Disclaimers: See Chapter 1 for more info.

This is a long chapter.

"Tell it again, Samwise!" Rosie spoke rather loudly, enough for Frodo to stop his conversation with Aria and Folco over at the Ravenclaw table. Frodo had to admit, after a week of telling the true events, Sam's tale… stretched out the details a bit.

"Yeah. Tell us, Sam!" Aria announced.

"Is this really necessary?" Frodo asked her. "Why weren't you in the Black Lake? Why was Sam—"

"Frodo, I could give you a simple answer. But I'm afraid, in this instance, there aren't any easy answers," Aria said.

"Don't be cryptic," Folco said, blurting over Frodo's words. "Come on. You're his authoress. Surely you know all the details."

"Folco, shush!" Frodo said, moving an index finger to his lips.

"Folco, that is not how authors work." Aria said. "Quite frankly, I don't fully understand it either. It's not allowed for authors to know all the details. It's just the rules of the trade."

"So you won't tell him anything. Even the minuscule details?" Folco asked.

"You know what. Never mind." Aria said, packing her bag. "Authors don't tell all the details, Folco. Do you really want to know if you'll have chicken for dinner? Or maybe you'd like to know what your latest catch will be out on the Black Lake? We don't give away all the details, Folco. How many times do I have to tell you this?"

"Maybe once more," Folco said. Frodo stifled a laugh as best he could. Folco pressed further, "Oh come on. Surely authors give every single detail out to friendly hobbits…"

"Goodbye!" Aria said, tensely. Frodo cracked a laugh or two for a second. Now he understood Aria's dilemma… a bit. Not much though.

"Oh wow." Frodo was astonished. But it wasn't over for Folco, once Aria left the Great Hall.

"Hey, what's her problem?" Folco asked him.

"I thought it was obvious," Frodo said.

"You'd make an excellent author one day, Frodo," Folco said.

"If the authors would let me," Frodo said.

"Sam, how did you go about doing all of that when you were under a bewitched sleep?" Hermione pressed him.

"Well, well…" Sam was at a loss for words. "Fine. I suppose we all were put under a bewitched sleep. But havin' Mr. Frodo save me down in the Black Lake was awesome. Mr. Frodo will get us through this challenge yet. There's one more task. We should consider, right now, supporting Mr. Frodo. It's the right thing to do."

Frodo shook his head, cracking a smile at the same time. Personally, he was glad Sam got as much attention as he. He couldn't expect any finer deed than having friends by his side, willing to fight alongside him. They'd do the same for him, wouldn't they? He guessed they would. He needed his friends. That's what counted, right? He could only wait and see what was coming next up.

The Third Task. How was he to get through it? Here's hoping that someone would come and give him tips. Well, he hoped it at least. Oh boy… what was he to do now?

o-o-o

February moved into March, rolling on with dry air. The wind blew so harshly that the owls had a hard time delivering post to students. The wind also made it worse for students to walk across the grounds, which made it feel like the wind was peeling the skin on their hands awful badly. At last, Frodo received a post from Everhart one evening, when Prim survived the windstorm.

"Thank you, Prim," Frodo said, stroking Prim's feathers briefly. The letter he discovered was short, brief and to the point.

Frodo,

Meet me in the Three Broomsticks Saturday morning. We need to talk. Invite your friends as well. I am sure they are eager to hear the latest news.

Everhart

Frodo sighed in relief. He was going to meet Everhart again. But with all the risks… wait. Everhart was known to take risks. The things he saw, navigating and all. Frodo assumed he must have had grand adventures. But at what cost? And just what was Everhart doing on his adventures? There were so many questions he wanted – needed – to see answered.

And yet, his mind still focused on Everhart's upcoming arrival that he found himself in Potion's class, in a near snoozing state of mind.

"Baggins!" Snape cried. Frodo jolted to a standing position. The result: laughter from his fellow students. Frodo grinned sheepishly, but that didn't stop Snape from his next command. "Come to the front desk. Now. Cauldron and ingredients as well."

"Yes Professor Snape," Frodo said, stuffing his books inside his bag and his ingredients into the cauldron. He grinned at the other students, knowing this was most expected timing.

"Enough of your cheek, Baggins. Work here," Snape said, pointing to the empty front desk. However, as Frodo restored his books onto the desk and the ingredients before him, tension rose around him. It was as if Snape was haunting him where he stood. And quite frankly, his whispers didn't ease Frodo's mind. "I know you must think – and find – yourself to be a hero. Were you in my office?"

"What? No," Frodo whispered back, truthfully.

"I'll believe that when I see the evidence. Boomslang skin. Gillyweed." Snape whispered further. "I know you speak with Potter whenever it pleases your every waking moment. If you come to my stores again, I will slip a drop of Veritaserum into your evening pumpkin juice." He paused. "Do you know what Veritaserum is?"

"My guess is it's a truth serum," Frodo whispered. The thought smacked him across the face. Truth serum. Snape. He wouldn't go that far on him, would he?

"That's exactly what it is," Snape said. "Now get back to work before I deduct points from Ravenclaw."

Frodo sighed in relief, but it was momentary and not in a very good way. Snape would really go that far. Place a truth serum into his tea or pumpkin juice. What exactly did he – he didn't go that far this year. Did he? He'd been good so far. Everything just seemed out of control just now. He was relieved when he could finally speak to Harry, Ron and Hermione about what just happened down in the dungeons.

"Do you think it's a coincidence?" Ron asked Frodo, Harry and Hermione.

"Well, what do we know about whose stealing in Snape's office?" Hermione said. "Frankly, there's more going on here."

"I know. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it?" Frodo asked his friends.

"Whatever the case, I've noticed Snorri's been hanging around Moody," Hermione said.

"Come on, Hermione. Snorri and Moody can talk to whoever they like," Ron said.

"Either way, we'll be going our separate ways when we get to Hogsmeade on Saturday," Harry said.

"I still have my Creative Writing class in the morning. But that's before Hogsmeade," Frodo said.

"Wow," Ron said.

"Wow what, Ron?" Frodo asked upfront.

"You and that class. Creative Writing class. Isn't that something the authors do?" Ron asked.

"Ron," Hermione said.

"It's true." Ron said. "Yes, we get equal amount of time to spend with the hobbits' authors and authoresses. I didn't think, didn't expect or imagine, they'd become authors themselves. The hobbits, I mean."

"I wonder how they came here." Harry said, confused. "Don't witches and wizards become authors, too? How else did we get our textbooks?" He paused. "Do we know why they came here? What they're trying to hide from us."

"Maybe they're not meant to give full details of their quests," Ron said. "Perhaps that's the reason they're given specific instructions to become the hobbits' authors and authoresses."

"It could be. I'll need to look it up in the library," Hermione said.

"Hey!" Harry spoke to Frodo. "Are you awake?"

"It's given me something to think about, too," Frodo said. "It does seem a pretty loose term, if you ask me."

"Yeah." Ron said. "Just what are these particular authors and authoresses up to?"

"I don't know." Harry turned to Frodo. "Frodo, do you have any leads?"

"They just seem so secretive. What are they up to?" Frodo asked his friends.

"Maybe you'll find out. I'll see if I can find anything on them," Hermione said, walking away.

"We'll see you later," Ron and Harry said.

"Right," Frodo said. "I'll see you later." He stood there for a few moments. Questions formed in his mind: what were the authors up to? Was it possible there was more than one author present? And what did Snape mean that someone had raided his office? There were so many questions to be answered, and yet when he met up with Aria… well, he would find out about the authors' business at Hogwarts. Wouldn't he?

"Aria," he asked her, "what's going on? I mean, with you and authors? Surely, you must know something."

"What do you mean?" Aria was confused.

"Just why are you so secretive? Surely you know what's about to happen," Frodo said.

"Frodo, I can't. It goes against the authors' rules," Aria said.

"Tell me," Frodo said, placing a hand over hers.

"Frodo, there are some things I can't tell you. Not now," Aria said.

"So you won't tell me anything," Frodo said. "I trust you. You know that."

"Frodo, it's like what happened with Folco. You don't need to know every detail that goes on in the future, do you?" Aria said.

"You can't keep keeping secrets. What are you up to? And the authors? Is it so important that my story be hidden from sight?" Frodo asked, serious. "How long does this go on?"

"I thought you were fine with this," Aria said.

"Aria!" Frodo lowered his voice. "Please tell me. Okay? I just need to know the truth."

"Frodo," Aria explained, "the reason I can't tell you everything about Harry is that we are in his timeline. That can't shake too much. We've already caused enough spurts in the timeline just for being here. As for the authors… well, we were chosen to come here and protect the Hobbits. It's our jobs to make sure your storylines also are in synch and not screwed up. We're not the first to come here. That's what I'm trying to say."

"I know." Frodo said. "I didn't know you were protecting Harry's timeline."

"We're in his timeline, as I said," Aria added.

"What about me?" Frodo pressed further.

"With you?" Aria paused. "Well, with you I don't know, Frodo. Your story is – how can I put this – moving along like a canvas being filled in with life, color and who knows what else. It's like your journey's taking shape and form, in ways we could not possibly understand. I myself don't know where the journey will lead us and, me as your author… well, we have only time to wait and see what comes next for us down the road." She smirked, giggling in the process. "I'm sorry. I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"Actually, you are making sense," Frodo said, grinning her way. "Thank you for tell me the truth."

"You're welcome," Aria said.

Frodo stood up. "You are still coming to Hogsmeade, aren't you?"

"I'll be there," Aria said, blushing.

"Good," Frodo said. This was good. He needed his friends, now more than ever. Or so he hoped would come to pass.

o-o-o

Saturday morning couldn't come any sooner. On that day, Frodo waited until he was out of Templeton's class before following Aria and their hobbit friends to Hogsmeade. So far, the authors and authoresses were on good terms with him and Aria. It was as if – well, there were hushed whispers, but then what else was new? Or had Aria already explained to him the situation. Fortunately, they were stopped by Mildred – wait. Was that a good thing?

