Disclaimers: All material from The Lord of the Rings trilogy belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. All material and passages from the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling. All I own is the plot, original characters, etc.
Welcome to Book 3 in the Hobbit Wizards series!
I'm excited to work on this story because it's the time with Harry's third year at Hogwarts, in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. From that excitement also comes the trickiest book I have to work with for this crossover because of two things that I won't spoil here for those who haven't read The Prisoner of Azkaban.
For now, enjoy the Baggins Family Tree. :)
Frodo Baggins raced across the brown soil, brushing and bumping into the green corn stalks. He was running, in an effort to avoid the three dogs barking and charging his way. In his arms were his share of freshly grown orange carrots, a brown sack filled to the brim with juicy brownish-white mushrooms, and two green cabbages. The cabbages were small, but enough to fill his stomach and delight his heart.
Frodo, thirteen but turning fourteen on September 22nd, was skinny. He had grown a few inches over the summer, making him about as tall as an average thirteen-year-old hobbit boy. His curly brown hair covered his head and toes, but were drenched from his flight across the corn field. His eyes were bright blue, with a face as fair as the elves, or so he heard from the local hobbits in Buckland. As for his clothes, on that morning, he wore a light blue vest, a white dress shirt – now drenched in sweat, and tan breeches with white suspenders holding them up.
Ever since his parents' boating accident, he wasn't the same hobbit lad. Sure, he had a perky side, which was greatly helped by his friends at Hogwarts and in Brandy Hall. And yet, his shyness didn't evade him, only grew into where he became a polite hobbit, if not having the mischievous streak that got him into trouble all too often. If there was one thing he was receiving in Buckland was the girls beginning to notice him. Frodo couldn't help it, and yet even he was growing fond of girls… well, not too much. Then again, he was still finding it hard not to become attracted to them as well.
But on this day, late in June, Frodo had left Brandy Hall early for his morning walk. However, he was stopped by his Aunt Esmeralda, who checked him to make sure he wouldn't mess up his new clothes:
"Come back home before dark, Frodo. You don't want to get your new clothes dirty," Esmeralda told him.
"Yes, Aunt Em," he said, darting out the front door.
That was the last time Frodo spoke to Aunt Esmeralda. As for now, his situation lay with leaving Farmer Maggot's land – a land he chose to steal edible mushrooms for his own use, his own purpose – in an effort to get as far away from Maggot's dogs as possible. Only he crashed against a metal purple wall, collapsing on his back.
"Oh!" Frodo cried, watching his delectable foods strewn across the road and on the stone bridge behind him. Recovering seconds later from the unexpected blow, his gaze fell on the triple decker purple bus with a metal staircase at the end, leading to the inside of the ship. A rustling sound close by turned his gaze over to a golden furred dog, staring right at him on the cobbled stone road. What was –
"Welcome to the Knight Bus Two," said a burly dark haired hobbit man, holding a notecard and reading aloud, "a bus transportation for the stranded or troublemaker hobbits. When said troublemaker hobbits – that's you, mate – arrive at the destination of their choosing – or destinations – they are to wait for instruction by the authorities." He put his notecard away, smiling at Frodo, "Hullo mate. My name is Herman, the current conductor on this vessel." He looked the hobbit lad over, addressing him promptly, "You've been in Farmer Maggot's land, haven't you, um… what's your name?"
"Frodo Baggins," Frodo answered truthfully. It was better than telling a lie, at least. As he stood up, he asked Herman, "So, that's your name. It's Herman1, isn't it?"
"Just climb aboard," Herman said, gesturing with a thumb inside the bus.
"I didn't think the Shire and Buckland provided buses," he said, in awe of the bus.
"Just hop on in. We don't have all day," the hobbit conductor said, annoyed.
Frodo glanced over at the side of the bus. The golden dog retreated down the road. Odd that a dog was following him, but if the dog had a master, well… he didn't know. He returned to the present, discovering he was already climbing up the steps. He looked back at Herman the gentle-hobbit one last time, who paraded him into the bus.
Inside, Frodo discovered there were beds in replace of seats. A glass chandelier hung above, revealing a set of beds two stories up. As he sat down on the bed nearest to the driver, Frodo's gaze returned to the hobbit conductor.
