By Hibob
Introduction
The story begins just below all of this Feel free to scroll down instead of reading the disclaimers, credits, warnings and all that annoying stuff.
Warning: contains LOTR spoilers. I assume you have read the books, or do not want to. Otherwise you may want to wait before you read this. Then again, you may not. Who am I to judge?
Disclaimers: JRR Tolkien and his estate own the rights to all of the characters and places that are ascribed to his books. In turn, JK Rowling owns the rights to her characters. This story is written without the intent of profit and may not be used for such.
Claims: I hate writing disclaimers, that's why I shove them all into the first chapter. That way I can get them out of the way.
Settings: The story is set in Harry's Sixth Year, (98/99) with little or no references as to what happened the previous year.
Plot: This story is a crossover between the Lord of the Rings and the Harry Potter Stories.
To place the story in a simple framework, a Hobbit appears at Hogwarts, then explains how he got there. After that happens, the story continues.
Chapter 1: A Spell Gone Awry
Lord Voldemort prepared the ritual, calling the wraith to assume the physical form it had in life, and bringing with it the weapon of terror it possessed. The legends spoke of great power but in vague terms. They also talked of its destruction, and its preservation. Little enough to go on, but the obscure parchment spoke of a living vessel, torn from life, to carry it. Voldemort had found the wraith, but somehow it had noticed him and fled. He would have hesitated, but for one thing. The spell would force the wraith to find him.
Pettigrew, more fearful than he had ever been, hid while his master finished his preparations. He also cringed when the backlash of the spell shouted throughout the mansion. Then his master came out of his chamber, cursing a failed summoning spell.
"Wormtail, bring Lucius to me," he demanded, "I have at task for his son, Draco."
*
"Class," Madam Hooch called out, "Today we will cover maneuvering on your brooms. Do you have your partners? Prepare to mount your brooms."
Madam Hooch sighed in dismay. It was a simple lesson for today's class. All the first years had to do were to fly around each other, yet, with few exceptions, they made the simple seem almost impossible. Then, not five minutes into the class, the worst thing happened, a student fell.
"Who is his partner?" She demanded, as she ran to the fallen boy.
"No one, Madam Hooch," said one boy floating about ten feet above her, "He didn't even have a broom."
She knelt by the boy, who was too young to be a student. By his height, she guessed him to be seven or eight. He was barefoot, with feet much too big for a boy his size, and they had hair on them. 'He might be a dwarf,' Madam Hooch thought, but dismissed the idea when she saw his smooth face.
"I saw 'em fall," Hagrid said, running over to help. "Is he hurt bad."
The flying teacher finished a series of waves with her wand, and said, "He seems healthy enough. He has been hurt in the shoulder, but not from the fall. I think he's only unconscious. It should be safe to move him. Do you mind, Hagrid?"
"No Ma'am," Hagrid said, as he picked up the child, adding in a low voice, "Strange one to look at, though."
Madam Hooch dismissed the class, leaving the more reliable ones to see to the brooms. Then she and Hagrid ran to the infirmary. Neither dared ask the one question: Where did he come from? Neither of them knew the answer.
*
"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked. "You keep rubbing your scar."
"Is it hurting," Ron asked with great concern, "We should let Dumbledore know."
"No, it doesn't hurt," Harry said, "It just started feeling funny, as though someone's trying to tickle me from the inside."
Hermione and Ron looked across the table at each other and nodded. They got up and stood on either side of Harry, drawing a questioning stare from him, as well as several others who were in Gryffindor's common room.
"You're going to the infirmary, Harry," Ron told him, "even if we have to carry you."
"He's right," Hermione told him, "It may be nothing, but after last year, I'd feel better if Madam Pomfrey checked it out. If it is something, you even have an excuse to miss Potions.
"That's right," Ron said, "it could affect your quidditch game. When we play Hufflepuff, we want you there."
Harry laughed and got up. "It's no use arguing with you two. I'll go peacefully."
*
"Yes, Father," Draco said to the flame-wreathed face in the fireplace. "I understand your instructions, but it seems funny."
