Hello! How are you?

It has been a little while since I've posted on this story, but my AP Biology final is finally finished! (It's over... It's done...) And, now that it is done, I can add a little more time to building up the climax to this piece. I am excited to write it. It's gonna be tense!

Enjoy!

-E-

Not surprisingly, within the first couple days of Bilbo's arrival, Filius Flitwick approached him.

"I couldn't help but notice you down the table, Mr. Baggins. It's not every day I see another half-goblin."

Bilbo had to keep himself from spluttering. "Half-goblin? I think not, sir. I'm a hobbit."

"Yes, that's what Albus said, and yet I would say otherwise!"

It was a strange start, but that was how the two of them began to have meals together, elbow to elbow, discussing the differences between goblins and hobbits with a slight touch of heat. Filius was appalled and intrigued by Bilbo's account of goblins; it took several lunches for all his questions to be answered and for Bilbo to fully establish his identity.

Pretty soon, they acknowledged the obvious: it was refreshing to speak to someone without having to crank your neck up. It was nice to not feel so small all the time. Bilbo expressed his awkward times traveling with big folk for the last several months; more often than not, they would tease him about his short legs, trip over him if they were not paying attention, point out that he could pass off as an underaged dwarf, or pick him up and swing him around like a plaything - not all the time, more often than he liked. It was exhausting to put up with, they both understood.

It did not take long for Filius to invite him over for tea. And it did not take long for Bilbo to learn this: his office was the most comfortable room in all of Hogwarts.

The chairs were perfectly sized; he never needed to strain himself looking over the desk. The teacups, plates, spoons, and even the biscuits Filius provided were easy to handle, not ungraceful to hold or to use. It was a cozy, stress-relieving place. It was like this room was a piece of the Shire - a studious, intellectual piece of the Shire. Although, the best improvements from home were the stacks and stacks of books. These were the only big-sized items allowed, but Bilbo did not care; the book stacks impressed him more than the company's beard braids.

"What do you mean you only have a small library?" Filius gawked. "You seem to be the type of aristocrat to have several libraries, judging by the description of your Smial."

"My inheritance can only afford so much, I'm afraid. It's sad, but, when almost nobody in the Shire reads, they are rarer to come by than diamonds. And, even if I go shopping in Bree, they limit me because they're hard to reproduce."

"What a nightmare! How do you cope?"

"With gritted teeth, that's for sure!"

Of course, they had refreshing conversations about literature, something they both were starved for. Neither of them encountered someone like the other, someone with a special understanding between them. They would walk off with new perspectives, new questions, and a list of new books to read. Always refreshed and relaxed.

Teatime became religious. There were always discussions to throw around, questions to debate. A lot of these sessions helped Bilbo in navigating his research. If it were not for Filius, he would not have known what a muggle was, the difference between a charm and a hex, and what types of dragons lived around Hogwarts. He felt silly not knowing these basic things earlier, but Filius held no judgment.

Although, the most interesting, non-magical, non-research orientated thing they talked about was a type of pastry.

"We have nothing like this back home," Bilbo had said with big eyes, finishing up his third sweet. "Not the shape or style or even the flavor! What is it?"

"Why, cupcakes, of course. These ones are vanilla buttercream."

"Vanilla." It quickly became a romantic word. "This is my new favorite, and that's saying a lot!"

Now, whenever he visited the kitchens, he would ask Dobby if he happened to have any cupcakes handy. And, soon - what flattered Bilbo - there was a sudden overproduction of them. Vanilla, raspberry, lemon, and almond. They were all mouthwatering, yet vanilla permanently embedded itself into his heart and he became determined to find the plant's seeds. The Shire needed it as much as the dwarves needed rescue.

Although, Bilbo and Filius had not limited themselves to tea. The professor invited him to the choir rehearsal - a handful of talented students armed with in-tune frogs. Not a single cent off. The hobbit attended a number of rehearsals, sitting in the back of the Great Halls, admiring the unity of the choir, clapping only after Filius' cut-offs. He wondered if he clapped too often and too much - too obnoxiously or distractingly - but, when he had asked, Filius was flattered.

