Harry Potter and the Wizard of Ashenbenford

-

Orel Maresk stared in panic down the halls of the catacombs. Where were Chathy and the rest of the group? Clumping feet were coming closer and closer behind him. He wasn't too terribly sure what the gods forsaken things were, but they could find him through his invisibility far too easily. From their snuffling, it was probably something to do with their keen noses.

Sibilant chanting came from behind him, giving him scant warning to dive to the side. Even so, he was nearly charbroiled by the purple flames.

"To the Abyss with this!" Orel said to himself fervently. It took a moment for him to rummage through his scroll case for a powerful scroll. He leaned up against a blue-ish rock speckled with red flecks. The words of the powerful transportive spell engraved into the paper seemed to catch fire as he read them. Unbeknownst to him, the red flecks of gems caught fire, brighter and brighter as he chanted.

He almost lost his concentration when he finally noticed. With a supreme effort, he finished as he hoped desperately that this wasn't going to explode him spectacularly. With an audible 'pop', he disappeared.

A moment later, he appeared deep within a forest. His arrival was unpleasant as a tree that he appeared within exploded. The built in safeguards of the glamour ejected him from the coexistent location to another area of the forest a mile or so away. He immediately dropped to the ground, smoldering.

"Ow." The young wizard rolled over. With careful prodding from his finger, he determined that most of his ribs were, in fact, intact. He wished he could say the same for his singed skin. "Where am I?" Orel asked himself.

Under the dark trees, nothing seemed to move. Honed senses could feel the subtle flow of natural magics. It made his skin crawl. He forced his fingers to dig out a potion. Luckily, it hadn't broken during his journeys.

The slimy pepper and oil taste made him nearly gag. Horrid stuff, even if it worked wonders. Letting himself just feel better for a second from the healing draught, he contemplated where he could be. Not enough information, he decided.

He bounced to his feet and looked around the area. With a shrug, he started walking.

-

A half an hour later he finally saw what appeared to be a clearing up ahead. He pushed himself on faster, almost flying thanks to the magic within his boots. At the edge of the forest, he pulled up short in surprise. That was a mighty large castle. And it positively reeked of magic, even more so than the forest behind him.

His quick eyes took in a ramshackle cabin near the edge of the woods. Always safer to talk to the commoners than to some noble that absolutely hates a down on his luck wizard. Orel pushed back the hood of his cloak. With a quick rappity-tap of his staff he knocked on the door. He frowned at its large size.

There was no response. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned and walked towards the castle. Within a short time, he had found the entrance to the castle.

Unguarded and unbarred as it was. Quite unusual. Carefully, he opened the door and stepped inside. It was spectacularly furnished. Armor and tapestries were everywhere. It positively reeked of wealth. The young man moved deeper into the castle.

"Mystra's Teats!" Orel cried out softly in sudden surprise. The pictures on the wall had a lifelike images within it. His eyes were looking back and forth like he expected one of the picture frames to suck him into it.

But something else nagged at his attention. It looked a little too cheerful to be steeped in evil magic. Besides, the pictures were snoring.

He was almost entirely tapped out of his magic, having only a few of his apprentice spells left and one magic missile. He reached into his boot to pull out a wand. A crossbow would be of no use here.

He turned to look back at the exit, only to find that stairs filled the area behind him. "Damn-damn-damn-damn-damn," he muttered. A creeping sense of dread enfolded him. With a jerk, he started to walk down the hall. He lifted the hood up over his head and muttered something. With a shimmer, he disappeared.

-

Under the cloak of invisibility, Orel swore loudly as another secret door closed behind him. "What a stupid gods' forsaken- How many secret doors does this damned place have?" He slid down to the floor while leaning against the wall. He was in over his head, that was for sure. No matter how hard he tried, the castle kept moving doors and stairs around. He couldn't find the exit! Even searching around for secret entrances hadn't helped him!

Orel pursed his lips. It was obvious that this was a school of some sort from what he'd seen of a few rooms. There didn't seem to be any people around right now, so perhaps it was a holiday or something. His best bet was to find some out of the way room and camp for the night. Then he'd be able to cast a lightning bolt to escape this silly place after resting. The windows didn't look that sturdy.

The gargoyle across the hall from him spun up and out of the alcove, opening the secret passageway again. Orel scrambled to his feet. Of course, he could try following someone-

"Stupify!" Albus Dumbledore shouted as he dashed into sight down the little spiral stair; hitting the hidden wizard quite squarely. The Headmaster looked around and then turned to examine the figure sprawled on the floor.

"Give me just a moment to remove his cloak. Ah, much better!" Dumbledore looked the travel-worn figure over. "Not much meat on that boy is there?" he asked his non-existent audience. Without further ado, he rummaged around on the person until he pulled out two wands. He quirked an eyebrow at that. "Eneverate!" he exclaimed with a wave of his wand.

The skinny and gangly boy awoke with a start, looking around wildly. He started jabbering while crawling backwards up against the wall.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked the bemused boy, holding out the candy.

He didn't understand the reply, but he was heartened to see him take the candy and study it thoroughly. He licked it cautiously and then swallowed it whole.

"Oh, dear. He must not know what it is. Like this!" the ancient wizard said. And with that, he popped the candy in his mouth and started sucking on it.

Orel stared at him for a long moment. Oh, a hard candy. He snickered loudly. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he had not eaten in hours. He held up a hand to forestall another candy. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a piece of dried venison to chew on.

"I'll need Estimagion's Advanced Charms, I think. I will be taking this ragamuffin to the great hall for lunch!" Dumbledore was as good as his word as he led his impromptu guest down to the great hall. "After all, it is time to eat."

The stranger seemed quite interested and perked up as they entered the room and seeing places set out. He slid his backpack to the ground behind the bench and looked at the ceiling, where it showed the bright and sunny day with an illusion.

A sullen, dark haired man was sitting there at the only other set place. He looked up in surprise.

"Eat up!" the headmaster commanded gently as the food appeared on the table. He noted curiously that the stranger watched them closely to see how they ate, then emulated them almost exactly.

"Headmaster Dumbledore! Something must be done about Peeves! He is absolutely destroying everything!" the ghostly Friar called out loudly and angrily as he came in straight through the main doors.

You couldn't tell who was more surprised when the stranger bolted out of his seat, chanted some words while wiggling his finger and flung bolts of light at the startled ghost, striking it squarely to some damaging effect. The ghost, Professor Snape and the headmaster stood there surprised for just a second as the stranger said something, (it sounded like curses, even if you couldn't understand his words) and then frantically pulled out a scroll from his belt and read aloud something that was written on it. A distortion in the area signaled a magical force field that had been conjured.

With a bit of trepidation he stood where he was while fishing in his boots for something.

"My dear friar, I think it would be best if you were to take this up with me at a later time. Perhaps this afternoon?" Dumbledore said as calmly as possible. Wandless magic of a high order!

"He attacked me! He even hurt me!" the ghost cried out.

"You were fairly scary looking as you came in the room, you do realize that? He may have thought that you were going to attack us all!"

"Me? But then, not all ghosts are known for their good hearts. I'm sorry." With that, the ghost turned and left the room.

"Accio Estimagion's Advanced Charms! I just need to refresh my memory." With that a book flew into the room and landed in front the oldest person present and started flipping pages by itself. "Here we go!" He turned suddenly to the young stranger again, stopping in surprise as he noted the defensive position.

"I think he is unsure that it is safe here, Professor Dumbledore," Snape said with a small, almost sinister smile. He was quite used to the headmaster's eccentricities.

"Hmm, yes. Very well, I'll cast the charm on you and then you can talk to him. That'll do! Transiotium Lithellium Forseemia!" he said, casting the spell on his fellow coworker.

"I do not suppose you could have asked me first?" Snape said sardonically.

"A translation spell, I take it?" Orel interrupted quickly.

"Of course."

"I'm Orel Maresk. Could you please tell me where I am? I managed to miscast a scroll rather spectacularly and I fear it sent me very far away from my friends."

"This is Hogwarts, the most famous wizarding school in the world! This is Professor Dumbledore here," he said smugly. "I am Professor Severus Snape."

"Hogwarts? Never heard of it. I'm afraid I didn't understand the term 'wizarding' either." But at least they were willing to talk now. He sat back down at the table. He watched in interest as old wizard cast the spell twice more, just to make sure that everyone could understand each other.