"Don't question me on this, Draco. It is very important. If you see any one or any thing unfamiliar, contact me immediately. If it is a person, and if it is possible, you will want to make friends with it at all costs."
"Yes, Father, I'll do as you say," Draco said. The next instant, the fireplace held an ordinary fire. "Great," muttered Draco, " I had to cajole or bribe everyone in the house for the privacy of this conversation. He added in a mocking voice, "Find a stranger and makes friends with him." His father was not telling him everything, and he could guess who was behind that 'request.' Now he had to spend eleven days trying to think of a reason to get out of taking Pansy Parkinson to the Hallowe'en Dance.
*
"You are in perfect health, Harry," Madam Pomfrey told him, "If it doesn't bother you that badly, I'd suggest waiting for a while to see what happens, but if it gets worse let me know immediately. After all, it has been only twenty minutes from what you've told me."
"Thanks," Harry said, as he stood up, only to sit down again. The door had suddenly burst open. Madam Hooch had pushed him onto the bed telling him to stay there, while Hagrid rushed by carrying a child in his arms. Albus Dumbledore followed them in.
"Put him there," Madam Pomfrey said pointing to a bed. She loosened the child's shirt after waving her wand over the boy. "He has a wound to his left shoulder, too large for a knife, probably a sword, and the blade has been poisoned." She looked up saying, "This wound has been festering for almost a week. Someone tell me what happened, NOW."
Madam Hooch began explaining, while Madam Pomfrey went to her cabinet and began mixing a salve for the wound. "It happened about twenty minutes ago. I had the first years for flying lessons, when the boy suddenly appeared out of nowhere, about ten feet in the air. He fell to the ground. Hagrid was nearby. He saw what happened and came over. We verified that there where no broken bones or internal injuries, then rushed him straight to you."
Albus Dumbledore glanced at Harry, noting that he jumped when the time was mentioned, but said nothing.
Madam Pomfrey returned to the boy, applying the salve liberally. Next she took her wand and cast a retrieval spell. A small bit of metal appeared in a dish and, to Poppy's dismay, dissolved immediately. She then took a flask and raised the boy's head, feeding the potion into his mouth and forcing him to swallow.
"He'll live, but that wound will never heal properly," she said.
"Do you know what caused it, Poppy." Dumbledore said, standing near the doorway.
"No, it was a blade of some kind, poisoned, and with a nasty spell on it. That piece that I extracted was actually burrowing its way to the boy's heart. He is very lucky to be alive, even now." She paused, and looked at the headmaster. "By the way, Albus, this may be coincidence, but Harry came in complaining that his scar 'felt funny.' It seems his scar started affecting him around the same time that our small friend arrived."
Albus looked over at the boy lying on the bed, "What odd shoes he's wearing."
"Those aren't his shoes, Albus," Poppy said with a grin, "those are his feet."
Hermione moved closer to get a better look at the odd boy. He was maybe forty inches tall, with brown curly hair, on his head, and on his oversized feet.
"How old is the boy," Albus asked, "from his height I would guess six or seven, but his face look older than that."
The nurse grinned at the guess. "I can't be sure, Albus, because he is not human, but he should be in his mid-thirties. He is no boy, I can assure you. Look at what he was carrying."
Over at the side table, Madam Hooch had placed the boy's belongings. There was a short knife, a stone and flint, a pouch of what looked like tobacco, and a broken clay pipe.
"Do you suppose he might be a dwarf," Ron asked, from his position near Harry,
"No," said Hermione, in recognition, "He's a hobbit. I read about them, over the summer."
"I've read that book, too," Harry said, "But shouldn't hobbits be fatter."
Albus stared at Harry, then at Hermione. "To tell you the truth, I've never heard the word before today. I'm surprised that muggles would know of them, while the wizarding world would not."
Suddenly Hermione began to turn pale, as she backed away, shaking her head.
"Hermione," Dumbledore said loudly to get her attention. "What is it? What did you see?"
"The chain....around his neck." She said fearfully, "It has a ring attached to it."