"It's always nice to have an audience," he explained with passion. "Most students would rather see the Quidditch practices, which I do not blame them for. I do enjoy the sport too. But, it's nice to be remembered."

Soon, emerging from their strengthening friendship came deeper book insights. A topic with some weight. They abandoned the nice tales and moved on to the deep, disgruntling, devastating reads. Books for the deep-thinker. They shared impressions and thoughts, connecting all of the back to philosophy and magic. It made tea into a vulnerable period, but in a connected way, a way they had not felt in a long time. It was a time in their day where monologues turned into duets.

But, even reaching that level of connection, it had shocked and delighted Bilbo when Filius had mentioned one time, "To tell the truth, I always believed Severus Snape to be a witty, but painfully awkward man. He almost never approaches strangers unless he has to, and even then it is horrific to spectate!"

"That was the exact same impression I got!"

It became another thing they could relate to: it was proper to be polite, but you can only put up with people for so long. They shared humorous moments they had witnessed, like the eyebrow-raising character of a past teacher - Professor Lockheart, if Bilbo remembered correctly. Though, most of their talk was not harsh; Filius liked to remember others' past deeds and highlight their character. Particularly, he had mentioned about a half-giant, Rubis Hagrid, and described his enormous build, height, and heart.

"Sounds to me like he's a friendly giant!"

All of this - their friendship - came just a little after Bilbo appeared in this world. Perhaps it was a resilient bond or perhaps their friendship was a spring shower - quickly to come, quickly to leave. But, Bilbo liked to think it was fast because they were, "two peas in a pod." The thought was touching, but he had to look past the cliche to enjoy it.

"How about otherworldly doppelgangers, instead?" Bilbo asked one day. "I saw that term in the scroll you lent."

"... I like that, but, if you'll humor me, I was thinking of two halves of the same man."

Bilbo spat his tea out laughing.

-E-

On Tuesday, lunch in Filius' office was gray. The tea went cold before either of them had the notion to sip it. They had their heads down, fingers fiddling with spoons or paper scraps, and paid no attention to the books each had brought for recommendations. It was like they both came back from a funeral, an exhausting and washed out one.

"Did you hear about the autobiography about a witch with DID? She can use magic in one personality and not another?"

"Uh, no, I haven't. I'll look that up…."

Bilbo decided this was no way to have lunch. The weight was too much to ignore. He sighed a brick load before asking, "Filius, what's wrong? You seem like you are trapped in a different world."

The professor half-heartedly shrugged, his tea sloshing over its rim. "Oh, I don't know. It's nothing too serious, really, just life and all its cards. Nothing extreme, but…." He drank deeply, catching the prying, good-meaning look in Bilbo's eyes. "Well, only 'cause you asked, you nosey thing. I guess it was more of an attack of one's pride than anything else. She came in just last class and took a chunk out of my confidence, really."

"Filius, who?"

"The Hogwarts High Inquisitor, apparently."

"A what?"

"Good question."

They both sampled the vanilla pudding, but it had lost its savor, its unique tang they had enjoyed the previous week.

"Well," Bilbo continued, "what did she do, might I ask?"

"Just what a high inquisitor would do. Evaluate and grade teachers." He set down his spoon. "I had a simple class with the first years - probably the most exciting class I have - and she came in, told me that she will be in the back and spectate, and I thought nothing of it. We would have evaluations like this every so often. But, they usually go well and -" Filius loosened his face and exposed his turmoil "- and she just kept butting in! Please excuse my tone, but she really tried my patience for a while!"

It surprised him how the professor's energy had only been skin-deep away from leaking.

"Sounds terrible!"

"T'was! She kept interrupting my lesson and pointed out all the details I missed - which I haven't! - and what I should instruct my class with next - which I have already thought out, thanks - and all in front of that class and the next!" He huffed. "Her little, passive-aggressive cough will be in my mind for the next twelve days, I'm sure!"