"The wizarding world? How can you cast magic and not know about that?" the sinister looking professor exclaimed.

"I'm not really meaning to sound stupid or anything, but that whole phrase really didn't mean a whole lot to me." Orel shoveled a quick bite into his mouth. Delicious!

"The wizarding world refers to society of all wizards and witches, apart from non-magical people, known as Muggles. Due to modern decree, wizards hide themselves from the Muggles so that the witch-burning and attacks that happened centuries ago don't happen again," Snape explained in his best lecturing voice.

"So these Muggles aren't aware that there are wizards? At all?" he managed to ask.

"Indeed! Most things of a magical sort have pulled away from the greater mass of humanity." Dumbledore studied the visitor closely.

Orel paused his eating for a second and concentrated. "It sounds like I've traveled further than I'd imagined. Another continent even."

"More than that, I fear. The Earth has been fairly well explored. All wizards on six of the seven continents would have probably heard of Hogwarts and know of Muggles and the decree from the European Ministry of Magic."

"What about the seventh continent?" Orel asked quickly.

"It is a cold and frozen place, fit for neither man nor beast. No wizarding community exists there." Dumbledore took a slow sip of his mug while seeming to be lost in thought.

Snape stared intently at the young man as he carefully carved into his own meal.

"Another Crystal Sphere then. That is bad... Unless you happen to know some magic that allows traveling between other realities."

"I'm afraid I don't. There are some spells for entering a persons dream, but that would be the closest I would think off the top of my head."

"This... is not good." Orel started to eat some of the excellent food in front of him as he concentrated deeply. It then occurred to ask, "Excuse me, are you the lord of this castle?"

Snape arched an eyebrow at that.

"Heavens no! I am merely the Headmaster." The old man seemed very amused at this.

"Headmaster? Is this a public school?" A germ of an idea was meandering through the boy's head.

"Yes. You are even the age to be attending Hogwarts. Not that I believe you could afford it in the slightest." Ragamuffin, Snape thought to himself.

"I don't care what you think. I doubt that you have anything that you could teach me. I've already finished my apprenticeship months ago!" Orel snapped back. Pompous, overblown windbag.

"You can Apparate?" Dumbledore asked interestedly.

"Apparate? Is that the name of a spell?" the young man asked curiously.

"Yes, the ability to move between two locations instantly."

"Ah, teleportation. I've mastered the weakest of that sort of spells. Useful for the short range, of course."

"Apparate has a great range, mere knowledge of where you are going is usually enough," Professor Snape said snidely.

"Really? How interesting," Orel mused. He instantly came to a decision. This was his most likely way home at this point. "How much would it cost to attend this school?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Because you are not from these lands, it is quite expensive. Over two hundred and fifty galleons, I'm sorry to say. And that doesn't even include the cost of school supplies."

Orel reached over to his backpack. "Money pouch," he commanded. Instantly a heavy bag pushed itself into his hands. "I have gold Waterdavian florins, but I'm not sure of the weight of a galleon." A thick, heavy gold coin was pushed in front of the headmaster.

"Unbespelled, inert and totally normal gold," Dumbledore murmured to himself. "That is nearly a galleon, so if you have the difference, we'll have a deal."

"Of course." And the young man was as good as his word, depositing the difference in front of him.

"Well, Professor Snape, I'd say that Mr. Maresk has managed to cover this year's fee to enter into Hogwarts. You have proven yourself capable of casting some magic. Here are your wands."

Orel took his wands back. "Why did you take these and not my scrolls, if I may ask? Wands are quite a bit easier to use, but my more powerful magics are on the scrolls."

The professors looked at each other in consternation. "It is much harder to do magic without a wand, is it not?"

The young man looked at them curiously. "There's quite a bit of effort in making a wand, but they're pretty much only useful to cast a particular magic many times at the expense of energies crafted into the wand. Takes a bit of doing too, of course."

"May I examine one of your wands?" Professor Snape asked; truly intrigued for the first time. The boy shrugged and handed him one back. "This is not a normal wand, Professor Dumbledore. This is an item with magic imbued into it of a single sort, if I don't miss my guess."

"Not that I just told you that," Orel cheekily informed him.

"Have a care, student. You'll find yourself in my classroom yet. And I demand the respect that any teacher should be given," Snape said with a curt wave of the wand.

"Please, Severus. Do you have a focal wand, Orel?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, I'm afraid."

"It looks like he will have to accompany you back to London and Diagon Alley. I have list of books and items that are required for our school. It starts in a mere week or so." Dumbledore looked bemused for a second. "I hope you are fairly quick in learning languages. The spell I cast upon you will only last a few weeks."

"It looks like I have a lot of studying to do."

"Go and clean yourself up. I will not take a ruffian with myself, even if you are a homeless student!" the younger teacher informed.

"A moment, then. Cleiduliuamiaus!" he pronounced the spell while wiggling his finger in a particular way. His clothing started to clean itself with great alacrity. In just a minute, he and it were as clean as could be.

"Come with me, boy. I hope you know how to use a broom, at least." Snape was trying very hard not to boggle. That seemed a very useful spell.

-

Orel hadn't, but he was a very quick learner and agile to boot. It was short trip to a small village. They landed at the edge of the town, which Severus Snape named Hogsmeade.

"Follow me, boy."

"I have a name. Teacher."

"Professor!" Snape said as he whirled around.

"Teacher!"

They glared at each other for a second.

"Very well, Mr. Maresk. This way."

"Of course, Professor Snape." Orel followed him closely, not wishing him to lose him in the small crowd that he was pushing through.

They entered into a tavern, which was vaguely interesting to Orel. It seemed taverns were omni-universal, no matter where you went. This one stank about as bad as the worst dives and back alleys.

Professor Snape nodded to the barkeep. "I'd like to use your fire to access the Floo Network."

The man grinned toothily. "Of course. Try to remember to buy a drink on the way back."

Snape smiled thinly. "It'll be my regular, of course." He walked towards the roaring fireplace while handing some dust to Orel. "You must buy your own Floo Powder for the trip home. Toss the powder into the fire, call out 'The Leaky Cauldron' and then step through the fire. I will go first."

Orel followed him just a moment later, using the strange, greenish powder. As he appeared in front of another fireplace after a disorienting ride, he staggered a bit. "You could have warned me that it's like riding a griffin in a thunderstorm!"

"You should always be ready for the unexpected," Snape said loftily.

Orel worked extra hard to control his temper for just a second. "So all of these people are wizards?"

"Or witches and squibs, of course. I will meet you back here in exactly two hours to take you back to Hogwarts. Do not be late." The thin professor turned without even waiting for a reply.

Orel frowned at his back. "Of course, professor."

-

"Greetings. I am Mr. Ollivander. You are here for a wand?" the ancient looking person asked from behind the counter.

"Yes, please." Orel looked him over curiously. "You are the Mr. Ollivander that wrote 'Crafting Conundrums'?"

The old man looked surprised. "Yes. Not many people are interested in making wands. But I felt it was a good idea to write a good book on exactly how one makes a wand. For future generations, of course."

"I look forward to reading it later." He accepted a wand that was shoved into his hands. "Eh?"

"Just wave it a bit. This is probably not the correct one," the wizened wizard explained.

"Very well," Orel replied. He shrugged and waved the wand experimentally. With a snap-pop he dropped it in a hurry. "Ouch!"

"That's odd. Don't push it so hard. Oak, twelve inches with a dragon string heart," the proprietor cautioned as he scooped up the first wand and handed him a second.

The young man nodded as he just waved the wand. "What type of dragon?" The wand still made his finger tingle. As a matter of course, he only pointed it away, towards the front window. Once bit, twice shy, after all.

"Ridgeback, as you were curious." Ollivander snatched the wand out of his hand, putting a new one in there just as fast. "Birch, ten inches with a sliver of unicorn horn."

Orel waved the wand at the front window again. The results, to say the least were slightly spectacular. Red sparks exploded from the wand and smashed the windows across the street. He dropped it almost immediately.

"Well, I think that one is yours," the shop owner said dryly. "Don't mind the window; I'll fix it in moment."

Orel just blinked. "Why did it do that?"

