Disclaimers: See Chapter 1 for more info.

Acknowledgements: To TooLazyToLogin for giving me the original idea for this series. To DoctorWhovian18, for her ideas on pranking, ideas on other things about the story, her advice and helpfulness, and the list go on. To LOTCR, for her ideas for this story and its coming chapters. I'd also like to thank ValueMyHeart for reviewing, following, and favoriting this story. To all my readers who are favoriting, following, and reviewing this story. And I'd also like to thank Frodo and the hobbits for their help with this story as well. Yes, that sounds crazy to the normal readers, but I'm still thanking Frodo and his friends anyway.

DoctorWhovian18 and Frodo did remind me that, at this age, before what happens to his parents, Frodo did have friends and enjoyed being around friends. I know there's a reason for why Frodo was acting like a loner, and that reason is coming up. Also, the chapter was moving too fast again, so it's time to slow it down once more. This is not a fast-paced story.

The first feeling Frodo felt was relief; relief that he was home, in a familiar land. Sure, Hogwarts was great and all, and he might never see the wizardry world or its students again, but the Shire was what he was all too familiar with. Frodo had friends here, friends who would be asking what became of him. Even Fatty must be around somewhere, waiting to hear the most extraordinary news. Either way, Frodo was happy to be home and that was all that mattered, right?

As he followed Aria into the Entrance Hall, Frodo thought he heard Aria squeal like a little fangirl. Frodo heard the term from Fred and George Weasley, but somehow the hobbit boy could never fully grasp what that word meant. True, Frodo was still jealous of Harry Potter and his fame, but hearing it from Aria made Frodo come to grasp with the word 'fan'. It had grown tiresome after a while, with Harry and all, but Frodo was certain now that Aria must be a fangirl, too.

Uh oh, thought Frodo, making the immediate assumption that Aria would be pelting him with dozens of questions about him and his family. He knew he needed to stop her before she went fan-crazy.

Shortly after setting their cloaks on the rack, Frodo's small cloak as well, Drogo and Primula invited Aria into the dining room. Frodo followed, catching a glimpse of the night sky through the wide parlor window, before following his family past the kitchen and into the large dining room.

In the dining room was a maple dining table long enough to fit at least a dozen family members. The chairs were also made of maple wood and were fourteen altogether. Along the walls was large kitchen storage furniture, filled with an assortment of clean dishes. There weren't very many of the kitchen storage cabinets and they were narrow, but wide enough to fit a large amount of dishes. Aria was impressed by this dining room. She felt at home here, but then the whole hobbit house felt welcoming. Frodo sat down across from Aria as Primula came out of the kitchen with dishes full of food. This was their supper and Frodo knew it.

Drogo pointed out to Frodo, "Your mother and I already ate our dinner and supper, but you two children are more than welcome to help yourselves."

"Thank you, Papa," said Frodo, showing off a cheery grin.

Aria perked up and asked, as she ate down a chicken leg, "Frodo looks happier, like he's at peace. You want to tell me why that is."

Frodo was a bit confused by the question. He said, chipper, "I'm just happy to be home."

Drogo admitted, truthfully, "I will admit, before this whole business with wizardry and sorcery, Frodo has always had a lot of friends. His life has been a pleasant one."

"His letters were most distressing. Frodo wanted to go home," Primula turned to her son, "but your father and I made it clear that you could not go home. You had to stay at Hogwarts. After a while, these distressing letters stopped coming. But you know, Frodo, this is only until your Christmas/Yule holidays ends and you'll be back at Hogwarts."

There was a pause in the conversation. Frodo looked up, a distressful look swept across his face, "What?"

"You have to go back to Hogwarts, son," said Drogo, hoping Frodo would understand.

But Frodo hardly grasped what this meant. Surely he would be staying at home, forgetting the whole ordeal with magic. It's what he wanted. "But Papa, Mama, I'm happy here. I'm home. Shouldn't there be some sort of a way to stay behind?"

"Son, you have to go back," said Drogo.

"Don't you love me?" asked Frodo to his parents. He ignored Aria in this moment, nearly forgetting she was there.

Drogo told him, sincere, "Son, we do love you, but there has to be a time when you can stand on your own."

"I'm not ready for this. I didn't ask for any of this," snapped Frodo. "You can't make me go back."

"But do you love it there?" asked Primula. This jolted Frodo out of his own reverie.

Why would his mother ask him this question? And yet he knew how to answer. "Of course I do. Hogwarts feels like a second home. But…" Frodo was in shock. Did his parents love him enough to send him back or was there more to this puzzle? "But I miss home, my friends and family, you two, my loving parents. Couldn't I stay here for a while?"

Drogo sighed with a heavy heart. He shook his head, confirming Frodo's fears. "You have to hold out for when this school year ends and the next six years. Afterwards, you can go do wherever you wish, just not before or after. You are not the first hobbit who wants to stay home, and yet you must go back."

"But it was awful there," said Frodo.

"You made friends, didn't you? Surely you can hold out a while longer," said Drogo.

"I'm not going back," said Frodo, serious.

"Son, that's not your decision," said Primula.

"Does it really have to be your decision or don't I have a say in the matter?" asked Frodo.

