A/N: The part at the begining, in the italics is taken directly from The Two Towers, except for the last line, which I changed. There's alot of diologue in this chapter, sorry. Just how it turned out.

Yes, I realise that everyone is acting incredibly out of character. That was on purpose, you know.

Disclaimer: Boromir and the bit at the beggining belongs to Tolkien. The Harry Potter Universe belongs to Rowling.

Chapter One

Other . . . world?

Boromir opened his eyes and strove to speak. At last slow words came. "I tried to take the ring from Frodo," he said. "I am sorry. I have paid." His glance strayed to his fallen enemies; twenty at least lay dead there. "They have gone: the Halflings: the Orcs have taken them. I think they are not dead. Orcs bound them." He paused and his eyes closed wearily. After a moment he spoke again.

"Farewell, Aragorn! Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! I have failed."

"No!" said Aragorn, taking his hand and kissing his brow. "You have conquered. Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace! Minas Tirith shall not fall!"

Boromir smiled.

He did not speak again.

It truly was a terrible storm.

The clouds boiled angrily. Lightning flashed in great forks.

As Boromir gazed at the sky, his first thought was, 'It is extremely quiet.'

His next thought was, 'What?'

He sat up and the first thing he saw was that his horn was cloven in two. 'Damn. Father's going to have a fit.'

That was when he remembered that he was dead.

It was not a particularly pleasant thought.

Once the stream of curses abated, Boromir could imagine Faramir telling him not to be childish and to explore the place where he would be spending all eternity.

He was in a large hall. Four long tables including the one that he was sitting on took up the majority of the space.

The ceiling, he concluded, must have been made of glass for how else could he have been able to see the storm?

It was then that he noticed that the hall was lit by floating candles. It was the most . . . bizarre thing that he had ever seen.

Slowly he climbed off of the table, turned, and came face to face with a pair of bright blue eyes.

With a cry of surprise, Boromir leaped back and raised his sword protectively, which he had only just noticed was in his hand. It also came to his attention that it was broken near the hilts and would therefore not be much use, but it would have to do.

The elderly man who belonged to the pair of Bright Blue Eyes smiled and said something in a language that Boromir did not understand.

"I do not understand you," said Boromir. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Blue Eyes looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, and then smiled. He pointed a small wooden stick and said something that sounded like, "Translatioso."

"There," Blue Eyes said, "now we can understand each other! Isn't that just spiffing?"

Boromir was not quite sure how to respond to that comment, so chose to ignore it. "Who are you," he repeated.

"Why, I'm, Albus Dumbledore!" He looked surprised that Boromir did not know. "I'm the Headmaster of Hogwarts! Which is where we are. I'm also the Greatest Wizard in the world!"

Boromir lowered his sword slightly. "You are a Wizard?"

Albus Dumbledore nodded enthusiastically. "Of course I am! So are you, how else could you be here? Speaking of which, how on Earth did you get here? It's impossible to Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, I would know! Where do you come from? Why don't you speak English? Your clothes are incredibly old fashioned. And you have a sword!"

Boromir gaped at him, struggling to follow all that the man had said, and unsure which question to answer. Finally he sputtered, "I got here the, uh, the normal way . . . I died . . . . That is the only way to get here, is it not?" He was feeling quite perplexed and did not like it. Dying should not be so complicated.

Then Albus Dumbledore burst out laughing. "Dead? Ha ha, that's a good one! Dead, he says! Ha ha ha!" Wiping tears from his eyes, Albus Dumbledore added, "Seriously, how did you get here?"

Boromir by now was rather frustrated, and as a result was getting a headache.

"I do not understand what you mean! I am dead! That is it! This is the Realm of Mandos. Could you direct me to a woman called Finduilas? Or am I to spend eternal damnation trying to understand the babblings of senile old - !" He cut himself off with a sigh, passing a hand over his face. Slightly calmer, he said, "Is this a test?"

Albus Dumbledore was beaming at him as happily as ever. "My incredible mind has deducted that you are from another world! Isn't that spiffing? Anyways, I have come to the conclusion that you died in said world, but instead of going to the Underworld of wherever, you popped up here instead!"

"Other . . . world?" Boromir asked weakly.

Albus Dumbledore ignored him. "Therefore, there is only one thing to do. You must become a student here!"

Boromir stared at him. Of all things that he might have said, this was not what he had expected. "What?"

"Well, obviously, we can't have you wandering around a world that you know nothing about – especially if you're going to wave a sword around. It would create a big mess that I would probably have to clean up. Besides, do you have any suggestions?

"You could – "

"I thought not. Now, without any further ado . . ." Albus Dumbledore pushed sleeves up to his elbows and cleared his throat. He waved his stick around extravagantly.

"Wait, what are you –"

"Youngificus Elevenus!"

The thing that happened next was probably one of the most unpleasant things that Boromir had ever experienced. He began to shrink.

It started with the tightening of the skin. He felt like he was being squeezed through a much too small tunnel. His bones started to feel like jelly as they shrunk in on themselves. His beard fell off and his face grew smaller and more pointed. His trousers fell down, but that did not matter because his tunic was now ankle length and the bottom of his surcoat lay heaped on the floor.

He opened his mouth to let out a stream of profanities that he had been saving for moments like these (not that he had ever expected to be turned into an eleven-year-old), however the only thing that he managed was, "Blast."

"There!" Albus Dumbledore said, overly cheerful, as ever. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Boromir sent him a look that would have made Albus Dumbledore drop dead on the spot, had looks been able to kill. Luckily for Dear Old Albus, and anybody else who had ever been on the receiving end of a Killer Look (commonly know as a Death Glare), there was no known recording of anyone ever coming to their demise from said Look.

"Oh, do cheer up, Old Chap. You do bring one down. Come, I'll introduce you to the rest of the Staff!" Albus Dumbledore skipped down towards one end of the Hall, towards a High Table that Boromir had not noticed before. Sitting at it were several adults quietly eating and conversing amongst themselves, as if strange people appearing out of thin air happened every day. As it so turns out, this was not far off the mark.

"Hello, everyone! This is – what did you say you name was?"

"Boromir Denethorion."

Albus Dumbledore laughed. "That's a funny name. Anyways, from left to right is: Hagrid, Professor Quirrel, Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall, me, Professor Flitwick, Professor Snape, and a bunch of other people who aren't important right at the moment! Now then, Hagrid!"

The giant man at the end of the table (Hagrid, apparently), leapt to his feet so fast that he nearly knocked the table over. "Yessir, Professor sir!"

"Are you finished? Yes, of course you are. I want you to take you Borememore Densnore to Diagon Alley and get his school stuff. This," he said to Boromir, extravagantly (so extravagantly, in fact, that he nearly took Boromir's head off) taking an envelope out of his pocket, "is for you. Now, then, off you go! See you tomorrow!"