"You're trying to force too much magic through the wand. It is not safe; the wand can be burned out. And then you will have to do with a replacement that is never as good as your original wand. The wand chooses the user."

"Ah. That almost makes sense." Orel picked the wand up carefully. He pushed as lightly as he could with his magical energy. Crimson sparks again flew from the end in a great gout, but only out to about three feet. "That's going to take quite a bit of training, I think."

"It does. A lifetimes worth. That will be eight galleons and four sickles."

-

Just under two hours later, Professor Snape returned to the same tavern they appeared in. "Where is the broom that I let you use?"

"Right here, of course. Hogwarts' broom!" Orel snapped back as he reached back towards his magical haversack. The broom appeared in his hand instantly. "You can be a truly unpleasant person when you set your mind to it, Professor Snape."

"Mind your tongue, Mr. Maresk. We are going back to the 'The Hog's Head' now." Snape then said the coded destination and disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

"Why don't we go directly to the castle?" Orel mused. Probably not secure enough, now that he thought about it. With a shrug, he followed the teacher.

"Thank you for the drink," Snape was saying as Orel appeared in the fireplace. He walked out without even waiting to see if he followed. With practiced movements, he slipped onto his broom and kicked off into the air.

Orel followed as quickly as possible again. He did not like this professor at all.

Soon they were walking deeper inside of Hogwarts.

"Ah, there you are! Professor Snape, thank you for taking the time to run that errand for me. I need to talk to Orel Maresk about the studies he is going to have to do to get ready for the school year," Dumbledore exclaimed as he appeared rather suddenly.

"Of course. I was able to cut short an unpleasant business." Snape turned and walked off without further ado.

Dumbledore looked down at his newest student. "So, did you find all of the books you needed?"

"Yes, and some more besides. I figured that I would need to get the previous years books also. That makes some pretty hefty reading that I have to do in the short time available."

"Yes. Very forward thinking of you! This will be your room, until you are sorted into one of the Houses."

"Houses?"

"Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

Orel looked up for a moment. "Interesting names, at least."

"And also the fact that you can not, whatever you do, let people become aware of your wandless magical casting ability."

"Say that again?"

-

Harry sat in the coach watching the scenery while Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood chatting amicably as they waited for the trip to Hogwarts on the Express. Neville Longbottom was looking at his new plant with curiosity.

"This seat isn't taken, is it?" a boy asked. He looked to be about the same age as Harry, near enough. A bit shorter and even skinnier, if that seemed possible. He was wearing comfortable traveling clothes and an expensive looking cloak. He dumped his well-worn backpack into the luggage rack.

Luna looked at him curiously. "I don't know you, either. What house are you in?"

Orel nodded in acknowledgement. "None, yet. I am just starting this year. Interesting."

"Really? Where did you go to school?" Ginny asked curiously.

"I studied under my old master near the orphanage in Ashenbenford."

Luna looked a bit nonplussed. She scratched the side of her forehead. "I've never heard of that place."

"I doubt you would." To distract that line of thinking, he said, "I'm Orel Maresk."

"Ginny Weasley!" the red-haired girl exclaimed.

"Luna Lovegood," the spacey, blonde-haired girl informed.

"Harry Potter."

"No one, really."

"Really, Neville! That's twice in one day. Ign- Don't ignore him, this is Neville Longbottom," Ginny exclaimed.

"Good to meet you all. So what is this school like?" he asked them.

Harry blinked in surprise at not getting stared at, and then smiled.

"Oh, it's pretty good. Professor Snape is always horrible, of course."

"We've met. He is very infuriating," Orel said with a cold voice. He shook his head for a second. "I think I much prefer the Floo Powder method of traveling. This over-grown Dwarven contraption doesn't look at all safe. Even if it is faster than all but the fastest horses."

The other students looked at each other oddly. This new fellow was quite... different.

"You've never seen a train before?" Harry asked.

"No, not like this. I wonder what makes it go? It has to be some more of that Muggle science stuff, think." He reached over to his small pack. "Spellbook Primus." A large and slightly battered leather-bound book appeared in his hands, as the pack seemed to spit it out at him.

Neville looked quite interested in the pack more than the overly grown book. "Say, that's a really neat bag! Where did you get it?"

"A wizard's shop of curios. It's fairly common, if a trifle expensive. About the cost of a really expensive suit of armor for a wealthy lord."

"I heard that Malfoy has a chest that is larger on the inside, like that!" Ginny exclaimed.

A pained expression appeared on Harry's face. "I've seen one before. It looked like a small room. You aren't carrying any bodies in there, are you?"

"It doesn't carry that much!" Orel snapped. He turned to his book pointedly, ending the conversation.

-

Ron and Hermione returned, cramming themselves in the compartment. They launched into a discussion with their friends several things that really didn't mean a lot to Orel, at least not yet. The red-haired prefect slipped in between Harry and Orel, barely taking the time mouth an apology.

Orel looked up from his book in consternation to see Luna laughing hysterically from something the red-haired prefect had just said.

"Baboons... backs!" she howled.

Orel shrugged. "I must have missed that."

Harry nodded and grinned at him.

Hermione looked over and really registered the new person. "Oh, terribly sorry. I'm Hermione Granger!"

"Orel Maresk." He kept skimming his book, not really reading.

"Oh? What is that?" the smartest Gryffindor asked.

"Just my personal spell book. Well, the first one."

Harry and Ginny chimed in simultaneously. "Personal?"

"Er, yes. I'm not really supposed to talk about it much."

Luna had finally quit laughing when Harry asked to borrow her magazine. His face showed absolute confusion and then consternation. At least until the door slammed open.

"Well, well! It's Harry Potter! How's it feel to be second best to Ron Weasley?" a smartly dressed and coifed blond-haired boy said snidely. "As you can obviously see, I made prefect! It was to be expected, of course."

"You are still a git! That hasn't changed anything."

"Ah! Enemy reacquaintancing! Interesting!" Orel said brightly.

"Who are you?" the lead Slytherin asked. His cronies hung out behind him, grinning vapishly.

"Orel Maresk. Pleased to meet you." The boy's crystal blue eyes stared at the other boy menacingly from under his ornate circlet, the only thing holding back his unruly hair.

"Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prefect." He sniffed a bit. "Probably a mud-blood to boot."

"And what, pray Mystra, is a 'mud-blood'?" the unknowingly insulted boy asked curiously.

Hermione had become absolutely livid. "Draco! I can't believe you said that! A Prefect is supposed to set a good example!"

"Would someone please explain?" It was not really a question.

Ron finally responded as Draco smirked, "It means your parents weren't Wizards, they were Muggle-born."

"Oh? I have no idea about my father. My mother was definitely not magical, of course. She had other... talents." Orel's eyes seemed to become much darker and more dangerous.

"Ah! You'll end up in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Definitely not Slytherin."

Orel smiled pleasantly. "I would rather die than end up in Slytherin. Even if I wasn't a 'mud-blood'."

"You are an odd fellow, Orel. Mud-bloods had better watch their backs these days. Something bad... might happen." Draco turned around to walk away, his cronies following him while they shot menacing glares back.

"Oh, Draco?" Orel waited until Draco turned around. "It's really stupid to insult someone so. And then turn your back on them."

The rest of the compartment gasped in surprise or admiration.

Draco narrowed his eyes in anger. "We'll see, Mud-blood."

Harry finally asked, "You aren't really thinking of doing anything to him, are you?"

The newcomer turned to look at him with appraising eyes. "If he starts anything, I'll finish it."

The silence was quite uncomfortable, rain lashing against the train in muted torrents. Nothing further was said as the train continued, until everyone changed into their school robes. Ron and Hermione begged off to do their Prefect duties, leaving their pets with their friends and going off to help everyone off the train.

Harry seemed quite surprised at something about the carriages. Orel looked over, seeing the undead looking creatures. Ron had shown back up, breathless and asking about his owl.

"Ron, do you see something... odd about the carriages?" Harry asked, worriedly.

"What? It's the same carriages as always, of course."

"I mean, pulling them?" Harry replied to Ron.

"You mean the undead looking lizard-horses with demonic wings?" Orel asked conversationally. He wondered what spells would be required to create such a creature. It looked terribly evil and fierce. Quite intriguing, actually.

"Yes... What, you see them too?" Harry blurted out gratefully.

