What went wrong?

Disclaimer: I own nothing. At all. Not even the clothes I'm wearing. Joke.

But really, I don't own 'Harry Potter' or 'Lord of the Rings', so don't sue.

I feel I owe an explanation to the origins of this fic. I wrote the beginnings of this with my friend a LONG while back when we were on a sugar high (as you can imagine) and have now decided to see what your reactions will be to this temporary loss of sanity on our behalf. So please review, and if you like it we will be more than happy to continue. We are, after all, still on that sugar high…

Dun dun dun dun dun duuuun dunduun dundun dudundun dundun DUNDUN

Chapter One

It was a bright sunny day, a perfect day for the famous Harry Potter and co. to be in Hogsmeade. With them they were carrying a bag full of food for Harry's ex-con godfather, Sirius Black. They were all slightly muddy because on the way Draco Malfoy and his friends (Crabbe and Goyle), their old-time rivals, had pinched Ron's bum, and Harry had got jealous and started a fight. Although it was really OK because they were planning to tell Sirius about Harry's rival for not only life and fame, but Ron's affections, so Sirius could change into a dog and take a bite out of Draco's leg. Hermione was in a huff because it was not about her that the boys were fighting, and Vicky (aka Victor Krum) had owl-mailed to say that he had fallen for some straight-haired Norwegian.

"Look Ronie! (sigh of love)," Harry exclaimed, jumping up and down and pointing like he'd just been given Honeydukes. "It's a muggle newspaper! You've always wanted to see one!" Harry giggled.

"Wow Harry! You're my hero! At least somebody cares that I wanna see muggle things." At which point Ron stared pointedly at Hermione.

"Oh jeez! What do you mean somebody? What about that muggle Gimli poster I gave you that you always sigh and stare at? It's almost as if you fancy him! And that newspaper was just lying on the floor, so shut up, Ronie." Said Hermione as she bent to pick it up. "I wonder what a muggle newspaper is doing in Hogsmeade?"

"Voldemort put it there to kill us all! Don't touch it! You'll be cursed!" Hermione paused then straightened, leaving the newspaper untouched.

"Oh Ronie," Hermione comforted. "Neville Longbottom killed Voldemort years ago. You know that."

"But he hurt you Harry-munchkins. I was so worried. He'll come back again! AAAHHHH!"

"Look here Ron! 'Cos I'm the smartest and have bigger hair than you two, do what I say. I say we all touch it at the same time, because it couldn't possibly curse us all!"

"You're a genius Hermione!"

"I know," Hermione blushed at Harry's words. "OK, let's do this. On my count of three, we all bend down to pick it up."

"Why do we want to pick it up?" Ron questioned.

"Shut up and do as your told," Harry said. "Listen to the genius."

Hermione blushed again.

"One...Two...Three!"

As the three bent over in unison and picked up the soggy 'Daily Telegraph' a familiar feeling gripped them. It felt like an air hook picking them up by their navel and spinning them around.

"Oh shi-"

"Well that was random. What was the point of that, and what was a portkey doing in the middle of Hogsmeade?"

"Can't you tell Hermione? Voldemort planted it for us! It can't curse all of us huh?"

"Shush Ron." Hushed Harry. "Hermione, don't question the genius' that wrote this. It is called artistic license and in future try to keep your language to English, we can't have people thinking we're some kind of under-bred witches or wizards can we? Now we've got to figure out where we are. We are in some kind of forest. Any ideas?" When Harry had finished the most boring one-sided conversation ever written, a booming voice (it sounded more like creaking) rolled over the hills from a distance.

"I want me some Entwife!"

"Oh shi-"