"Frodo, you're twelve years old; live life as a child while you still can. You'll start making your own decisions as you grow up and age. For now, enjoy this," said Drogo, being sincere.

"It may be your only opportunity to experience this. Wouldn't you rather live in the moment?" asked Primula, coaxing her son as Drogo was doing.

Frodo said nothing. There was too much silence and his mind was too occupied to think of anything else. So his parents did love him, yet they still wanted to send him back. Hogwarts had grown on him, it was true, but Frodo felt alone in an unfamiliar environment. The Shire was his home. Wasn't being in his country mattered the most to him? Surely it did. Nothing could separate him from home. And in the morning, he would see his eight year old friend, Fatty Bolger, and everything would go according to plan. Nothing would change. Nothing…

After supper, Frodo washed his hands and his mouth in the bathroom that was his. It felt so nice to be home. He had no plans on going anywhere. As he took his trunk into his bedroom, Primula found Drogo watching his son from his study doorway. Primula knew at once that something was bothering her husband; she had a feeling she already knew what that was, before Drogo said anything.

"He still hasn't grasped the idea of staying at Hogwarts," said Primula.

"He wouldn't let up on it. Hogwarts was a pleasant experience for us," said Drogo. "Of course, James Potter was an interesting fellow. We had good times with him."

"You had good times, Drogo," said Primula, muttering in his ear. "Most of mine were wondering when Mother would send the new socks she knitted for Lily."

"I wasn't the one who missed home a lot," said Drogo.

Primula was stunned. "You? You spent half of your first two years crying over when you would see your parents again, and home."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. It seems Frodo has caught on to my antics," said Drogo. "He will never truly leave the Shire."

Frodo, meanwhile, could hear his parents murmuring about him. Though he hardly caught what his parents were going on about, Frodo only let this bother him for a few seconds. Setting his trunk down in front of his dark wood bookcase, Frodo unlatched it and opened its lid. His heart stopped the second he spotted all his things and clothes. His blue school uniform reminded him too much of Hogwarts. Yet why did he feel like a piece of him was still at the school? A tear slipped down his cheek. Frodo brushed it away, before grabbing his night clothes.

Just as he was about to get dressed, Frodo heard a rasp on the wood of the door frame. He turned sharply around as, standing before him, was Aria. She wanted to talk to him. Great, or maybe he should have chosen not to invite her to his parents' house.

"What do you want?" asked Frodo, gloating.

"I came to see how you were doing," said Aria.

"Well, I'm fine," said Frodo.

"You know you can't lie," said Aria.

At that, Frodo snapped at her, "How do you know so much about me?"

"That's what I was told. I still haven't read your book trilogy yet," said Aria, sheepish.

Frodo did not want to hear this now. "Great. Now there's a book trilogy on me."

"What's gotten you?" asked Aria, surprised at him.

Frodo paused. This wasn't like him. Calming down, Frodo told her, "I'm sorry. It's been a rough time."

"Because you missed home," said Aria.

"That's part of it. I don't want to go back to Hogwarts," said Frodo.

"You heard your parents," said Aria.

"I know, but… can't they understand how I feel? Why do they want to kick me out of the house so much, out of the Shire? This is home to me, Aria. It's where I belong," said Frodo, hoping to gain support from her.

Aria paused. What could she say to this? "I wish I could help you."

"Can you? I would really appreciate it," said Frodo. Relief swept over him, making him feel calmer. "Thank you, Aria. You're a good friend." He returned to his unpacking. Great, now he wouldn't have to return to Hogwarts. Things were looking up for him.

Feeling sheepish, Aria darted out of the room. The moment she saw Frodo's parents, fear set in. It was the fear she was used to having being around parents, no matter who they were. Frodo was counting on her. She couldn't mess this up, right? Then again, Aria was known for causing disaster.

Stopping in front of Drogo, Aria shyly asked him, sending the message along, "Um… Frodo wants to stay in the Shire. He doesn't feel comfortable at Hogwarts."

Drogo glared at her. "Frodo sent you out here to tell us this. We're not changing our minds. Frodo is going back to Hogwarts after the holidays are over."

Primula kneeled before Aria and told her, "Dear, I know you wants what's best for Frodo, but you needn't be his messenger. This matter is between his father, myself and our son, not you. You don't have to do anything."

Aria was stunned. She didn't like not doing anything. It made her feel like a failure.

Primula told her, calmly, "Why don't you go to bed. We'll talk with Frodo in the morning, but you don't have to be a part of our conversation, all right?"

Aria nodded fiercely. She felt concerned that Frodo would be against her. As she searched for the guest room, Aria caught Frodo glaring at his parents and then at her. What had she done? All she did was deliver his message. Aria avoided his gaze as she neared the guest room, which was right next to Frodo's bedroom. She could feel Frodo's glare pestering her. Quickly, Aria closed the guest room door. She was terrified of him. Was there any way to convince Frodo that his parents were in the right? Maybe Hogwarts was good for him. She could hear Frodo slamming his bedroom door, followed by his mother barking at him not to slam doors in their house. However, Frodo did not come out, except to go to the bathroom.

It had been a long night and things were just getting better, or worse, thought Aria.