"Aria," Mildred said. "This can't be easy for you to hear, but… please be careful what you tell Frodo. And…"

"Well—" Aria stopped herself mid-sentence. "Did I do something wrong? I mean, how can I give Frodo any details if I don't get the full story."

"Aria, there's a very fine reason for why we're not telling the hobbits the full story. Even if we could, it would be too big of a risk," Mildred said.

"So, you do know something," Frodo and Aria asked her.

"Look into Dumbledore's Pensieve, if you want a general idea on what's to come or what's in the past," Mildred said. "Good day to you all." She took off, heading back to the castle.

"What did she mean by that?" Aria asked Frodo.

"I doubt it's anything good," Merry said.

"What Pensieve?" Pippin asked. "What's a Pensieve?"

"Come on. Everhart's waiting for us in the Three Broomsticks," Frodo said, taking the lead.

"Is that a good thing?" Sam asked. "What about his winged horse?"

"The Pegasus horse?" Aria asked as well. "What was his name? Dapple-green, I recall."

"It's still an odd name for a winged horse," Pippin and Frodo said, finishing each other's sentences.

"It is indeed," Frodo said.

"Maybe they've changed the name to—"

"They Sam?" Frodo asked, chuckling.

"Everhart," Sam said. "It is possible that he… oh!" He stopped mid-sentence. For Frodo and his friends entered the Three Broomsticks much faster than he thought was possible.

"Frodo, there you are!" Everhart said, climbing down the stairs. "Come on. We'll talk more upstairs."

"Go on," Frodo said, letting his friends enter the second floor. Once he and his friends were inside Everhart's room, he waited until Everhart closed the door, before asking, "Everhart, what have you learned?"

"Look at this map first," Everhart said, pulling out a moving map. "I found it on my travels. It can track down whatever you need to find in the worlds, universes and realms. It's very genuine."

"Everhart, do you know who the blonde-haired dwarf is?" Frodo asked him.

"His name is Ambryfire… or so I think it's Ambryfire. It might be a different dwarf." Everhart explained. "Here. Let me tell you his story." He sat down and began the tale. "Ambryfire, growing up, was an unusual dwarf. Not only was he fond of gold, but also was keen on making mischief. He preferred the Dark Arts, and used it well in his time. But here. This article may help explain things better." He pulled out from under the map an article about Ambryfire the Dwarf, which read plainly in fine bold handwriting,

Ambryfire: The Dwarf in Question

Written by Madam Fitspinchin

As of late, not much is known of the dwarf Ambryfire. Having escape
the wizard prison of Azkaban on twelve occasions, Ambryfire's legacy
began on much more simpler terms.

The son of a dwarf merchant and his wife, Ambryfire was once a spit-
fire dwarf with the love of adventures. Where his journey takes him,
one could only say that he was doing so for the love of his country.
But that isn't half of the experiences he uncovered.

Rumor has also reached that with the Rise of Voldemort and Sauron,
later down the road, Ambryfire has found the Dark Arts his prized
destination spot. He ran away from all of that, and yet rumor could
still spread that he is an ally of the Dark Arts once more. We have
no specific claims as to his whereabouts. Just know that it is advised
to seek caution when encountering this dwarf.

He is a very mad dwarf. No reports yet on his activity, but we're sure
to learn more soon as the investigation continues to take shape.

"See?" Everhart told Frodo and his friends, once the news clipping was passed around. "This Ambryfire is dangerous. I'm not sure if it's the same dwarf from your dreams, Frodo, but I have no doubt that we will learn something more sooner than late."

"What about the map?" Aria asked Everhart.

"I'm still questioning the map. Sometimes it works. Other times it doesn't." Everhart explained. "It's purpose is to track down any enemies on sight or objects of great value. I'm still figuring out its kinks, but when I'm finished uncovering its secrets and uses, I will pass it onto you, Frodo. I trust you'll use this map wisely."

"Yes Everhart. I will," Frodo promised.

Everhart sighed. "I know you will, Frodo. You just need to remember your place and to do well in school."

"I am doing well in school," Frodo said.

"Yes, I'm sure of that," Everhart said, smiling.

"Is that all you needed us for?" Sam asked him.

"Yes. Yes, it is," Everhart said. He gestured to the door. "Go on now. All of you. Take care while you're here. And don't get into any trouble. I know your whereabouts now."

"So the map doesn't just track enemies," Frodo said.

Everhart grinned. "Go on, Frodo." Frodo took that as a yes, but he wasn't finished.

"Everhart, how long will you be staying at the Three Broomsticks?"

"About a week," Everhart answered him, "or more. But you know me. Adventure is where my heart is. Now go on. You don't want to miss your friends."

"Thank you, Everhart," Frodo said, making his way back downstairs.

In truth, it was a time well spent in Hogsmeade. Frodo was unhappy but glad he got to see Everhart again, even if it was only for a few minutes. And yet, those were the best moments he had at Hogsmeade. Only when he returned to the castle about an hour later, he missed spending more time with his father's friend. And yet, life moved on. He felt sure he would meet Everhart again, just not in the same place. Of course, he would see Everhart again. He knew that, didn't he?