"Oh, that's the worst, my friend." Back in the Shire, when Lobelia was still a Bracegirdle, she had liked to pull that trick on friends and neighbors when they were not abiding her advice. Bilbo had suffered it countless times, especially when he had been forced to attend family reunions with her. A little cough here or a sly remark there. "I understand that fully, my friend."

"Oh!" Filius leaned back and rubbed his face. "Reminds me perfectly of a teacher I use to have when I was a student… always ready to take apart some poor soul with a correction or so… I guess there's always one in each generation."

"No doubt. I may not have met the inquisitor yet, but I've heard she is a bit nasty like that." Bilbo could sense his friend bit back a flood of comments. "Well, I hope she gets out of your hair sometime soon. Too much of that can drive anyone mad."

"I'm almost jealous that you get to leave here! I know I am being dramatic saying this, but I'd love to take a vacation for the rest of the year if she's here."

Bilbo's empathetic smile dropped. "Yes, well…."

"I wouldn't mind visiting your world, in fact. If that can be arranged, and if I can come back from there, I'd love to go."

"If I can find a way back."

"Hm?"

"Professor Dumbledore and I had a chat the other night ago - yes, last Saturday, remember? You were there for a bit - and I was hoping that we were onto something concerning my situation. But… not quite. Neither of us had any new ideas or anything worth trying. He's been busy, as I understand, and my situation is not improving a bit. It's becoming dire."

"Oh, Bilbo, don't say that."

"But, it's true!" He chewed the inside of his cheek. "I've dug as much as I could about magic and worlds and dragons and such, but nothing! What if I'm doing it all wrong? What if I can't go back?"

Filius considered this, his eyes resting thoughtfully on the desk. "Heavy questions, my friend. But, by wrong, I think you mean… searching in the wrong book?" He paused. "Yes, I think that's your problem."

"What do you mean? I've been privileged enough to go through Hogwarts' library for anything-"

He snapped his fingers and grinned. "Yes, but you have barely searched in mine! We've only scratched the tip of the iceberg."

"Iceberg?"

Filius jumped from his chair - a renewed vigor in his step - and began to search his bookshelves. Bilbo spluttered as he pulled out books with foreign titles. "You mean there are more volumes? I thought they were just extra copies!"

"The students' library is perfect for textbook-reading, but I like to think of mine as a knowledgeable archive for the serious thinker.

"You can borrow any book in this room, my friend! It's the best I can offer at this - Oh, maybe not the ones around my desk. I've been needing to read them myself - but anything else that you think you'll need!"

Bilbo felt silly. "Guess I was being a bit of a dramatic there! But, it makes me wonder how many books have actually been written here - actually, how many people even live in this world?" The population of this world began to intimidate him, but he pushed it off for now.

With a step stool, he began to inspect the insides of the oak bookshelves, which stood stoically like guards in a king's court. On each shelf, books squeezed themselves together, huddled together like pigeons. He grew jealous that Filius had this problem, so much so that not all of his books could live on a shelf. Perhaps he could buy some books from him to take back home.

His eyes skimmed the spines.

Herald and the Yeti's Wedding.

Homing in on Magical Properties.

How to Properly Store Potions.

Some of the books were veiled in an inch of dust as if the covers were made of rabbit pelts. They had fingerprints on them, so Filius must read them occasionally, but never remembering to dust them. He had to wipe it off, sneeze, and continue.

Locomotives in the Muggle World.

Lollipops and Lizards: Book Five.

Lunatics Hidden in Plain Sight.

After some time, once Bilbo collected a volume about taming dragons - So, You Find Yourself In Trouble - he noticed the books Filius collected for him; there were at least six, two-inch thick books, all in faded colors with abused spines. The pile dwarfed his own by a large margin.

Suddenly, Bilbo's eye caught something: The Secret Ingredient is Magic. This book combines the flavor of homemade cooking and the magic of the individual, the ultimate resource for every wizard's perfect dinner party.

"Excuse me?" Bilbo asked. "Do you think I could borrow this for a while? This may be important."

"Didn't you say hobbits were muggles?"

"... It doesn't hurt to try."

"True that." Filius jumped down and plopped onto a stack of books. It was so tall that Bilbo almost made eye level with him. "Now, how about you look at these? I'm sure a few of these you haven't touched yet… although, there is still a volume or two that I'd recommend, but I can't find it at the moment… but, how are these for now?"

"Well, I hate to say it," Bilbo said after he glanced at the covers, "but I've already peeked at these - well, I still need to read Hogwarts, A History, but I don't think that will help much."

"Oh, you never know! Besides, it might explain why you came here of all places in the first place."

"Alright," he sighed, reluctantly accepting the book into his stack. "I guess I'm just worn from reading so. It's a dream come true to have access to such remarkable libraries - You know the state of my poor collection - but I guess what I really need is a break from all that."
"Then, take a break."

"But… then I won't be making any progress."

"Then read."

"But, then I can't concentrate as well-"

"Oh, you worrying wart! Too much running will wear you thin!"

Even though he knew the truth in Filius' words, he could not calm the smolder of stress building up in his chest, the slow burn sizzling his insides like acid. He could not push off the dwarves - he could not deny how much he missed them - or the fact that Gandalf was nowhere to be found, away and unable to help. What was he supposed to achieve here? What was he missing?
"If I were you," Filius said and crossed his arms, "I would relax with a nice bath - It does me well on hard days - and take a walk, as in a walk from the mind. I can see an entire kilo away that your only adding to your stress. My students do this more often than I'd like."

Bilbo frowned to himself. "True, I've always been a worrier. But..."

"Perhaps you need a break. And, hey, what if you don't need to read a book to find a way back? What if you just appear back like how you did here?"

"True..."

It bothered him how he could not make up his mind. Did he need new books or did he need a break? Either would fry his mind. Where was Gandalf when he needed him?

"I'm dreadfully sorry to bother you with all of this. I am worrying too much, but it's killing me from the inside out."

"Oh, Bilbo, it's okay." Filius hopped off the book stack and faced him. "I'd be doing the exact same thing If I were in your shoes - er, your feet."

They laughed a little; Bilbo had the wit to say, "Another reason why I think Snape doesn't care for me!"

"Perhaps! But, seriously," Filius said with a smile," I believe you need a walk from your head, maybe a relaxing bath, and something that helps you unwind. Stress may just be your downfall, my friend."

"True, but easier said than done. And yet," he began, "I do think the thing to really, truly help would be someone who knows my problem."

"Ah, perhaps you need to find them on a walk? Think of it that way and maybe you can relax, yes?"

"True… maybe I could find-"

A thought: where was Malfoy?

Bilbo's face relaxed. "Oh, I remember now."

The boy had claimed to know how and why he was here, a bright wizard with magical knowledge that few possess. And, he argued, he did seem like he knew what he was talking about, seemed to be able to assist him. Bilbo had failed to mention him to Dumbledore, forgetting to ask if the boy could help him, but he assured himself it was fine. It was not like he could not ask for help from others at Hogwarts. He would be a hypocrite for refusing student interaction after his article interview the other day.

"Actually, I think a bath and a walk would help greatly. I'll try that." Bilbo tried to scrap his brain for any hint where the boy might be. "Yes, I think I'll try that."

"Alright, then," Filius said. "I'm glad to persuade you into something useful, even though it was a bit of a hustle, you worry wart!"

"Oh, what a burden I am. Must drive you all mad that I'm stuck here."

"The reason we want to send you home as quickly as possible."

They laughed, their smiles perking brightly after their long day of glooming. Now, the air settled back into the atmosphere from last week: relaxed and secure. But, now, with the thought of the boy helping him, Bilbo's mind buzzed with plans and scenarios. It excited him; the boy could point him in the right direction. No more wandering through textbooks or empty theorizing. Now, hope graced his mind and set him at peace, but where was the boy?