"That'll be fifteen shekels. But if you want a chocolate bar, it'll be five galleons extra," Herman told him.
Frodo pulled out ten galleons. "Will this do?" He passed the hobbit conductor the wizard money.
"Ah. An honest thief." Herman said, taking the money. "Where did you get these from?"
"My vault." Frodo admitted, "It's a long story."
"I see." Herman asked, as he passed to Frodo a chocolate bar.
Frodo discovered the wrapper said in gold lettering: Hogsmeade's Best Milk Chocolate. Of course, he remembered his permission slip to Hogsmeade. He also remembered the conversation he had the other night with Saradoc and Esmeralda:
"Uncle Saradoc, I received this permission slip for Hogsmeade and I…" Frodo was cut off by Saradoc and Esmeralda.
"Permission slip?" Esmeralda's eyes beamed in delight.
"Let me see it." Saradoc gestured for the form. Frodo passed it to him without delay. Saradoc looked it over, before admitting, "Hand it to me after breakfast tomorrow. I'll sign it then."
Frodo remembered the conversation, but also the fact that Saradoc signed the form, allowing Frodo to go to the village for his third year at Hogwarts. He remembered putting the slip in his trunk; however, he couldn't go near his trunk or anywhere else. He was stuck on a bus heading for… well, he didn't know.
"Where are you heading?" Herman asked.
"The Authors' Campus," Frodo said, hoping he would get access there.
"All right, we'll make one short trip." Herman pulled out a newspaper. "But only authors and authoresses are allowed inside the campus. Hobbits like us aren't allowed."
"We… We aren't," Frodo asked, surprised.
Herman tapped on the driver's window. "Let's go Filbert. Time's a wasting."
Before Frodo had the chance to open his chocolate bar, the Knight Bus Two gave a loud BANG and sped up down the streets and through a whirlpool portal. Frodo managed to grab hold of the railing, hoping he wouldn't be thrown over again. After several seconds, and seeing some flying animals racing through the air, past the windows outside the bus, they were pulled out of the portal and down a long, wide street. Frodo managed to keep his balance as the bus suddenly stopped, but it was very hard to keep hold of the bed railing.
"The Authors' Campus," Herman said, not in the least surprised, except for taking Frodo's smooshed chocolate bar. "That's not good. Let's wait until we're at the proper destination, before I hand you another bar."
"It's not open," Frodo said, but also surprised that his chocolate bar ended up squished in his hand. It must have been a typical display then. And yet, when he returned his gaze to the window, he saw a fence, but also several huge buildings. But where was Aria? Wasn't she supposed to be here?
"Hold on. Only authors and authoresses are allowed indoors…"
"Herman, I'm well aware of that, but I have friends over there," Frodo tried to explain.
"That's the rules, Mr. Baggins, and I don't make them here," Herman said, his voice caring.
"No. I was told a month ago that I was allowed to…"
"That's the new rule the Authors' Campus has bestowed. I can't imagine why." Herman moved the newspaper closer to his face.
Frodo plopped down on the bed once again, in defeat. Just when he thought he and Aria would be together at the Authors' Campus, another conundrum… hey. There was something on the newspaper. A face he didn't recognize.
"Who's that, on the newspaper you're reading?" Frodo asked the hobbit conductor.
"It's Everhart Boffin." Herman said. He read on, "'A famous navigator… nearly been to Azkaban twice on his exploration trips.' Ha! When they find Everhart this time, he'll be after a juicy story." He turned to the teenage hobbit boy. "But we don't have to worry about him, or this authors' campus." He asked next, "Where is the destination you want to go?" Before Frodo had the chance to grab the newspaper, Herman put it away. "Where?"
"Huh?" Frodo said in realization, "The Leaky Cauldron. Do you want me to describe it?"
"No! We know where the Leaky Cauldron is." Herman added, after telling Filbert the bus driver the details of their next stop, "The Leaky Cauldron's usually the place where we send irresponsible hobbits, such as yourself."
"Right –" Frodo was cut off by another tremendous BANG! Once again, he was thrown back on the bed. Objects flew and moved with the bus. He just managed to keep his stomach together – although a bad taste entered his mouth a few times – when the bus stopped on a lonely street. Frodo looked up at the windows, only to discover it was nearly sunset. He hadn't been on this cobbled street before.
