Chapter 4: "Broomstick Ride"

"Wake up sleepyheads. You don't want to miss Saturday breakfast."

Frodo stirred slightly. He was hearing silvery Elven-song in his dream. He opened his eyes; and still covered in the cobwebs of sleep, Frodo thought the boy standing over his bed was a young son of Elrond.

"Wake up," said Harry again.

The Great Hall of Hogwarts has been previously described, so I will not do so here. Suffice it to say that Frodo was most impressed with the magical ceiling, which was that morning a clear, deep blue with puffy white clouds. Sam loved the ever-refilling plates. "This is what every Hobbit would want," said Sam, as he started on his third helping of sausages.

Now, you might have thought that the arrival of two ancient creatures of a forgotten race, a month after the start of term would have caused a stir amongst the Hogwarts students. But since the end of the previous term there had been great and serious upheavals at Hogwarts, as a result of the return of Lord Voldemort.

Actually, the school most affected was Durmstrang. Its headmaster and half its faculty had disappeared, presumably either fleeing from or going to Lord Voldemort. Hogwarts had agreed to accept the displaced Durmstrang students and those of its faculty that Dumbledore felt were trustworthy. The students were mostly absorbed into Slytherin House; fewer than half of the Slytherins had returned to Hogwarts. Ron had said, "The only good thing about Voldemort's return is that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle are gone, and good riddance!"

The new Durmstrang professors were unfamiliar and intimidating, particularly the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Dr. Schlechtes Dunkelheitzen. Professor Snape had left at the end of term last year, on an errand of Dumbledore's, and had not been expected to return. His appearance that fall had been a surprise (and, truth to tell, something of a disappointment!) to many. Rumors that Professor Lupin would return has so far proven false.

The official stance of the Ministry of Magic was still that there was "no proof" that Voldemort had returned. This obstinacy had the effect of fanning fear rather than quelling it. The Wizarding world had spent the summer and early fall in agonizing suspense, waiting for Voldemort's next move.

So the appearance of two small, hungry, unshod, hairy-footed, pointy-eared Hobbits generated no great interest in the Hogwarts students. They were assumed to be odd Durmstrang students, or perhaps just refugees from who knows where. As long as they weren't in league with You-Know-Who, they were welcome at Hogwarts. Some, especially the younger girls, noticed the luminous blue eyes of one of the visitors. But for the most part, the Hobbits simply blended in.

I have Quiddich practice this morning," Harry said, rising from the table. "I was going to head over to the field to practice some new flying techniques. Want to watch?"

"Quiddich?" asked Frodo.

"It's a game, played on broomsticks. There's two goalposts, and two bludgers, and..."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Hobbits walked out to playing field. It was a fine, crisp, early autumn day, perfect for the pre-season practice game between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor houses.

Harry hopped on his broomstick and flew off into the air. Frodo gasped. He fondly remembered his Uncle Bilbo's stories about being carried by eagles. Frodo had always wanted to fly.

After performing a few very demanding, but deceptively simple aerial acrobatics, Harry alighted again in front of his friends. Frodo jumped up. "Can I--I mean..."

"You want to fly? Sure--it's easy." Harry put his broomstick down beside Frodo. "Just put your hand out and say 'up.'"

"Up," said Frodo. Nothing happened. "Up. Up. Up!" The broomstick didn't move.

Hermione looked up uncomfortably. "Um, Harry, I don't think Hobbits are..."

"Magical," said Frodo sadly. He shook his head and turned to sit down again.

"Wait," said Harry. "Maybe I can give you a ride." Frodo turned back, delighted. "Just sit here behind me on the broomstick--and hang on tight!" The broomstick wobbled a bit, and then rose swiftly into the air. Frodo was too excited to notice the worried look on Sam's face.

Harry flew smoothly about the field at first. Frodo was terrified but exhilarated. He found he couldn't balance well enough just clutching the broomstick, so he had to hang on to Harry.

"Not so tight, Frodo. I can't breathe!" Harry complained. Frodo reluctantly relaxed his grip.

Something came over Harry then. Whether it was to give the Hobbit a little scare, impress his friends, or just have some fun, Harry didn't know. Perhaps it was the effect of the locket, pressed between Frodo's chest and Harry's back. But, to his lasting regret, Harry started performing some more complicated maneuvers. He didn't notice, or ignored, Frodo's tightening grip and his gasps of terror. Harry then executed his trademark Quiddich move: a steep dive, followed by a sharp pull-out inches from the ground.