Ron just looked at them as if they'd gone insane. "You two are daft, there's nothing there!" Ron exclaimed.

"No, I can see them too," Luna said dreamily. "They've always been there. But not everyone can see them."

Orel looked interested at that. "Naturally invisible to most people? How strange."

"You guys are freaking me out!" Ron said. If it had been just Luna and maybe Harry, he could have ignored it. But Orel seemed to be describing what Harry thought he was seeing.

Harry just shrugged, but his mind was much more at ease as they entered the carriage. It started raining again as the carriages plodded towards the mystical castle. During the shuffle when entering Hogwarts, Harry ended up with his two best friends at their house's table, but had lost Orel somewhere. Harry thought about it for a second and then realized that, of course, the new boy would have to be sorted into a house.

The trio listened with a bit of morbid curiosity as the hat jumped into its song. It was much more foreboding, warning that the school must band together to survive. Professor McGonagall started to list of the names.

With a quirky grin, Harry noted that most people were only keeping an ear open for the first year's students. Only a few people noted the "Maresk, Orel" that was in the middle. And most just ignored him anyways. That hat sat much more normally on his head than the smaller students.

Almost everyone turned suddenly when the hat finally said, hoarsely said, "Gryffindor. Only Gryffindor." Even the professors looked startled at the hat that would always cheerfully shout which house the wearer would join barely said it loud enough to hear.

Orel walked over to sit next to Ron, Hermione and Harry to belated applause. Soon the rest of the first years were sorted. A scrumptious meal appeared in front of them, which Ron immediately tried to stuff down his throat all at once. Orel ignored the daft-seeming (and that is all Orel would let himself think in that matter, for he knew better) headmaster start some announcements, only to be interrupted by the toad-like woman sitting next to him.

He frowned as he tried to discern the meeting behind the lengthy (and boring) speech she rambled into. He listened carefully as Hermione explained how she thought the Ministry of Magic was going to be interfering with the classes here, before she and Ron had to run off to help the first years to the common room.

"Why such a long face, Harry?" Orel asked as they walked towards the Gryffindor common room.

"It's just... that Umbridge woman is going to be trouble. I can feel it." Harry looked even more worried.

"What is Defense Against the Dark Arts, any ways?" the newer student asked.

"It's where you learn to fight with magic, of course. I heard that it used to be called the Dark Arts, long ago."

"Hmm. Interesting."

"Interesting?" Harry asked, very confused.

"I wonder if they changed more than the name of the course?" Orel mused to himself.

Neville caught up to them and informed them of the Gryffindor password, the name of his rare plant that he had brought to school 'Mimbulus mimbletonia.' They soon settled into their dorm room, which suspiciously fit the new bed without being crowded. At least to the other boys, Orel didn't know better.

Orel listened quietly to Harry and another of the dorm-mates, Seamus, get into a row about Harry's mental well being and the fact that Seamus had almost not been allowed back to Hogwarts.

The stranger in their midst listened closely as they argued back and forth vehemently, until Neville actually seemed to calm it down with his simple declaration that if the headmaster thought that 'You-Know-Who' was back, then that was good enough for him and his grandmother.

Orel laid down for a little while in thought and then pulled out his books to study the different magical theories.

-

That next morning, after the incredibly boring class of history being taught, by all things, a ghost, they migrated down to dungeon for their next class.

"Ah, Mr. Maresk. You've been studying up on potions, have you?" Professor Snape asked coldly as he entered his classroom. The other students looked askance at the new Gryffindor who seemed to have already upset the potions- master.

"Yes, Sir." Orel kept his temper below the surface of his expression. He thought he felt something touch his mind for a moment.

"We shall see how well you do." Snape reiterated to the class how important this year was, again. As had the previous teacher, of course. OWLS seemed to be very important, for some reason.

The lesson was grueling, each student nervously following the directions as exactly as possible. Snape seemed to take great delight in showing several students their errors. The worst offenders in his eyes seemed to be Potter, Longbottom and Maresk. Only Hermione had successfully brewed the potion to his exact specifications.

"I had thought you were a bright person, Mr. Maresk. But you seemed to have failed as abysmally as Mr. Longbottom!" the potions teacher said scathingly, pointing at the blue-tinged potion that was bubbling ominously.

"Actually, Professor Snape, I am quite satisfied with my potion," Orel replied as calmly as possible.

Everyone, including the professor looked slightly shocked at that. "You are satisfied with that execrable excuse for a draught?"

The Dalelander just smirked. "For my first potion, it was adequate. Professor."

"You had never brewed a potion before?" the distraught teacher managed to ask. The idea that Orel had not ever brewed a potion before seemed to stun him.

"No, not really. I had brewed some inks for other, magical processes. But never a potion. The different books that I read do illustrate some remarkable processes. I look forward to learning quite a bit more."

Snape narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Very well. We'll see how adequate your knowledge really is. I expect you to be quite thorough in your dissertation on Moonstones and their uses in potions."

-

"Greetings students! I have been following your fates over the school holiday and I'm pleased to see that my predictions of you all safely returning were born out!" The owlish looking teacher seemed pleased to see them all, until her gaze fell on Orel. "I had hoped that this new darkness that I saw in your form would not arrive, however. I had not expected to see the Sorting Hat put you in that house." She seemed not to be surprised to see the newest fifth-year Gryffindor in the least.

Orel seemed totally unfazed by the greeting and nodded. "Orel Maresk."

"I am Professor Trelawney. You will pardon me if I do not welcome you to my classroom."

"I will try to not intrude too much into your aura. I'm sure it must discomfit you."

The class blinked at that. They had a slightly creepy feeling that they were missing about half of this conversation. And not in a good way.

Trelawney seemed satisfied with that. "I think we will be able to manage that." The class proceeded normally until the students went up to pick up their books to interpret their dreams.

Orel had taken his book and pulled out his natty quill. After a moment of thought, he raised his hand. "Excuse me, Professor."

"Yes, Mr. Maresk?" the professor asked, suddenly apprehensive.

"I've noticed that you haven't included any instructions for any spells. Is that normal?"

Several of the other students snickered. Spell casting in divination? How daft could you be?

"The all-seeing eye is not something that you can cast a mere spell to unlock!" Trelawney said primly.

The boy looked momentarily confused. "So you are expecting us to develop into seers without any magical benefit? Surely the basics of divination magic are taught in this class?"

Now several of the students, including Ron and Harry, were looking unsettled.

"And what spells do you expect me to teach you?" she replied scathingly.

"I would assume that a simple spell to see magical energies would be the first one, of course. It is the most trivial of magics."

The professor looked intrigued. "Please, show us an example. I am not unwilling to expand my students' chances to open their inner eye."

Orel flourished his wand and then pointed it at her. "Occulum! I took the liberty to let the magic affect you, so that you can see for yourself."

Trelawney looked confused for a second. Then her face brightened. "An ingenious spell. Why does the aura around the different magical items glow with different colors?"

"They can denote what effects the item has, of course. It takes skill to successfully decipher what it does. It's very good training for later divinations."

Trelawney suddenly jumped to her feet. "Class, we shall adjust the curriculum to include this interesting example. Mr. Maresk, you shall demonstrate for the class."

"Crikey! Now we're going to be learning spells in Divination too?" Ron complained.

"Actually, Ron... If they are real spells that can help us, I'm not going to complain too much," Harry said bemusedly.

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not too sure."

"It has to be better than this malarkey that she usually has us doing!"

-

After Divination, Ron and Harry met back up with Hermione on their way to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Umbridge had admonished all of the students again about their OWLS, of course. She had then explained the courses curriculum and then had the students start to get into their reading, turning away from them.

After half of the class had stopped reading to see Hermione holding up her hand trying to gain the teacher's attention, Umbridge finally deigned to take notice of her. "Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.

"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge, showing her small pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," said Hermione.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

"And your name is?"

"Hermione Granger," said the Gryffindor.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.

"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

Orel raised his hand, but was interrupted. "We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr-?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Orel.

"Yes, Mister -?" Umbridge waited for Orel Maresk to supply his last name. "Maresk. You wanted to ask something?"

"How are we supposed to properly learn the physical mechanics of defensive spell casting if we are to practice casting no spells?" the intense young man asked.