"The Leaky Cauldron," Herman said, passing to Frodo a fresh bar of Hogsmeade's milk chocolate. "On you go."
"Wait. What about my luggage, and my aunt and uncle?" Frodo asked, as he was shooed off the bus.
"They've already been informed," Herman said. "Now go on."
By the time Frodo stepped off the bus, he found in seconds that he was a human teenage boy again and apparently grown a few inches taller from his last visit in the Wizardry World. He turned around once, to find the Knight Bus Two already vanished down the street, leaving with it two balls of light flying in the air. Leaving the matter be, Frodo turned the doorknob at the pub. He stopped when the door flew open to reveal the innkeeper and a portly man with a bowler hat.
"Ah, Frodo! Come in." As soon as Frodo stepped inside the pub, the man with the bowler hat and straight-pinstripe coat introduced himself, "Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic." Fudge told him, as they made their way upstairs, "Tell me, lad. What have you been up to?"
"Don't you know?" Frodo asked, confused.
"Ah yes. About that… we'll get to that matter as soon as we can." Fudge opened the door to a small parlor. "Sit down. Your cousins are here as well."
"What cousins?" Frodo asked. He was confused. Oh, maybe it was his aunt and uncle – and just on cue, his gaze met a brown-haired hobbit couple. He knew right away who they were, as the brown, curly haired woman, who still retained her hobbit feet and pointy ears, embraced him. "Aunt Esme, I'm fine."
"You nearly gave me a fright," Esmeralda said, concerned. She brushed off his clothes. "Frodo, look at your clothes. You were in Farmer Maggot's land again."
"What?" Frodo was stunned. How did she know?
"Well, look at the state you're in," Esmeralda said in dismay. To Frodo's grief, his aunt dusted off his clothes with her hand.
"What would you have me do?" he asked her. That was a great question, Frodo thought to himself.
"Frodo, because you came by Knight Bus to the Leaky Cauldron," Saradoc explained, "your cousin and I have agreed to grant you permission to stay here and eventually come to Hogwarts for the year." He added, "That said, I understand how hobbit children like to come and go through Farmer Maggot's land. But Mr. Maggot is a good and decent friend to the Brandybucks. He's had more trouble with you lately, Frodo."
"I know," Frodo said, sheepish. But did he know how huge he was in trouble… "Am I in trouble?"
"I think your venture on the Knight Bus is trouble enough for this evening," Saradoc said. Frodo looked up at him, meeting his cousin's forlorn gaze. "The Minister of Magic has agreed to let you stay at the Leaky Cauldron and in Diagon Alley. If you can be good, even when you reach Hogwarts, we'll…"
"Would this have to do with Everhart Boffin?" Frodo asked, confused. "Sirs, ma'am?"
A silence fell among the room, which everyone noticed. Saradoc was the first to tell Mr. Fudge, "Mr. Fudge, we'll escort Frodo to his room. It's uh…"
"Room 12," Tom said, "All his luggage and his owl will be waiting for him there."
"Thank you, Tom," Frodo said.
"One more thing to keep in mind, while you're here, Frodo, is to stay out of trouble this time," Fudge told him.
Frodo, unsure what everything from this morning meant, followed Tom, as well as aunt and uncle, down the hallway. His room was at the end of the hallway, where he said his farewells to Saradoc and Esmeralda. It was then, when they left the pub, that Frodo felt like he was on his own. The moment he opened the door to Room 12, his owl was present in her cage. His trunk was situated next to a twin-sized bed, which thankfully had all his clothes, books, and school supplies.
He sighed in relief. Maybe now that he was away from Farmer Maggot's land, he would stay out of trouble. Or maybe if he were lucky, he would meet his friends in Diagon Alley. As soon as he washed and changed into a green vest, white dress shirt, and grey-green breeches, Frodo left his room, locking the door along the way, before heading downstairs to the dining room.
It was nearly time for dinner.
Thanks for reading. :)
Footnotes:
1. Herman: the name for this hobbit was inspired by the Rogers and Hammerstein's play adaptation of "Cinderella". For the purposes of this story, the hobbit conductor's name Herman, followed with Frodo's follow-up question is a play-on-words with said play. Also, it was really neat playing homage to the musical of said play.
