Disclaimers: See Chapter 1 for more info.

Frodo awoke in a daze. A part of him was still upset and furious at how his name got put into the Goblet of Fire. But what made the day more interesting, when he got out of bed was the letter he received from Prim, who made her morning run twice a day, every day, ever since he'd been at Hogwarts. Prim dropped the envelope she was carrying into Frodo's lap. It was from Everhart. Maybe he already knew what was going on…

Frodo,

I expected word to reach you by now. But I found out last night that your name had been drawn for the Triwizard Tournament. We'll discuss this further on November 22nd. But I think it's best if you don't write to me yet. I'll write you a follow up letter when I get the chance, or when it gets closer to our meeting on November 22nd.

Until then,

Everhart

Frodo smirked. It seemed Everhart received his letter. And he already knew about his name being drawn in the Goblet of Fire. But how else would he know this unless…

"The timeline, of course," Frodo said. He looked behind him, expecting to see Folco. To his surprise, Folco was nowhere. He must have gone down to breakfast. Frodo followed suit. Only when he came downstairs, he found Aria sitting on one of the blue cushioned couches, sorting through letters.

"Oh. Hello Frodo," Aria said, smiling at him.

"Aria." Frodo said. "You're not mad, are you? About last night?"

"Frodo, I think it's very clear that we should let events run their course…"

"It isn't about that." He said. "It's about my name being put into the Goblet of Fire. You don't have any leads or… or you don't know."

"Like I said, as I have these past three years, we let things run their course," she said. "You look more awake."

"I had a good night's sleep." Frodo said. "Everhart knows. I wrote him a letter last night. I received one this morning." He sat down next to her. "It's not like I expected him to understand."

"By now, half the hobbits, authors and authoresses will know about this," Aria said. "Word travels fast between authors and authoress. I'm sure the hobbits have found out, too."

"So, you're not mad because of this," Frodo said.

"Frodo, we've had three adventures in the course of three years." She said. "Why would I be mad?"

"What about the school?" he asked her.

"Oh, let them sort it out on their own," she said. "Most likely, things will go well. And that's about all I'm telling you before the first task. I just pray that you'll do well. I'm hoping for that."

"Thank you," Frodo said. "Shall we go down to breakfast now?"

Aria nodded. "Well, I sure hope that you'll do well. You have for three years now."

"I guess that's true," he said, following her out the door to the spiral staircase. Well, he could only hope for the best nowadays.

o-o-o

Over the next few days, there was a surge of badges worn amongst the students. Frodo did his best not to think about them, since they were divided amongst students who admired him (since Ravenclaw hadn't won the House Cup since his time at Hogwarts) and the other half who despised him. His best bet was to just let things happen as they should, in the way that Aria told him about future events… if she said much about the subject.

Frodo got a rude awakening when there was a tap on the door to Herbology class. He glanced up from his Bouncing Bulb, doing his best to set it down. He looked up again to see Professor Sprout and Ludo Bagman speaking to each other.

"—All champions have to go," Bagman said.

"Very well," Sprout said. She gestured to Frodo. "Go on now, Frodo. We'll catch up for next class."

Finishing up at his station, Frodo grabbed his bag, realizing he wasn't going to be back in class. In a mad rush, he accompanied Bagman out of Herbology class. The walk led him inside a small classroom, where Harry and the other champions were present. Bagman left him alone a moment later, before regrouping with the others. The classroom was down in the entrance hall, yes… but so were the press.

"Frodo," Harry said. "Surprised as I am? The Daily Prophet's here. And there's press for the hobbit newspaper as well."

"Must be important," Frodo said.

"Ah!" said a thin woman wearing a green dress. "Hello. I'm Rita Skeeter. Now, seeing as hobbits are important people, we'll start with you for the interviews." She snapped her fingers as an auburn-haired hobbit woman, wearing a teal dress, approached. "Madam Fitspinchin, I trust you'll do well interviewing Frodo Baggins, before me. I'll start with Harry Potter." She said, dragging Harry inside a broom cupboard.

"Certainly." Madam Fitspinchin said. "Come with me, Frodo." Frodo followed her over to the fireplace. The moment they sat down, the hobbitess spoke again, complete with a notepad. "So, tell me, Frodo. You entered the tournament because you wanted to redeem yourself, after losing your parents. Is that correct?"