"This course has been carefully geared towards the theoretical understanding and uses of defensive magic. There is no need, I repeat, no need for actual spell casting within this class. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-"

"What use is that?" said Harry loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a-"

"Hand, Mr. Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge.

Harry thrust his fist in the air. Again, Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him, but now several other people had their hands up, too.

"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Dean.

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free."

"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but -"

Orel raised his hands again. Professor Umbridge talked over Dean. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half- breeds."

"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean angrily, "he was the best we ever-"

"Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying - you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day -"

"No we haven't," Hermione said, "we just -"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"

Hermione put up her hand. Professor Umbridge turned away from her.

"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you."

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads."

"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" trilled Professor Umbridge. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about.

"That is a load of crock!" Orel finally exclaimed.

"I have not called upon you, Mr. Maresk!" the professor sing-songed.

"You are correct, you have not! You have been ignoring me quite well!"

"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said pointedly as she turned away from him, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," said Professor Umbridge dismissively."

"Without ever practicing them beforehand?" said Parvati incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough -"

"Ah! You are pulling a Gurglanian Rebuttal!" Orel exclaimed, his hand still in the air

"A what?" the startled professor asked as she turned back the odd student.

"A Gurglanian Rebuttal is an obvious misdirected statement of fact because you do not wish to expose your real reasons to scrutiny." Orel looked quite smug.

"Are you insinuating what I believe you are?" the woman said very softly.

"That you are lying about the reasons behind-"

Umbridge suddenly bounded to her feet in a livid fury. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your accusation!"

"Because I can see through your incredibly silly logic without even trying? Studying theory is all-good, but practical experience in actual spell casting cannot be understated for real life learning!"

Professor Umbridge looked incensed. "This is school, Mr. Maresk, not the real world," she said softly.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?" Harry suddenly interjected with his hand up again.

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Nothing out there? Then why exactly is the Forbidden Forest, forbidden? From what I've heard from other students there are creatures there that could be cataloged as monsters!" Orel exclaimed.

"This is not the Forbidden Forest. There is no reason for you to have to cast spells in or out of this class to defend yourselves. There is no one who is going to attack children," Professor Umbridge said in a horribly honeyed voice.

"What about someone like say... Lord Voldemort?" asked Harry in a mock thoughtful voice.

Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.

Orel raised his hands. "Excuse me? Who is this Lord Voldemort?"

Now all eyes turned towards him in incredulity, for at least just a moment. Orel decided to shut up for a while.

Umbridge turned back towards Harry. "Now, let me make a few things quite plain."

Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned towards them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.

"You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead -"

"He wasn't dead," said Harry angrily, "but yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-makematters- worse-for-yourself," said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."

"It is NOT a lie!" said Harry. "I saw him, I fought him!"

"Detention, Mr Potter!" said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, Basics for Beginners."

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk. Harry, however, stood up.

Everyone was staring at Harry; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.

"Harry, no!" Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach.

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" Harry asked, his voice shaking. His expression of outrage was quite visible.

There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry talk about what had happened on the night Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face. Orel narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she said coldly.

"It was murder," said Harry. He could feel himself shaking. He had hardly spoken to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates. "Voldemort killed him and you know it."

Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank. For a moment, Harry thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear."

He kicked his chair aside, strode around Ron and Hermione and up to the teacher's desk. He could feel the rest of the class holding its breath. He felt so angry he did not care what happened next.

Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling, hunched over so that Harry could not see what she was writing.

Nobody spoke. After a minute or so, she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him.

He took it from her without saying a word, turned on his heel and left the room, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, slamming the classroom door shut behind him.

"So, I take it, no one is going to tell me who this Lord Voldemort fellow is. Or isn't, as the case may be?" Orel asked flatly.

"I am through discussing this matter now, Mr. Maresk. You may join Mr. Potter in detention tomorrow, after school."

Orel raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing more. The class released their held breath finally and opened their books.

-

Orel specifically caught up to Harry, Ron and Hermione at the supper table in the great hall. Hermione had just slammed her utensils down and stood up to leave.

"Excuse me? Harry, do you mind if I tag along back to our common room?" Orel asked.

Harry kind of grunted as he ignored the people around him. "What d'you mean, you're not sure they believed Dumbledore?" Harry asked Hermione when they reached the first-floor landing.

"Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened," said Hermione quietly. "You arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric's dead body... none of us saw what happened in the maze ... we just had Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you."

"Which is the truth!" said Harry loudly.

"I know it is, Harry, so will you please stop biting my head off?" said Hermione wearily. "It's just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you're a nutcase and Dumbledore's going senile!"

"Then they are fools," Orel interjected. "Dumbledore puts on an act of pure buffoonery, but he has a very astute mind. Now that I have your attention, may I please get a straight answer about this Voldemort?"

Ron made a vaguely strangled noise. Hermione just looked at him intently.

"Lord Voldemort is a Lord of the Dark Arts that murdered my parents when I was a baby. For some reason, he failed to kill me and his killing curse rebounded on himself. He didn't die, though. And just last year, he managed to regain most of his former power and form." Harry gulped with emotion. For some reason he had little problem with telling this stranger who was not being judgmental. "Cedric... was murdered at his orders while I barely escaped with my life."

"And the government doesn't wish to acknowledge that he is back? Why?" Orel asked.

Hermione looked uncomfortable, but answered. "You-Know-Who hasn't made a move since then, so a lot of people don't want to admit that he might be back."

"And there is nothing but your eye witness account of this, I take it. Other than this dead boy?"

Harry nodded as Hermione said, before the Fat Lady could ask, 'Mimbulus mimbletonia.' The portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind it and the four of them scrambled through it.

The common room was almost empty; nearly everyone was still down at dinner. Crookshanks uncoiled himself from an armchair and trotted to meet them, purring loudly, and when Harry, Ron and Hermione took their three favorite chairs at the fireside, he leapt lightly on to Hermione's lap and curled up there like a furry ginger ball.

Orel sat nearby, but kept his ears open as they complained about the new teacher. He was only brought into the conversation when Ron tried to cast the charm that allowed you to see magical auras and failed.

"Hey! Orel! Show us how to do that again!" Harry asked a small smile on his face. "Hermione doesn't seem to think that what you did is possible."

Hermione watched carefully as Orel performed the incantation with the required wand movements. At the end, he touched himself with the wand. "There!" Orel watched in surprise as it only took her two attempts to actually figure out the incantation. It had taken him days to adapt the 'detect magic' spell to wand use!

"How interesting! And you invented that spell?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"As much as I would like to be able to claim that, no. It was one of the first spells I learned from Master Velumus. It is quite ancient in the lands I come from." Orel nodded his head in thought. The old wizard had not wanted him to leave his apprenticeship, but staying had not really been something possible.

"A category of spell dedicated just to divination. An odd, but interesting concept." Hermione was suddenly distracted. "Now they've gone too far! Come on, Ron!"

Ron saw what she was looking at and tried to sink deeper into the chair. "Come on, we can't tell them of for giving the first years treats like-"

"Fainting Fallacies?" Harry finished quietly as the first years surrounding Fred, George and Lee Jordan started to collapse.

Ron almost followed Hermione, but finally settled back as she dealt with the twins with a dire threat of motherly intervention. After she came back, she attempted to do some homework. She then left her badly knitted hats hidden under some parchments and Ron had pulled them from under the papers because of their argument about freeing House Elves.

"They should at least see what they're picking up," he said firmly. "Anyway ..." he rolled up the parchment on which he had written the title of Snape's essay, "there's no point trying to finish this now, I can't do it without Hermione, I haven't got a clue what you're supposed to do with moonstones, have you?" Ron looked over at Harry without any hope.

"Most of what you need is within Rocks of Ages by Hurl Daman," Orel mentioned helpfully. "It has a neat list of uses and specific non-uses."

Harry and Ron looked surprised. "Really?" Harry replied.

Orel nodded. "How about you tell me about these House Elves and I'll give you some pointers on your home work?"

"That seems fair," Ron said excitedly.

-

Orel was very unhappy by the time that his lesson in Transfiguration and Charms were done. The teachers were nattering along about the OWLS still. It appeared to be some sort of competency test that was administered by an external teaching authority.

And his wand-work, while not absolutely pathetic, was not as good as he'd hoped.

Ron had looked incredulously at him. "Crikey! It thought you were nearly as smart as Hermione?"