Filius fished out his pocket watch and clicked it open. "My cue." He smiled at the hobbit. "Hope this helps you, my friend, because I must be off. And while I teach my next class, go do what you think is best. You'll get back home."

"Thank you, Filius. It means a lot to me that you help me and put up with me - and for the books!" He patted the covers in his arms, which was almost as heavy as a bundle of sticks. "As I've said, it's a dream come true. It'll be one of the most wonderful things that I'll miss when-"

"Oh!" the professor squeaked, his eyes bulging out of his sockets. "Wait!"

Within seconds, he bounced to the door, peered out of it, seeing the few students filling the desks and one lone figure, rushed back to the foot of a bookshelf, and rummaged through the stacks - the ones he previously used to reached the shelves. Books sprawled away. It happened so fast that Bilbo would have thought the professor was in a sudden, high-stress situation, as if the high inquisitor came back for another session.

"Wait-wait-wait!"

"Filius? What are-"

"Wait-wait-sorry, pardon me," he came back with a light, wheezy voice. "I just remembered where I left that book I was talking about."

"Which one?"

"This one," he pointed to the book in his arms, but Bilbo gawked; the book was enormous. It seemed larger than a soup pot, larger than Dwalin's ax head, and heavier than a flat of bricks.

"Uh, well, I think I am good for now, thanks. I need to pace myself and not take all of your books all at once, even though I might want to. Besides -" he glanced at the door and saw the classroom fill with black robes "- you have a class to-"

"Bilbo," Filius frowned. "This may be the most important book concerning your situation! Trust me, you need this!"

"But I-"

"No time to explain!" He almost dropped the book when he tried to give it to him. "I do think that inquisitor is already out there judging me! I have to leave!"

When Filius left, Bilbo almost collabsed at the sudden weight of the book. It made his forgotten pile, now on the floor, seem like runts. He knew better than to race after Flitwick and sincerely give it back, but he was tempted to put it back on the floor with the way his knees wobbled. But, it was the glossy cover that grabbed his eyes: Split from the Same Spell: Magic in Regards to the Quantum Field.

Curious, he set the book on the desk and skimmed a paragraph.

Regardless of Knotts' conclusion, it is predicted by many wizards in the quantum field that magic may use this phenomenon like a left hand - its right being normal matter, as stated by Medlar in 'The Theory of Quantum Magic,' 1963. This makes premature studies strengthen to an ultimate theory: magic is the key to quantum manipulation, in controlling universal events, and understanding the laws of different worlds. Although a relatively new field, this theory may open another door of magical understanding. As suggested in Regel's letter (see page 467,) "... understanding this phenomenon would raise our ability exponentially… like jumping up to the steepest curve of the graph in magical evolution. It can allow access to different parts of the universe to new ones entirely… but only if we unravel the mystery first."

The illustrations confused and intrigued him. A ball dipped into a gridded field while a wand broke the field. And, although he could not make sense of it, not even in the footnotes, he took the book, left the room through its side door, and began to prepare himself for another long night.

-E-

The book was a hardcover with the smell of crisp paper. It held a lot of quality between the the first and last pages - the pictures were flawless and the word choice was appropriate - but the most unique detail was the colors of the ink; each sentence was in a different color, like brightly colored strings, to help the reader follow along. At first, Bilbo thought it was the author's signature, but it was mercy instead. The colored lines were the only reason his eyes could keep their place.

He stared at the pages for a chunk of time into the night. The only reason he knew it was late, other than the weights in his eyes and the stiffness of his face, was that no one went by in the hallway. Usually, big folk blundered about and pulled him out of his concentration, but now it seemed that he was the only one conscious in the whole castle. Everything was asleep. Everything was still. Motionless like the fire over the candle wax.

"This is hopeless," he moaned. "Why did I take this blasted thing anyway? Elvish is easier than this."

