By the Book Chapter 1 The Muggle Perspective, a Harry Potter + Lord of the Rings Crossover fanfic

By the Book

Summary: Hermione is in need of a book, and not just any book, but something that will quench her thirsty mind that so desperately needs distraction. The Muggle Perspective section seemed queer enough, but the book she finds there is even more strange. It transports her to a different world, a world which she must make sure goes by the book.

A/N: Not sure where this story will go, but we shall find out in time, won't we?
Genres: crossover, adventure, romance
Warnings: sexually graphic scenes, language, and brutality, rated M for a reason
Chapter: 1 of many

oOo

It was deep in the recesses of the vast library, somewhere between the restricted section and the wizarding romance novels of which the regular readers were the female professors of the lonelier type, a petite witch with her head buried between the pages of a book could be found.

She was nearing the last few pages of this particular novella, and was growing increasingly disappointed. The book was not ending in the manner she would have liked it to, and she was, in a manner of speaking, a little embarrassed for the writer and her lack of imagination.

It seemed to be a trend, she had noticed years ago, that the heroine almost always got to live happily after she had overcome whatever odds she had to face with her true love, and settled down to pop out as many kids as she could until she couldn't bear them anymore.

"Rubbish." She whispered, and as she barely finished the last words, tossed the book back onto the table she was sitting at.

She was positively aching for a good read.

Ever since Hermione had returned to Hogwarts for her seventh year she had discovered a little nook inside her that could not be satisfied, not matter how much she read, or even what genre the books that she had delved into were.

For years it had been so easy for Hermione. If she had even felt the slightest bit depressed all she had needed to do was crack open the godforsaken almanac and she would have felt loads better, but as she looked at the piles of books from today that she had gone through thrown almost carelessly onto the table, she realized that today would not be one of those days.

She sighed and rose from her chair. Perhaps she should try a different section? She didn't usually read romance novels, but even after a few of those she grew exasperated, finding that even those did nothing to alter the mood she was in.

She raised her hands to her hair, pulling out the hair-tie that held back her bushy strands in a ponytail, and re-did it into a messy bun high upon her head. As she raised her arms up, her newly acquired gift she received from Bellatrix Lestrange, a long cut from the inside of her wrist to the inside of her elbow caught her eye.

Wincing as the mental memory of what had happened that night in Malfoy manor appeared before her eyes once more she turned from the romance novels in search if something fresh to read, shaking the visions of a thin knife dragging along her soft flesh from her mind.

The library had been empty the past few days. With the winter break creeping upon the students of Hogwarts most could be found outside mucking around in the snow. She could hear muffled voices of the many first years beyond the windows on the grounds, most likely having snowball fights in the setting sun, unlike most of the older students saying their goodbyes to their friends for the holidays.

Hermione hadn't had many friends left to say goodbye to. Many of them had perished in the war, but those that she did have had left earlier in the day after their last exams. But she didn't feel bad that she wasn't outside goofing off with the rest of them. Since the second Wizarding War that had made her a war hero, she hadn't had much time to herself where she could just be alone.

She used to have time to herself all of the time, spare the times that she had been interrogated by all sorts of people for being friends with Harry or even going to the Yule Ball with Viktor. But ever since she had become a goddamned war hero, she couldn't go anywhere without someone being interested in what she was doing every moment of the day.

So she found extra enjoyment in being by herself, so much so that she decided to stay at Hogwarts for the holiday instead of going home to spend Christmas with the Weasleys or her parents. The atmosphere at the Burrow had changed since the deaths of everyone so dear to them, and surprisingly Hermione found it a little too stuffy for her liking.

She came back to school for her seventh year, not for her education like everyone had thought, but for the solace she thought she would be able to find there. Her new social status had practically guaranteed her the position of Minister of Magic if she had really wanted it but she just needed a bit of peace for while.

Which is why she decided to spend her time in the library.

The books she left stacked on the table began to put themselves back on their shelves as she walked away to go search for a book in a different section.

Even though she had practically spent her whole Hogwarts career in the library under Madam Pince's nose, there were a few sections that she didn't frequent as much as others, such as the Wizarding Romance Novels. She had only read a few books from that section, and a few others as well, and that was when she had the occasional downtime and wasn't particularly feeling up to studying.

She was practically nearing the restricted section all the way in the far corner of the library when a particular shelf caught her eye.

"The Muggle Perspective," she muttered, her eyebrows furrowing together. She was pretty sure she had only been to this small shelf in the vast library for Muggle Studies, but because she was raised by muggle parents she hadn't seen the need to continue taking course work in something she had already known so much about. Underneath the section plaque was a brief summary etched in curly letters:

Notable novels about the Magical World written by Muggles.