"She's quite the brain, eh?" Orel replied, thinking to himself that he was most likely smarter. "Truth to tell, my wand work is a touch spotty. I've been attempting to catch up as quickly as possible. It wasn't a thoroughly studied subject in my lands."

Harry just nodded encouragingly as he could. "If that's spotty wand-work, you'll be fine once you get caught up. What sort of magic do they study in Ashenbenford?"

He had only managed to read halfway through his piles of books. If only he hadn't taken that day or two to travel to London to St. Mungos'. But there had been a real hope that they might have had a cure for him. He shook himself out of his stupor a second later. "Oh, lots. Maybe I'll tell you some stories about it later?"

Orel was not too impressed with the care for magical creatures. As he put it, he wasn't going to be raising or handling magical creatures. But, since it was required, he put his mind to it. He was quite intrigued about this Hagrid character that Harry and his friends cared about.

Herbology started off quite interestedly with a Luna Lovegood and Ernie MacMillan both stating their belief and support for Harry and what he'd said. The class was quite like the other with another mention of OWLS again and even more homework. This was nearly as much work as Velumus had ever thrown at him. At least they didn't have to do chores, too.

-

Orel rapped on the door to Umbridge's office.

"Come in, deary." Professor Umbridge sat at her desk. To small tables were laid out with parchments. "Take a seat. You will be writing lines. I wish you to write I must not accuse. Do you understand? You will be using this quill."

Orel replied stiffly. "Of course, Professor Umbridge. Is there anything else?"

"No, that should do it." The professor looked hungrily at the door for just a second. As if she were truly waiting for someone else. Which did occur just a moment later.

As soon a Harry appeared, he understood. She truly wanted him here, where she could punish him. She greeted him and had them start their lines. He glanced over at Harry for a second when he clutched his forehead in seeming pain as Umbridge touched him. They started their lines at her order, both flinching in surprise as the odd pain on the back of their hand.

Harry and Orel exchanged startled glances as they realized that the black quills were using their blood as ink.

"Is there a problem?" Umbridge asked sweetly.

Harry set his jaw stubbornly. "No, Professor Umbridge." He doggedly went back to his lines. Orel nodded mutely as he followed Harry's example.

For hours, they continued their lines. Orel set a part of his mind to continue writing the lines as he went over the different studies, trying to ignore the pain on his hand. He was not always successful, but his powers of concentration were a touch better, he thought to himself.

Finally, the frumpy looking teacher had them come up and examine their hands. She 'tut-tutted' and seemed to be almost gleeful that Harry would be back tomorrow. She put on a sorrowful face at the lack of progress that Orel had made.

They left just a minute later and started to walk back towards their common room. Harry glanced over Orel, noting his taught neck muscles. "Are you all right, Orel? You mustn't let her get you down."

"She has not gotten me down, Harry." Orel's voice was a chill as the arctic wind. "I am controlling my temper so I don't go back there and murder her. This school is the only viable means that I have to get back to my home. She is merely another obstacle in my way."

Harry felt a worried chill creep up his back. "Aren't you angry at her for that torture she put us through?"

"It... irritated me. It was not as much pain as a decent switching; much less the beatings that I endured to learn my magic. She has merely become an enemy, one to be destroyed at my convenience."

They spoke the password and entered the common room, past the portrait of the fat lady.

Harry groaned. "I haven't had time to do any of my homework except for Potions and History. I'm doomed."

"We'll just have to stay up." Orel considered what he'd have to do to do that. Some caffres would be needed, he decided.

"I'm so tired that I'm not sure I'd be able to focus properly," Harry said with a small shake of his head.

"We'll need to get something to keep us awake while we study. Do you know where the kitchens are? I think I could make us something to keep us awake for a few hours."

Harry nodded. "But we'll have to sneak past Filch and his cat."

"I have a cloak of invisibility. I'll retrieve the stimulants then."

Harry grinned. "Actually, I have a cloak, too. Of invisibility, I mean. And a very special map."

Orel was very impressed with the map, while Harry was stunned to discover that the cloak he'd seen him wearing was his invisibility cloak. "But it doesn't look like an invisibility cloak!"

"It requires an activation word. Zarko." And even though his head had not been covered, he disappeared. Harry's invisibility cloak did not require an activation word, but had to cover everything to work correctly. You could tell just by looking at it that it was an invisibility cloak.

Procuring something to keep them awake was a matter of simplicity. The hours of homework, were not. But it was finished and they trotted off to bed incredibly late.

The next morning Ron was bleary eyed as he struggled to write in his dream diary. After their hurried breakfast, they headed to Transfiguration again. Orel wasn't sure why the classes weren't every other day or not, but he figured it had to do with scheduling or something. Harry and himself managed passably well with Vanishing the snails, but only barely. Ron had progressed enough to actually make his translucent at least.

The rest of the week passed by quickly, though Orel made it a point to make sure that Harry had some coffee to help keep him awake after his detention. It was nasty tasting and vile, but it seemed to be the only thing that resembled his lands caffres. He would also stay up late, muttering that he would have enough time to sleep in his old age.

Harry stopped at one point to pour himself some more of the vile, black liquid. "Orel, why are you helping me?"

"Umbridge wishes to crush your spirit and destroy your standing within this school. I will not give her the satisfaction of doing so."

Harry's eyes wandered over the names of the different books Orel was reading. "Why are you reading several years worth of transfiguration?"

"I'm not really supposed to say," Orel replied.

"I won't blab, you know that!"

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" he muttered to himself. "The truth of the matter is, the magic from my land is very different from what you do here. I've had to retrain myself from scratch nearly. It is more difficult than I'd expected."

"Different?" Harry prodded.

"There are no focal wands like you use here. The magic here also appears to require a great deal of concentration where you can bypass what is considered normal for your age. I'm barely hanging on by pure determination."

"They do wandless magic where you come from?"

"Of a sort. It usually requires focal items and components, just not a wand. I am doing several avenues of research into cross crystal-sphere travel." Orel sighed. "The only one I've had any success at has been ethereal transmutation. It isn't unknown where I'm from, but has a very short duration."

"So how is wand-magic different?" Harry asked with curiosity. Anything to say awake.

The Dalelander pursed his lips in thought. "A focal wand allows me much greater variety in my spell casting. It also makes it much easier. It's going to be revolutionary in the lands I come from." Much like the sorcerers of my land, but with the ability to actually learn spells, Orel mused to himself.

-

"Good morning, Harry," Orel said from his chair by the fireplace. It was a splendid morning and the first weekend. Orel was still getting used to a week that was only seven days long.

"Good morning. Still studying?" Harry asked as he pulled out his quill to write a letter to his Godfather.

"Yes. I think I finished that spell, I just need to test it out some time," Orel replied with a yawn.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"A few hours. I can rest when I dead."

Harry laughed for a second, until he realized that Orel seemed to be very serious about that. "Er, um... yes." Harry carefully scribbled out his letter and then stood.

Orel looked up. "Where are you headed?"

"The Owlrey. I've a letter to send and that's where I keep Hedwig, my pet owl." Harry thought about it a second. "You've got a pet toad, don't you? Neville mentioned it to me."

"Ah, yes. Sprocket." Orel reached into his very small pouch and pulled out his familiar, who was definitely larger than the pocket. "I really don't let him out much. He's bound to me in a rather special way. He's not just a pet, really." Sprocket just sat there, puffing himself up. Orel suddenly started making the oddest, almost toad-like sounds. Sprocket seemed to respond for a second and then held his mouth open to receive a few bugs from a pouch. Orel stood up to follow Harry.

Harry smirked. "I hadn't heard of a Parseltongue for toads."

"Parseltongue?"

"I can speak to snakes, which is called Parseltongue. It makes me feel a bit uncomfortable, but it's had its uses."

Orel smiled fondly at his little toad. "No, I don't speak toad. It's a special property of the magics I cast on Sprocket to make him into a magical beast. He and I can understand each other pretty well. He's not terribly smart yet, but he becomes smarter as I become more powerful."

"I wonder if I could learn to do that with Hedwig?" Harry mused.

"I don't see why not. I'm sure that Ron and Hermione would not want to be left out, too!" Orel grinned wickedly.

Harry grinned at that too. "Just about inseparable, we are." He opened the doorway from the Gryffindor common room. Just out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a flicker of ghostly white, but there was nothing there when he turned to look. "Off we go."

They had just walked past a bust of Paracelsus when it suddenly flew at them, causing them to duck.

"Peeves!" Harry shouted. The pernicious poltergeist cackled merrily.

Orel sniffed. "Stupid ghost. Why don't you go bother someone who cares? Oh, I forgot! No one cares about a prat like you!"

"Why you!" Peeves suddenly cried out in anger. He grinned suddenly and then flew at the startled boy, ripping off his ornate circlet. "Princesses shouldn't talk unless talked to!"

"You dratted poltergeist! That's an expensive magical item! Etherismugato!" Orel shouted as he finished waving his wand in a complicated manner. He suddenly took the hue and transparency of the ghost he was looking at. Peeves looked quite startled. "I'll meet up with you later, Harry! I'm going to teach this pest not to mess with me!" he shouted as he charged right after the surprised ghost, who dived right through a wall, the circlet clattering to the ground behind him. Orel dove right after him, as insubstantial as Peeves.

Harry walked over and picked up the circlet. "Hmm. I wonder what it does? Better keep it safe," Harry muttered as he picked up the circlet. He slipped it into his pocket and continued his walk upstairs to the owlrey, passing a suspicious looking Mrs. Norris.

"Ah, there you are!" Orel shouted as he spotted the poltergeist as he rounded a corner. He may be ethereal, but that didn't mean he could see through walls. "Staff!" he shouted for his magic backpack to retrieve for him.

Peeves looked like he was starting to become scared. He passed a few people, startling Cho as she exited the Ravenclaw common room. She was even more startled as she saw what looked like a ghostly student chasing the errant spirit right through the wall, swinging a quarter staff at him.

"Er, I hope Peeves didn't kill him. Or something," she muttered to herself. Wasn't that the new fifth year Gryffindor? She smiled to herself. She could ask Harry, couldn't she? That would give her a good excuse to talk to Harry!

Cries from the girls' dorm, then the boys' dorm, of 'Peeves!' could be heard drifting from the closing portal. She could hear a distinct 'Sorry!' interspersed by Peeves cackling.

Orel finally cornered peeves downstairs in the dungeons. He lightly smacked the ghost to punctuate important phrases. "You... will never... steal... my things... again! Do... you... understand?"

Peeves started nodding frantically.

"Good. Then we don't have a problem."

"You hurt Peeves!" the ghost whined.

"Pain is a good teacher, isn't it?"

"You're not going to stop Peeves from his pranks, are you?" the poltergeist asked worriedly.

Orel rolled his eyes. "I couldn't care less what you do, normally. Just leave me out of it." He slipped the quarter-staff back into his backpack. "Now, this should be wearing off now. Ah!" Orel smiled for just a second as he rematerializing , until vertigo started to assail him.

"No... not now," he gasped. His legs buckled as he collapsed, his head bashing against the wall as he collapsed. Peeves looked on in astonishment as the student fell over in a twitching pile of thrashing limbs. Blood started to pool from his scratched face.

-

Orel awoke to a world that was spinning. The smells of pungent potions and ointments filled his noise. He noted, dimly, that he seemed to be tied down.

"Well, he doesn't seem to be dead, Professor McGonagall," a snappish voice said.

"Yes, I'd say that the rumors that he'd died and chased Peeves around as a ghost do seem to be a bit exaggerated. How are you this morning, Mr. Maresk?" the professor asked.

"I've felt better." Orel could finally open his eyes and focus on the Gryffindor head of house. "Why am I tied up?"

"You were thrashing very severely. It was necessary to keep you from hurting yourself. Finite Incantium!" she cried out, making the ropes that were tying him up disappear. "What was the cause of this? Some prank? A potion gone bad?"

"No. I'm dying."

"I am sorry? Did you just say, you were dying?" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed with a startled voice.

"It's all right. I've been busy dying for years." Orel managed a grin that looked absolutely ghastly on his pallid features. "I've got a defect in my flesh that is slowly killing me. It causes these fits every few weeks. I'll be better in a few hours."

"You must go to St. Mungo's immediately! I'm sure that-"

"-they have absolutely no idea what do to save me," Orel interrupted quietly. "I already tried that, once I discovered that you had such a prestigious hospital. Just before the start of the year. That's why I took the train with all of the other students. St. Mungo's suggested that Muggle science may know something more, but that they doubted a cure could be had." Orel managed to sit up. "I have some more research to do. Sorry to be a fuss."

"But-" Professor McGonagall exclaimed.

"Sorry, I've a cure to find. And I can't depend on anyone else to find it." Orel spotted his pack and extracted his walking stick. Leaning heavily on it, he started to leave the room.

"So brave," Pomfrey said quietly.

"That is what the Sorting Hat meant, then. Indeed, so brave. I will tell the headmaster immediately. I expect you to try and help too, Poppy."

"Of course, Minervia. I couldn't do any less."

-

"Hey! Orel! Over here!" Ron called out from the table. "Breakfast is almost over. Blimey! Are you alright?"

Harry and Hermione looked up at that. Orel did seem to be leaning on his quarter-staff heavily, his face was scratched, though scabbed over.

"Are you well?" Hermione asked worriedly.

Orel nodded as he sat down and started to fill his plate. "I've been better. Let me grab some food right off." He managed to avoid their questioning eyes for a few minutes as he ate his breakfast.

"What happened?" Harry asked quietly.

"I had one of my fits. I'll be better later."

"Fits?" Hermione asked.

"Look, I'm sick and I sometimes have these fits where I fall down twitching. If you find me, just keep me from hurting myself and I'll be fine later." Orel still wouldn't meet their eyes. "You probably think I'm weak or something pathetic now. But I won't let it win. I will find a cure."

"Right! If you need any help, I'll be more than happy to do some research! Hogwarts has one of the best libraries in the world!"

"Er... sure." Orel looked surprised at that exclamation from Hermione.

"And we'll watch out for you too!" Ron enthused.

-

Orel looked up from his books to see Harry, Hermione and Ron in a tense conversation over in front of the fire of the Gryffindor common room. It had been a long Sunday for those two, as they had a whole week of homework to catch up on. He had given them a few pointers to help outh. "What's up?" he asked as best as possible. Dumbledore's translation spell was beginning to wear down.

"Nothing much. Just my brother the prat, being a prat," Ron said venomously.

Orel just quirked his head in question.

Ron glanced over to Harry, looking for some sort of response. Harry finally nodded, even as the cinnamon haired girl looked on thoughtfully.

"It's about Harry, again. The Daily Prophet has been spreading some very nasty rumors around about him. My brother wrote me to tell me to steer clear of my best friend and to keep my nose clean, like a good little Prefect!" The red-haired boy almost shouted the last bit.

"That same thing Umbridge mention?" Orel asked. "Mentioned?" he corrected himself.

"Yes, the Ministry of Magic doesn't seem to want to believe that You-Know- Who is back," Hermione explained as she paced slowly behind to two boys.

"Say that again?" Orel looked confused.

"Voldemort, self-styled Lord of the Dark Arts," Harry expounded.

"Why did you say, 'You-Know-Who'?"

Hermione blushed. "Saying his name is supposed to let him hear you and what you are saying. Bringing his wrath upon you. It's silly, I know. Dumbledore says it just gives him the power of fear over us."

Orel leaned back in his seat. "Ah. Makes sense, now. Lord Voldemort."

Hermione tried not to flinch. "And that's not even his real name."

"It isn't?"

"No, his real name is Tom Riddle. He's a half-blood that hates Muggles." Harry just shook his head at that.

"But pure-bloods follow him? Odd." The Dalelander rolled up the scroll he was working on and closed his books. "Finished?"

Harry and Ron nodded. "We were just going over it."

Hermione looked slightly worried and then flustered. "I could double check your work. Like always!"

"Would you? I think it's mostly right. I did most of the research Orel told me," Ron explained to Hermione.

A disapproving frown appeared on the bushy-haired girl. "You didn't copy from him, did you?"

Orel just snorted in amusement. Ron shook his head frantically. "No way! He's meaner than you are. All he'd do is just tell us the right book to look into."