"I'll take a look at it," Madam Pomfrey said, bending over her patient.
"NO, DON'T TOUCH IT." Hermione screamed.
Albus grabbed Hermione by the arms to keep her from waving them about. Her turned her to look at him, saying, "You need to keep control of yourself. You have to tell us what you know."
Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath. "I read about him in the book. His name is Frodo Baggins."
Harry tried to laughed, saying, "You mean like in the Tolkien Book. You've got the name wrong. It's Bilbo.. Professor, there's a book called The Hobbit by a muggle writer named Tolkien," Harry explained. "It's a childrens book."
"And in the story is there a ring?" Albus asked.
"Yes, Sir. The Hobbit in the story finds a magic ring which turns him invisible."
"Sounds like a cool story," Ron said.
"He wrote a second book, Harry," Hermione said. "This hobbit comes from that book."
"This hobbit?" Dumbledore asked.
Hemione nodded, "That's why it's so hard for me, Sir. He isn't just a hobbit, he's a specific hobbit. His name is Frodo Baggins, and on the chain, he has The One Ring. That's why I yelled at Madam Pomfrey not to touch it."
"Hermione," Harry said, "He can't be a fictional character."
Madam Pomfrey took the floor, "Since you yelled at me, Hermione, then tell me what the One Ring is, so that I can get back to my patient."
"There was a poem at the beginning of the book that explained it. 'Three rings for the Elvin-kings under the sky. Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne in the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie. One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them. In the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie.'"
"Nice poem," Ron said, sarcastically.
No one spoke for almost a minute. Then a moan was heard from the bed. "He's coming around," Madam Pomfrey said quickly "He needs to sleep longer in order to heal, I'll get a potion."
Hagrid was by the bed, trying to keep the patient from thrashing about. Dumbledore went over to help, and he immediately calmed down, calling out, "Gandalf," in a relieved tone. Sensing the mood, Poppy handed Albus the potion to give to the patient. Albus assured him it was to help him, and he drank it without hesitation.
"Can you tell me what he said?" Dumbledore asked Hermione.
"He called you Gandalf," Hermione told him. "Gandalf the Grey was a powerful wizard, and a close friend of his."
Albus sat in thought for a minute, then looked at his pocket watch. "Miss Granger, there is a muggle town, not too far from here, if you know where to go. They have one of those indoor markets they call a 'mall.' It is early enough for the shops to be open, and I want a copy of that book. Several copies. Our little friend is going to be asleep for a couple of days, and we have a lot of reading to do. I have some muggle money in my office, and I trust you to be careful with your broom. Perhaps Mr. Potter could help you."
*
"I've got eight sets, Sir," Hermione said, two hours later. "The clerk was suspicious, but I disappeared as quickly as I could. It's not easy flying a broomstick with a load of books while wearing an invisibility cloak."
"Well done, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "Now comes the hard part. Take a set of the books and start reading. Give Mister Potter a set, as well as Mister Weasley. Read everything carefully, even if you have already done so." With that, he sat down with his own set of books, saying, "Now, let us find out about hobbits."
*
Draco was very confused. There was someone in the infirmary, a stranger, but Madam Pomfrey said he was very ill, and not to be disturbed. That was not surprising, but she was holding a book. Draco didn't think anything about it, until he saw Harry Potter carrying the same book. It would have been coincidence, except for seeing the Weasel with a copy of the book, as well. Draco informed his father of the results of his spying, and the next morning he receive his own copy. Now he was trying to figure out what a children's story about short people had to do with his father's requests. He forced himself to read quickly, and at the end of the day, he finished the book. He was flipping through the last pages, when he came across a notice that the tale was continued in The Lord Of The Rings. As he was writing an urgent letter to his father, a fellow student dropped a package on his bed. It was a set of three books, from his father. He threw his quill down, and grabbed the package, ripping it open
Draco did not know it, but dozens of wizards and witches were reading the book he had picked up, The Fellowship of the Ring. All of them knew it was important, although only a few knew why. Outside of the confines of Hogwarts, only one person knew, and He will not be named.