She rose her hand to run across the spine of the first book on the shelf, a thin blue-ish thing with rounded edges.

"The Broken Sword," was the title, "Poul Anderson." She pressed her lips with her finger. She didn't know this one.

The next book, a bright green novel with large yellow lettering, "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum."

This one she knew. She smiled, the book bringing her thoughts back to her living room of her parents house, sitting on the floor with a brown woolen blanket a bowl of almonds and a glass of milk, her favorite snack, watching the brightly colored movie on the telly.

The next was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, the one after that, The Neverending Story. She perused the shelf about fifty or so books down until one really caught her eye.

"The Hobbit." She whispered.

It was a little brown book with small black lettering on the spine. She took it from the shelf and discovered the book was roughly leather-bound. The leather was soft with age and use, and on the front cover was a small ink drawing of a dragon. It looked delicate, almost as if she would probably be the last person to read it before the pages would crumble.

Hermione smiled, and brought it over to a small desk in the corner.

Chapter One: An Unexpected Party

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

Before she knew it, the sun had set over the snow covered castle, and Madam Pince was making her final rounds in the library, making sure there weren't any stragglers.

"Miss Granger?" She called at her.

Startled, Hermione jumped in her chair.

"Oh! Madam Pince!"

"Miss Granger," Pince walked toward her holding a large stack of books. "Miss Granger." She said again, "It is nearly curfew. You should be heading back to your dormitory."

Hermione realized how late it was. Sometime in the middle of her reading the sun had set, and the lanterns in the library had lit themselves.

"Oh," Hermione ran her hand over the cover of the book as she closed it, "I hadn't noticed it was so late…" She stood, placing the book on the desk, but finding it hard to leave it alone on the table, "already."

"Hermione, dear." The older woman cooed seeing her hand lingering on the small novel, "Take it with you tonight."

Realizing the grip and the emotional attachment she had developed unknowingly to the book, Hermione smiled at Pince.

"I only trust you will bring it back tomorrow?" Pince said with a wink.

Knowing that the woman was usually compared to a prune and generally just downright unpleasant, Hermione was slightly shell-shocked. All she could manage was a quick "Thank you," before she was off to the Gryffindor tower.

ooo

Midnight found Hermione at the final pages of The Hobbit.

She was in her Head Girl's room in the tower, sitting cross legged on her bed with a mug of pumpkin juice and some untouched rock cakes from Hagrid.

"Thank goodness!" said Bilbo laughing, and handed him the tobacco-jar.

"That's it?" Hermione muttered, feeling the rush of the story fading along with the smile that had been etched on her face all night.

No! She didn't want it to end! It had taken her forever to find a book she could get into. So into that she could forget who she was for an hour or two-

She reached for her pumpkin juice took a quick sip to calm her nerves, but before she could close the book, she spotted a small inscription at the bottom of the page.

If you are interested in Hobbits you will learn a lot more about them in The Lord of the Rings:

THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING

THE TWO TOWERS

THE RETURN OF THE KING

Hermione grinned.

She had a plan.

ooo

She had been in the library handfuls of times after curfew, most of those being ones that she had snuck around in the restricted section, but none of those times could compare to the way she felt now.

Maybe it was because she wanted to get away, or maybe it was because she hadn't read anything worth her time in a while. Maybe it was because the book had activated her sense of adventure by tempting her with "If you are interested in Hobbits you will learn more about them in…"

And she could never resist an opportunity to learn.

It was dark in the library, the only light coming from small lamps near the ceiling with small flickering flames, barely enough to light her way. But using her memory and the small illumination she did have she found her way back to single shelf from earlier.

Pulling her beaded bag that she still kept from the prolonged camping trip from her pocket, she reached in to the elbow, feeling for The Hobbit. When her fingers ran across the rough leather, she grabbed it and replaced it back onto the shelf.

Now all she had to do was look for The Lord of the Rings. And she didn't have a hard time doing that.

It was one of the largest books on the shelf, but certainly not in the whole library. Hermione had lugged around her fair share of 3 stone books. The binding and covers were a soft velvety black, and in the light she could see the large golden letters on the spine.

THE LORD OF THE RINGS

J. R. R. TOLKIEN

She picked it off the shelf, watching as the other books slid loosely into place of the missing one, making sure the noise they made wasn't loud as they slid into each other. Opening her beaded bag wider to get the book in more comfortably, she placed it on top of a surprisingly small stack of books all about medicinal herbs and potions, the old copy of Beedle the Bard that Dumbledore bequeathed to her and a few books on protective spells and the like that she had used and not bothered to remove since she had really needed them.