Without Filius defining terms or ideas for him, he had no clue what the text was trying to convey. Only half of the words made sense. The other half - as well as the pictures, historical figures, and experiments - was complete gibberish. There were a few scientists in Middle-earth, but this field could outmatch every wizard, oracle, or wise elf. With it being unheard of, it was impossible to wrap his mind around it; was he the first being to encounter this science?

Needing air for his brain to soak in the information, he left the room in a drunken walk.

The stone walls in the corridors held murals of shadows. It veiled most of the sleeping artworks and a half of the statues. Only the torches around every corner was enough for him to find his way back; he had spent a little time in the kitchens, visiting with the nocturnal house-elves, snacking on leftover cupcakes from last week - stale buttercream frosting and crumbly cake - and now his mind was ready for bed. The quantum book had beaten and rung him dry, and now he needed time to heal, to prepare himself for tomorrow's work, and to find Malfoy.

At this point, unless the headmaster found a solution, it seemed all hope lied with Gandalf or Malfoy. Whichever figure appeared first, Bilbo did not care.

While he walked, he noticed Filch was not lurking around. The last time Bilbo had a late night walk, the man accused him of snooping and nearly dragged him to the headmaster's office. He did not like the way the man's boney, skeleton hand gripped his shoulder, but, luckily, Dumbledore defended him, explaining politely that guests were not ruled by the students' curfew. Although, he mentioned after Filch stormed away, it would be wiser to have another teacher with him or to stay within the main corridor only. Bilbo had acknowledged this, and yet the directions seemed more like a nanny's request.

Having to follow the headmaster's guidelines, Bilbo tried to find his room quickly. It was improper not to listen to his host. Besides, he could not find the boy this late into the night; he would look tomorrow for him during lunch or after school hours.

He was about to turn the corner, but a glowing wand tip blinded him; he bounced against a large figure and fell.

"Oh, pardon me!" He winced. "I guess I was walking too fast to-"

The figure cleared her throat tightly, wiping pale frost off of her suit - a beautiful, rich pink suit with small embroideries on the sleave.

Bilbo began to panic. "Oh, I am so sorry!" He jumped from the ground. "I didn't realize I had any frosting on me, I - Oh, and on your lovely suit too - I truly am sorry, dear lady - Oh, it's not stained, is it? I always hate it when a fine attire gets soiled-"

She cleared her throat again, lowered her wand, and fixed him with a piercing glare. "Who and what are you?"

He almost choked when he saw her face. Troll-like neck rolls, a gross amount of make-up, and a unique, eye-butchering hairstyle. At first, the light protected him from the sight, but now he wished for ignorance. To make matters worse, even if she was shorter than most big folk, shorter than Thorin as well, she was frightening. She could glare down an orc if she had the chance.

"Um," he started, putting on a polite mask to cover up his amazement, "I am a guest of Dumbledore's… Bilbo Baggins?" She would not take her drilling eyes off of him. "Are-are you the high inquisitor? I, uh, saw your profile on one of the - what was it? - educational decrees."

She said nothing.

"Number twenty-three, was it?"

Before he could dare himself to see if the glare lessened, she turned away and stormed off in a huff, her pink heels violent enough to chip stone. This left him to worry if his mask had fallen off.

-E-

Before I leave you all off on this chapter, I have to mention somethings. The part where Bilbo talks about how the Shire has no vanilla plants is true; it is canon in Tolkien's world. The Shire was based on his childhood setting, South African/English countryside. He wanted Middle-earth to have old world crops and dishes, which excluded vanilla beans, cocoa beans, and some other beans, except coffee beans. He did have certain exceptions though. And, even though cupcakes were made around the nineteenth century, they were not a big thing for him, so they were somewhat left out too. This makes this pastry extra special to Bilbo. So yeah! Mini crash course!

Another thing, I like to think Harry Potter wizards do use science because it connects back to their magic. It would make sense for magical scientists to study the properties of magic and such, using it to create new spells or potions or something. I would be one of those wizards if I could!

Even though I am not 100% correct about the Harry Potter book's timeline, I am a good 95% in order. I will probably speed up some events for the sake of the story's motion.

Have a golly good day!