Disclaimers: See Chapter 1 for more info.

Frodo plopped down on the green grassy ground. Only now was it hitting him what happened to Cedric, given the information Harry was telling Dumbledore. He couldn't believe it. Voldemort was back. Cedric Diggory was dead. No, thought with remorsefulness, it's happened again. First, he lost his parents and now Cedric lay in a heap, not breathing and not blinking. Hadn't he been through enough already? He hadn't seen what happened to Harry and Cedric, but then… the graveyard. Were they there in the graveyard?

"Frodo!" Dumbledore kneeled beside him. "Frodo, what happened to you?"

Frodo looked at his wounds. They were pretty bad. But he could only get out exactly what was on his mind then and there. "Sauron's back."

"Come on, lad," Snorri said, pulling Frodo on his feet. "We're heading to my office at once."

Frodo hardly knew what to do. Should he follow Snorri back to his office? He didn't have much of a choice, what with the dwarf dragging him down the hedge tunnel and back to the hilly grounds. He looked back. Harry was also being dragged, by Mad-Eye Moody. Their footfalls were not far behind the hobbit teen and the dwarf teacher. Was it so incredulous that they had to walk together, when they could have easily chosen a different path? No. What was Frodo thinking? What was he thinking?

"Snorri!" Moody called. Snorri spun Frodo around. The dwarf sure was acting a little strange. And yet, Moody pressed on the dwarf teacher, "we meet in my office. Bring the trunk, like you asked."

Snorri nodded. "Indeed." He turned to Frodo. "Come on. This won't take long." Frodo heaved in a few breaths. His dwarf's teacher's grip was unusually strong tonight. And yet, by touching the bare spot where his hairs had been still ached, but then so did his side wounds. Were they ever to heal? He wondered that as he returned to the castle minutes later, following Snorri slowly up the stairs. "Come on, lad. We must be quick. Not slow. Mind where you step."

Frodo growled softly. He didn't show it to his dwarf instructor. Then again, something was just off. He managed to make it through the portrait hole and into the Authors' Chambers when Snorri showed up, lifting a trunk in the air through magic. Frodo recognized the levitation spell… and yet, he felt so sleepy. His head throbbed. He wanted to… rest. Find a soft spot to ease his mind, if only he could…

"Tired Frodo?" Snorri asked him, pulling up a chair and setting the trunk down at the same time. "Here. You rest. We wouldn't want to reveal my plan later, now would we?"

"Plan?" Frodo shook off the tiredness as best he could, but to hardly any avail. He just felt so sleepy. "What plan? What did you have in mind?"

"To think. You wouldn't have known it was me," Snorri huffed. "I'm not surprised. It only took you this long to uncover there was a second Triwizard cup." He pointed out. "It was me who allowed Hagrid to send the message about the dragons to you. It was me also who helped you figure out what spell to use during the second task. If you remember. Although, that stunt you pulled in the Black Lake was really a turning point. And then the maze. Oh, the maze. Did I mention that I was able to use a potion to copy the Triwizard Cup, capable of directing you to the place between the graveyard and the beach?" He extended his arms out. "Yours truly."

"No," Frodo didn't believe it. It couldn't be true. "You mean to tell me that you put my name in the Goblet of Fire. Why?"

"Why?" Snorri huffed. "Why indeed? Oh, you may have tied Harry for first position, if you weren't two seconds short of him. You came in second, the closest any hobbit has been given to come out in the Triwizard Tournament alive, without screwing up too much. No matter. Sauron is back. And I will be there to see it, to help him when I get rid of you."

"What?" Frodo looked up at him. How could this have happened? No. He was going to… to die. Not like this. Not like…

"Expelliarmus!" Mildred shouted, blasting her spell at Snorri's wand. Frodo could hardly keep awake. He just managed to stay awake long enough for Mildred to tether Snorri with cords. The hobbit teen turned to the chest. Mushu opened it, revealing one galaxy after the next from the lids of the many trunks. Frodo heaved himself up, stumbling over his own feet to find… Snorri was in the bottom of the trunk.

"No. That's Snorri!" Frodo was beside himself.

"Yes." Mushu said. "It appears we have found the real Snorri."

"And what of… him?" Frodo turned around, pointing an index finger at the dwarf held against the wall by Mildred. Only it was a dark blonde-haired dwarf with a slithering look on his face. He recognized him now. It was Râk Thrushbeard.

"I'm telling you Sauron is back because of me! You heard nothing!" Râk hissed at Mildred.