Turning from the bookshelf after making sure to close the bag tightly by the drawstrings she tip-toed her way out of the library and into the corridor. It was dark in the hall, but she again used the small light of the torches and her own memory to get her back to the grand staircase. She could have taken up her role as head girl in those moments and acted as if she was making rounds in the night and not have to sneak around in the dark in case she got caught, but she didn't feel the need. She just needed to get back to the common room at least and crack open the pages to the book and begin. Plus, there weren't that many students left for the holiday, so rounds by prefects and head students were virtually eliminated.

Hermione had barely let the portrait close behind her went she reached for her bag, pulling the book out and practically falling down into the couch in front of the fireplace.

Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-Lords in the halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne,

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all,

One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

It wasn't until the battle of Helms Deep and the dawn shining through the windows did Hermione realize the time, and just how tired she was. A few students came down from the stairs case on their way to breakfast, and to the urging of her stomach, rose from the couch to join them. She slid the novel back into the beaded bag, and pushed her way past the portrait.

There weren't that many people in the hall, but even without them Hermione's extreme fatigue weighed down on her legs, making her walk sluggish and energy-draining. She made it to the staircase before she had to take a break. She saw a bench off to the side, and made her way onto it, crashing into the stone on her bottom.

"Why am I so tired?" She murmured.

Maybe because you pulled an unnecessary all-nighter after being so stressed?

She shushed her thoughts, laying back against the cool marble wall, letting it lull her to quietness. She wouldn't fall asleep, she knew that. A near year of running around in the wilderness with Harry and Ron had made it so that she could sleep even if she was uncomfortable, but she wasn't about to sleep in the middle of the hallway.

She closed her eyes. In the redness of her eyelids she could see it- Middle Earth. Even though she was only halfway done, she could see it. The grasses in the plains, the trees in the forest, the pebble stones in the beds of the rivers. The many horses in the stables of Rohan, the leaves fallen on the ground in Rivendell, and the twinkling lights upon the flets of the Golden Wood.

She had to get more of it.

Her eyes shot to the beaded bag once more she pulled out The Lord of the Rings. She found the dog-eared page and begun where she left off, loosing herself once more in the words of Tolkien.

There was a pop and a clank next to her, and she rose from being nose deep in the book to discover a silver plate of fruit and honey drizzled toast accompanied by a large goblet of pumpkin juice. House elves.

Her stomach growled at the sight of the fruit and toast, and with one hand flipping the pages of the book, and another free to feed herself, she continued.

He drew in a deep breath. 'Well, I'm back,' he said.

"There goes that one," Hermione said as she traced her fingers along the last line. The book wasn't over though. After the last chapter there was a little over a hundred pages of appendix' and maps and she perused those for a bit before finally closing it.

ooo

She returned to the common room at lunch time, not in the mood to go to the Great Hall to eat.

"Perhaps I should return it to the library?" She said, but she found that she didn't want to. She hadn't bothered putting it away and carried it with her in plain sight. She sat again in the spot on the couch in front of the empty fireplace, placing the large book in her lap.

She opened it to a random page, and then flipped through the pages like she was shuffling cards.

She was coming back to reality and down from the high she was on and she didn't like it one bit. Like an addict she felt the symptoms of withdrawal, and tried to hold onto the book for dear life. She flipped through the pages once more, and this time something strange happened.

The pages started flipping of their own accord, and from somewhere deep inside the book, a golden light shone through, turning the pages into an iridescent yellow color.

The light grew, but before any more could happen, Hermione slammed the book closed and returned it to the beaded bag.

She had to return it to the library. Shining up like that, it wasn't natural, even in the wizarding world.

She remembered how Harry had described Tom Riddle's diary, and her experience with Tolkien's didn't seem too different. Her steps were quick, and in her concentration she nearly had collided in a hallway with Peeves, and had to redirect her path.

She made it back to her favored shelf of late, and reached down her beaded bag to what would hopefully be the last time for The Lord of the Rings.

The stack all the way in the bottom had tipped over in her attempt to suddenly escape Peeves, so she had to reach deeply to find the velvety covers.

But all she felt at the bottom of the pile were open pages, and from deep inside the little bag a light illuminated. Before Hermione could react the light consumed her and she was no longer in the library, but lying in a field of grass.

oOo

And just to be safe: