent; I have to speak to Professor Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonigall have gone to London, to plead with the Ministry for the release of the Hobbits," said Flitwick.

"But I..." said Harry

"Run along, now, Harry. Go back to Gryffindor at once. Do not interfere. This is a matter for teachers to resolve," said Flitwick, decisively.

Harry found Ron and Hermione still sitting dejectedly by the fire in the common room. Hermione looked up, "That was a pretty brief detention, Harry. Was Snape in a good mood?"

Harry shook his head. "Something terrible has happened." Harry related what he had heard at Snape's door.

Hermione shook her head. "A Port-Key from Hogwarts to Azkaban. We've suspected Snape before, groundlessly, but...that is very incriminating." She thought for a minute. "You can't apparate or disapparate anywhere on the Hogwarts grounds...but Port-Keys work..."

"We know," said Ron, impatiently.

Hermione shot him a look. "I wonder...if Professor Snape really is in league with You-Know-Who, he would be subject to repeated summons. But Snape can't apparate from Hogwarts. And I can't imagine that You-Know-Who would be daft enough to have his house on the Floo Network. So....perhaps Snape has another Port-Key...a Port-Key from Hogwarts to the Dark Lord's house. He would need it to get back and forth unobtrusively."

"A Port-Key from Hogwarts to Voldemort's house," whispered Harry, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You said that Snape was directed to go first to Azkaban, and then apparate from Azkaban to the house," said Hermione. Harry nodded. She went on, "So...he might not have brought the Key to Voldemort's house with him, because he wouldn't need it. If we could find this Port-Key, we would have a chance at rescuing Frodo and Sam, and then bring them back here."

"Right," said Ron. "And then all we'd have to do is fight You-Know-Who, Snape, and any other dark Wizards who might be there."

"It's a long shot," said Harry. "We don't know if this Port-Key Hermione is talking about really exists. But it means the end of the world if Lord Voldemort gets the Ring. I am willing to die trying to prevent that, and to rescue Frodo and Sam."

"I am, too," said Hermione, quietly. "Harry, you've dueled with You-Know-Who before. And we'd be there to help you this time."

"I hope it doesn't come to that," said Harry.

"This is suicide," said Ron. "But I'm coming with you."

Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak, and they scrambled down the stairs to Snape's dungeon. Harry held his breath and pushed the door open. The room was still empty. "Now where's the Port-Key," he sighed. "If there is one."

"Port-Keys, as you know, look like ordinary objects," observed Hermione. "I suspect he would put it where he wouldn't brush against it inadvertently, but would still keep it in ready reach. If we start testing objects, we should all hold hands, so we get transported together."

They searched the room hand-in-hand. "That's it!" cried Ron. "A tortoise- shell comb. That must be it!"

"Why do you think so?" asked Hermione.

"Do you think he ever combs his hair?" Ron sniggered. But the comb was not the Key.

Presently Harry said, "Aha! On the mantelpiece. A fountain pen. A muggle pen, not a quill. Snape is no lover of muggle artifacts; why would he have a pen?" Harry grasped the pen. Immediately he felt a strong tugging sensation in his midsection, and a feeling of very fast movement. When they came to rest, the trio found themselves sitting on a soft, sweet-smelling grassy lawn, in front of a vast country estate.

Chapter 12: The Seduction of Master Frodo

Frodo, who had started to offer his hand, recoiled in horror at the name 'Voldemort.' Voldemort gazed at him with stricken, sad eyes. "My dear, dear Frodo, what is the matter?" said Voldemort, taking Frodo's hand and stroking it. "What have they been telling you? Many things are said of me; almost none of them are true."

"They tell me that you seek the Ring," said Frodo, pulling his hand away.

"I seek it," said Voldemort. "But I would not take it from you by force. I had hoped that you might give it to me, freely." Frodo stared at him, defiant. "No? Frodo, you have offered the Ring to others, who refused because they lacked the power to control it. I do have that power. I would use the Ring to do good." Voldemort sat down in a chair opposite Frodo.

"Now, Frodo," said Voldemort. "Know that you are free to go at any time. However, the Ministry of Magic will put you back in Azkaban if they find you. You are safe here; I offer you my home and my hospitality for as long as it pleases you. I can even send you back to the Third Age, if you wish it. In return for my generosity, I would like you to listen to what I have to say.

"Your heroism in the Third Age is widely known. Middle Earth at that time was a place of great beauty, worth preserving. But this modern world is not like Middle Earth. It does not need to be preserved. It needs to be changed." Voldemort put down his wine and stood up. "Come with me, Frodo. There's something I want you to see." He led Frodo out of the estate, pausing to pick up a steaming black cauldron from a small antechamber. They went down a set of stone stairs into a grassy dell. Frodo stared at the silver basin standing on a stone pedestal.

"The Mirror of Galadriel," he gasped.

"Yes, indeed," said Voldemort. "It came into my possession a few months ago. I have been using it not only to see into the past, but to magically reach into it as well. That is how I brought you here, Frodo. But it will still show you visions of the present and the future. Look into it, Frodo, and ask it to show you the Shire as it is today." Voldemort filled the silver ewer with liquid from the cauldron, filled the basin, and breathed on it.

Frodo bent over the basin. When the mists cleared, he saw the green, rolling countryside of the Shire, dotted with neat hobbit-holes. He sighed with pleasure. Then to his dismay, he saw dark roads cut across the land. The hobbit-holes disappeared one by one, and large, ugly buildings took their place. They belched black smoke into the air. Metal boxes on wheels streamed down the roads. The streets were filled with Men; not a hobbit was in sight.

"Let me show you some other things," said Voldemort. And he bade the mirror show Frodo scenes of industrial wastelands, wars being fought and their aftermath, poverty, and desolation. Frodo was speechless in his horror. "I would bring everything back to the way it was," said Voldemort. "I would put things right. And you can help me do it."

Lord Voldemort put his hand on Frodo's shoulder, and gently led him back inside and up to the parlour. He knelt before Frodo, and regarded at him kindly. Then he brushed away Frodo's tears, lightly caressing his face. He poured Frodo another glass of wine. Frodo drank it, grateful for another rush of tingling warmth.

"Frodo, sweet Frodo," Voldemort said, taking Frodo's empty glass. "Do not believe what my enemies have said about me. They fear change. They fear the future. Your friends, or so they call themselves, do not really care about you. They are using you for their own purposes. They would have abandoned you to the horrors of Azkaban, to the Dementors. And they are plotting to send you back to the Third Age, with the Ring, even though your Quest there has already succeeded. They would doom you to needless suffering, torture, and mutilation." Voldemort embraced Frodo, gently stroking his hair. "I want to save you from all that. That is why I brought you here." Voldemort loosened his embrace, and looked into Frodo's eyes.

Looking up into Lord Voldemort's large, grey eyes, Frodo felt his own eyelids grow impossibly heavy. He closed his eyes. Frodo was exhausted from his ordeals with the spider, the Dementors, and Azkaban. He was nearly intoxicated from the sweet wine. He was deeply troubled by what he had seen in the Mirror. And he was completely disarmed by Lord Voldemort's fair face, courteous manner, and kind words. Frodo detected no malice, no threat, no coercion on the part of Lord Voldemort. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps he had just been misunderstood. Perhaps he wasn't a Dark Lord at all....

Frodo's head fell back and his body relaxed. Lord Voldemort gently lowered him to the floor. He undid the top buttons of Frodo's shirt and reached for the locket. "Give it to me, Frodo, my preciousss," hissed Voldemort.

Frodo, now in a twilight state between waking and sleep, heard a voice in his head say, "Yes, yes, take it, take what you want, take the Ring." Voldemort lifted his head and took off the locket. He cradled Frodo's head in his arm, and pressed the locket itself into Frodo's hands. "There is one more thing I need from you," whispered Voldemort, bending his head down. "This locket is enchanted. Only a Hobbit can open it. I need you to do this for me, precious Frodo. Open the locket."

Frodo opened his eyes slightly and looked at the shining silver locket. He thought about the last person to whom he had offered the Ring: Lady Galadriel. Sam had wanted her to take it so that she might put a stop to whoever was digging up Bagshot Row. What had she said to him? 'That is where it would begin. It would not end there, alas.'

At that moment, Frodo realized that his doom was to bear the Ring and never give it away. His fate was to destroy it. Gaining strength from some unknown reserve, Frodo heard in his head his own voice say, "No, never!"

"No!!!" Frodo cried, twisting himself from Voldemort's grasp.

"Frodo, why do you recoil from me?" Voldemort gasped. "I only want to help you." He reached again for Frodo.

"Keep away from me!" Frodo cried. "I want to leave, now!"