"Actually, Mushu and I have been in the castle since the third task began," Mildred said. "There's more than one Head of Authors and Authoresses, each with their own group of authors and authoresses. Didn't you know that?"

"I swear to you," Râk told her. "When Sauron gets here, he'll come after the boy. You wait and see."

"I'm afraid that you won't. The Dementors will want to see you," Mildred said.

"Frodo, are you all right?" Mushu asked the hobbit teen. Frodo knew that he wasn't all right. His wounds were just too great. Too much pain…

"No." Frodo shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not… all right." He slumped towards the floor, hardly feeling Mushu picking him up and carrying him towards the portrait hole.

"Take him to the hospital wing." Mildred told Mushu, "I'll deal with Râk."

"I will," Mushu said. The last Frodo recalled was hearing Mildred casting another spell on Râk, leaving the dwarf squirming in pain and belting out a few harsh words.

o-o-o

Frodo awoke as if from a trance. The dream he had was so dark, so intense. There was Voldemort battling against Harry. He may not have seen Voldemort this year, but given what he knew of the dark lord… well, it was nothing compared to the nightmare that came afterwards. There was Sauron dueling against him. Frodo knew he wouldn't win this fight. But that one curse. The green curse of all curses jetted at him. For a moment, he thought he wouldn't survive, but then… it was over. And here he was now, lying in a warm, comfortable bed, in the warm hospital wing.

But nothing felt so warm as of late. Cedric Diggory was dead and he did nothing to prevent it from happening. His death, his loss, would be mourned.

"Frodo," said a familiar, feminine voice. Frodo peered over. It was Aria, sitting in a chair next to him. "How are you feeling? All right?"

"I don't… know." Frodo said, sitting up. "Come here." He embraced her fast, holding onto her tightly, as if he didn't want to let her go. And she didn't let him go. He needed this right now. He needed… her. If only he could tell her…

"Well, you won't believe this!" Everhart said, bursting into the hospital wing, flaying a newspaper around. Frodo released Aria, but didn't let go of her hands. Only Everhart continued to speak up. "Of all the news and all the trouble. Well, I've had it. I've had enough of this."

"What?" Aria piped up. "What did you find?"

"Here!" Everhart passed a jar to her. Frodo looked over for a moment. His wounds were bandaged, but they weren't so bad now. And yet, the moment passed when he took a look at the jar. There was a green caterpillar inside. Frodo smiled.

"What is that? Who is that?" Frodo asked.

"That is Madam Fitspinchin," Everhart said. "Aria and Hermione were searching for her. I finally calmed her down, but she has some serious reporting to her on her scathing."

"She won't get away now," Aria said, glowing.

"So, what do we do with her?" Frodo asked, curious.

"Well, given the light of these events, she's changed her tune," Everhart said, taking the jar off Aria's hands. "Hmm." He changed the subject. "Just know that Dumbledore is looking into Snorri – eh. Râk's interference with the Triwizard Tournament. The Heads of Authors and Authoresses are already on the case. Râk is to be sent to Azkaban and taken to the Dementors. He won't be causing any more trouble."

"Sauron's back," Frodo said. He caught Aria's suspicious glance. "I know. It's incredulous, isn't it? Sauron's back. I saw him. We dueled and…"

Aria clasped Frodo's hand. "I believe you."

"But not everyone will," Everhart said. "I will look into it. Pass the information to Dumbledore. See what he can do. In the meantime, Frodo, get some rest. You've done more than enough today and for this year."

"But Cedric," Frodo asked. There was that lump in his throat. "What will happen to him?"

"There will be a funeral," Everhart said. "Dumbledore's planning it out. It's been a rough night for all of us. We'll discuss this in the morning." He gestured to the door. "Come on, Aria. Leave Frodo to rest."

"Goodnight," Aria said, standing up. But Frodo didn't let go of her hand, not for a moment longer. He released her, and yet he was reluctant to see her go. Maybe it was for the best… no. He mustn't think like that. But what could he do now? The events from this evening swam through his mind. His head rested on the pillow, but his thoughts were fuzzy. He felt so cold, so alone. Sauron was back, and there wasn't anything he could do to stop these events from happening.

And the things Sauron said about his fate, his journey. Were they true? Frodo just couldn't… understand. Why didn't Aria tell him, just once, the full story about his quest, his upcoming quest to destroy Sauron's ring? Surely, there must have been… a reason… for it… sleep overtook his thoughts, slipping him into another terrifying dream, which didn't seem to end even as he woke up the next morning.