Frodo's nerve must have failed him then; or perhaps Hobbits simply cannot withstand large G-forces. As Harry pulled out of the dive, he felt Frodo's grip relax and then fall away. Frodo fell to the ground, senseless.

Sam was at his side in an instant. Cradling Frodo's head in his arms, Sam looked up at Harry, now running towards them. "What have you done?" asked Sam, with an anguished cry.

"I'll go get Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said, dashing off to the hospital wing.

Ron stood and looked at Harry, but said nothing. If Harry could have descended into the depths of the earth, he would have done so immediately.

"'Stick close to Harry,'" a familiar, nasty voice said. Professor Snape had walked up behind them. "Harry will protect the Hobbits, Harry will keep them safe," he sneered. "And a fine job of protecting them too, no less than I would have expected from the great Harry Potter." He spat out the name.

Frodo opened his eyes. "What happened? I was falling, and--oh, my arm," Frodo cringed.

"Looks broken," Snape said casually. "By the way, you dropped something."

Frodo stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Then with a start, Frodo fumbled about his neck and realized the locket was gone. Snape dangled it over Frodo's nose, then pulled it away, just out of reach.

"How careless you are with something so precious." Snape's eyes glittered as he looked at the locket. "I don't understand why Dumbledore would entrust something like this to the care of an irresponsible child and a pair of half-wit Hobbits."

In an instant Snape was facing two Hobbits with drawn swords pointed at him. "Thief! Give it back!" Frodo shouted, swaying a bit as he brandished his Elven-sword, Sting. Snape raised his wand, but Harry was too quick for him.

"Expelliarmus!" Snape's wand flew into Harry's outstretched hand. Frodo dropped Sting and snatched the locket. He put it over his head, and then collapsed to the ground in pain.

Snape stalked over to Harry. "My wand!" Harry gave it back to him. Snape glared at him for a long, unbearable minute, and then said quietly, "For endangering the life of a Hogwarts visitor, one hundred points from Gryffindor. For interfering with a professor, fifty points. And detention."

Snape turned to go. He added, over his shoulder, "What you really deserve, Harry Potter, is expulsion."

For once, Harry had to agree with Snape. He had nearly killed his passenger. He had almost lost the Ring. He did deserve expulsion, or worse. He dimly heard Madame Pomfrey say, "Just a simple break, Frodo, dear. We'll have you all healed up in no time. You'll just have to stay overnight in the hospital wing." Ron and Hermione were helping with the stretcher. Harry began to walk over, but Sam's dark looks stopped him.

Over the loudspeaker, Harry heard, "And Seeker for Gryffindor House, Harry Potter!" The small crowd on the other side of the field began cheering. Harry shook his head and got on his broomstick.

After the game, Harry headed over to the hospital wing. "How could I have been so careless, so stupid," he wondered. "I heard him cry out. Why didn't I put him down?" Harry found Frodo awake, in bed, talking to Professor Dumbledore. He looked up and said, "Ah, Harry. How did the game go? I hear you took Frodo on a bit of a wild ride this morning."

Harry hung his head. "I'm so dreadfully sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Hmm. Perhaps something did indeed come over you," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I wonder…"

"Do not trouble yourself too much, Harry," said Frodo. "Most of it was great fun, actually. I pretended I was riding on the back of an eagle." Frodo turned to Dumbledore. "You've done that, Gandalf, and so has Uncle Bilbo." Frodo sighed. "I suppose Harry's broomstick is the closest I'll ever come to eagle-flying, don't you think?" Dumbledore smiled indulgently at Frodo, but did not reply.

"How's your arm?" Harry asked.

"The break is healed. Madame Pomfrey's skills rival those of the Elves—the Elves of old, I mean. She says she will release me from the house of healing tomorrow, but I am of a mind to leave well before then. Hullo, Sam, have you got it?"

Sam had just walked in, bearing a small pouch and a conspiratorial grin. "Yes, I've got it here. Good, by the smell of it. Very obliging, these House-Elves." Sam then pulled out two very long-stemmed pipes, and handed one to Frodo. Dumbledore laughed; and then, to Harry's surprise, pulled from his robes a pipe of his own.

"It's been a long time," said Dumbledore. "I had given it up. But why not, amongst old friends."

Harry left the hospital wing in much better spirits than when he entered. He left the trio of friends to blow smoke rings and talk of old times. Presently he heard the sound of Madame Pomfrey's high-pitched scolding. Harry whistled a tune and headed towards Gryffindor.