"NO!" Frodo shouted. He calmed down a moment later. "I didn't enter, madam. My name was in the goblet, and…"

"So you did enter the tournament," Madam Fitspinchin said.

"No I didn't—"

"Well, that's enough for me. Thank you, Mr. Baggins," Madam Fitspinchin said. "Go on. Your photoshoot awaits you."

Frodo shivered. Honestly, did everyone think he'd enter the tournament? He was nowhere close to the Age Line. Someone else must have put his name in the goblet. But who and how? He couldn't…

"Pay attention!" the photographer said.

Frodo woke up enough to attempt a smile. But then, he wasn't used to having his picture taken. And how would everyone react once he… once his name and who he was was in the newspapers. To be honest, he hardly knew. He glanced over at Dumbledore when he arrived. The photoshoot was over.

"The Weighing of the Wands is about to start," Dumbledore said, helping Harry out of the broom cupboard. Frodo sighed in relief. Good. He was away from the camera. He looked up at the professor, who spoke to him. "How are you, Frodo? Good."

Frodo nodded. "Very much. As close as I can to being well."

"You'll do fine." Dumbledore said, as another wizard approached. "This is Mr. Ollivander. He will be weighing your wands."

One by one, the wands were checked. Frodo was the last in the line of the champions to have their wands weighed. Then it was Frodo's turn. His wand was still in good condition, but then Frodo had been practicing hand magic a lot.

"Ah yes. I remember this wand," Ollivander said. "Vine and unicorn hair. As I said before, Mr. Baggins, you and this wand are a match. That has been clear since the day you first stepped through my shop."

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Frodo said, gently taking his wand back from the wand maker.

"A few more photos and we should be done for today," Bagman said.

Frodo sighed in dismay. More photos? He dreaded having his picture taken. And yet…

"Smile, Mr. Baggins," Bagman said, brightly.

No, Frodo thought. He needed a clear head. And yet, the flashing lights. How he managed to keep from blinking and still have a smile on his face was beyond him. He was grateful when the photoshoot was over. By then, it was dinner time. Perfect. Well, maybe now he could have a decent conversation with his friends… and Aria. She would be waiting to hear the news. And he did find her, sitting by herself. He knew what he was doing. Quietly, he sat down at the space she left for him.

"Where were you?" Aria asked him, between bites.

"Photoshoots and weighing of the wands," Frodo said. "That's normal, isn't it? I'm not used to have my picture taken."

"You're not from this time, Frodo," she said. "I'm not surprised that you aren't used to it."

"Is that bad?" he asked her.

Aria shrugged. "Well, you are famous in this world. But… look, Folco's not in a good mood. He said it wasn't you. He's broken up with his girlfriend hours before the names were drawn out of the goblet. He still frustrated that you ended up champion. I suppose he has his own issues."

"That explains a lot," Frodo said. He looked up the moment Folco sat down. He hardly looked at him. "Where have you been?" He received no response. "Folco."

"Frodo, you're famous enough as it is for a hobbit. Go on and eat your food. I've got my own problems," Folco said. He paused, admitting in a fluster. "Look Frodo. I don't blame you for being champion for Ravenclaw. It's just… I didn't have an adventure and you always end up with them. Just do us all a favor and leave it alone. I'm eating."

Frodo was stunned. He hadn't heard Folco like this before. Maybe it was his fault… no. Folco wasn't blaming him… or was he. He seemed to be in the middle of whether or not to trust him again. Clearing his head, and figuring Folco needed time to himself, Frodo ate in silence. He walked with Aria back to the Ravenclaw Tower. Folco still wasn't talking to him, but then neither were most of the hobbits in the school. Still… even as he went to bed, Frodo couldn't help but feel responsible for what happened.

Prim dropped on his lap a folded letter. Frodo petted his owl moments before opening it. Inside was a handwritten message from Everhart. So, he did get Frodo's messages.

Frodo,

I'm not sure how convenient this is. While it is wise for me to tell you everything in a letter, and as I know I am safe to come to Hogwarts, this matter is more urgent. Meet me at one o' clock in the Ravenclaw Common Room on November 22nd. Be sure you're alone by then. Let me know as soon as possible if this works for you.

Everhart