Harry stood up and stretched. He sort of slouched while putting his hands in his pockets. Suddenly, his expression changed to surprise. "Hey, Orel! What's so important about this band of yours?" he asked as he pulled out the silvery headband.

"Ah! My Isuriam! I was about to start posting notes!" Orel exclaimed happily. He took it back and immediately slapped it back on.

"It's just a circlet, isn't it?" Hermione asked; puzzled by the strange word he used for it.

Orel thought for a second. "No more than an invisibility cloak is just a cloak."

"Magic then? What does it do?" Harry asked, quite curious.

"It is a distiller... no, enhancer of mind. Of the mind," Orel corrected himself.

Hermione gulped. "It enhances you mind? That's impossible! No such thing exists!"

"You can cast magic and you say things are impossible?" the Dalelander asked incredulously.

"Some things are impossible."

"Like?" he asked.

"Like Apparating within Hogwarts! Blocking the Killing Curse!" the girl genius stated haughtily.

"Freggatio!" Orel snapped out while wiggling his fingers, disappearing before their eyes with a pop. "I'm behind you. Hogwarts is warded specifically against one teleportative spell. And we already know that something can block the Killing Curse. Harry survived it."

Hermione gaped like a fish for a moment. "I still don't believe you."

"Fine. You wear it for a while." He tossed her the circlet suddenly. With that, he threw himself into a chair. He happened to be staring right into the fire when a face appeared within it. "Mystra's Teats!" he cried out, snapping his wand out to point it at the face.

The other three were a bit slower, but still had their wands out in a flash. "Sirius!" Harry exclaimed happily, as he put his wand back into his pocket.

"Sirius? As in Sirius Black?" the Dalelander asked stupidly. He was mentally slapping himself for sounding so idiotic.

"Yes. I assume you trust him, Harry?" the face from the billowing fire asked.

"Er, yes." Harry suddenly realized he didn't really know how well he really knew Orel.

"He already has one of my secrets. I think I can be trusted with one of his," the foreigner said with an overly casual drawl.

"Interesting. Well, then. Harry, you wrote to me about your scar?" Sirius asked.

"You wrote him? Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione asked.

"I forget!" Harry replied.

Sirius and Harry went over what had happened in Umbridge's detention, determining to the best of Sirius's knowledge that no, Umbridge really was not a Death Eater. The fact that she hated part-humans was quite surprising, when it was revealed. Orel played with the tips of his ears just a bit. He had always suspected that he had a bit of Elven blood in him, but not even enough to earn him the epitaph of 'half-elf.'

They were all astonished to discover that Umbridge was only following Fudge's orders to make sure that Harry and his classmates weren't trained in combat. Orel's smile became vicious at that. She was a fool if she thought that she was going to stop him from learning combat magics.

He listened for a moment as the tensions between Harry and this Sirius became greater. It seemed they were close, somehow. But his mind was turning to other things.

"Orel?" Ron said as he poked him in the shoulder.

The smaller boy shook his head. "Yes?"

"What's this secret you shared with Harry?" It was obvious that the redhead was terribly curious.

Orel looked between Hermione and Ron, both showing their curiosity. He sighed. "I'm not supposed to say. But you'll probably nag me until you learn." He spoke over their objections, "From the lands I come from, they don't have wands like you do. They do what you term wandless magic all the time. It's not easy. A focal wand is amazingly simpler and more powerful. But I can cast magic without it. Like the dimension door I cast earlier."

Hermione suddenly gaped as she remembered that scene more closely. "You didn't use a wand then, did you?" She suddenly reached into her pocket and pulled out the headband. She tied it onto her head. She felt something change within her. She pulled out her notes and read for a moment as the rest watched her curiously. "It works! I... I can't believe it! How?"

"Spells to enhance warriors and wizards are very common where I come from. Wizards from my world make more than swords and armor; they make belts that can make a strong warrior stronger than weak giants, gloves that make rogues incredibly dexterous. And headbands that enhance the intellect and spells a bit. But they only enhance what is already there. If someone was too dumb to cast spells before wearing it, they can't suddenly learn how to after putting it on."

"Wicked! Orel, you have to let me use it for my OWLs!" Ron exclaimed happily.

Hermione interrupted Orel crossly with, "Ron! Don't you know that cheating on an exam can get you expelled? You are supposed to setting an example as a Prefect! Not cheating!"

Orel blinked. "It's considered cheating?" What an odd thought.

Hermione opened her mouth while she thought for a moment then snapped it close. She scrunched her eyebrows in deeper cogitation. "I'm pretty sure that it is. The only reason that Orel isn't in trouble already is that no one realizes he has his headband." With that, she stood up. "Well, I'm off to bed now."

Orel gave her an odd look. "May I have my headband back then?"

Harry just started laughing at Hermione's blushing face. The girl had the presence to look abashed as she handed it over.

-

The next morning started with the startling article in the Wizarding newspaper about the new position that Umbridge had managed to get Fudge to pass into law. The Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three effectively made her into overseer and spy for the Ministry of Magic.

All of the students were quite excited about the news. It seemed things were heating up.

But first, they had to survive potions! Snape was in a particularly bad mood when he arrived. After a moment it became painfully obvious why, as Orel looked over his graded paper. It had managed an acceptable. He happened to note from Harry's paper, he was sitting behind him, that he too had an acceptable score.

Orel smiled sunnily up the professor, much to the teacher's chagrin. The professor seemed to push them even harder.

It wasn't until afternoon, when the Fifth Year Gryffindors trudged up to their Divination class that they actually ran into Umbridge. Trelawney had been handing out her dream guide when Umbridge arrived.

"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney," said Professor Umbridge with her wide smile. "You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?"

Professor Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Professor Umbridge and continued to give out books.

"We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. "Divide into pairs, please, a nd interpret each other's latest night- time visions with the aid of the Oracle."

Orel just grinned as he watched Harry try to listen into the two professors and their conversation. Trelawney suddenly bustled over to him. "Mr. Orel, have you given any further thoughts about letting us learn about the divination magics of your land?"

Orel blinked. "I'm not a divination specialist. As a matter of fact, most of my spells are really suited to pure combat."

Umbridge seemed to glower at that. "And what does a young man like yourself need with combat magic?" She huffed to herself in vexation.

"I am an adventuring wizard, living by my wits and power. Undead and bandits rule the untamed wilderness of my world. But there lies true power and secrets, hidden it dungeon and ruin." Orel gave her a haughty look.

The toad-like professor seemed to take umbrage at that. In a sickly-sweet voice, she asked, "Well, why don't you show us you most powerful divination spell?"

The class blinked, feeling the ways of distaste that flew between them.

Orel smiled widely. "Of course, professor. You don't mind, do you Professor Trelawney?"

The divination's professor just nodded mutely. She looked up at Neville. "You, why don't you come stand over here, away from that window?"

Neville blinked and then followed her orders. That had been odd and abrupt. "Yes, ma'am."

In a voice that only Longbottom could hear, she muttered in a very spaced out voice. "I would not wish to see you struck by lightning."

Neville looked scared, but glanced out the window. There wasn't a storm brewing! What did she mean?

Orel set up a folding silver mirror near the window. It was two feet by four feet and compressed to a heavy package that slid easily into the marvelous backpack of his. As Harry watched carefully, he noted that Orel only seemed to use his wand to cast a spell, but actually cast it with his free right hand. His chanting seemed to last forever.

After five minutes, the class began to stir. Where was the magic? After twenty minutes, they were bored and chatting among themselves, while the two professors started to have a heated discussion.

"Orel Maresk, are you finished yet?" Professor Umbridge asked too sweetly.

The young wizard totally ignored her. The professor reached out to shake him from his chanting and gesticulating.

But her hand was stopped by Harry Potter's own. "He's still casting the spell you asked," he said simply.

"He's right! Orel hasn't even missed a single chant!" Ron exclaimed. What was he doing?

The rest of the class muttered. They'd never heard of a spell that took so long! Umbridge just smiled congenially to the class. "Very well, we will let him cast his... spell."

Finally, at the hour mark, Orel finished his spell. Shimmering light sprang from him and into the silver mirror, whose surface turned black and then showed a candle lit room. He put away his wand

Orel's brows were still furrowed in concentration, even as he pulled out a water skin and took a swig. Chanting for over an hour really didn't do wonders for your voice. He smacked his lips. "There! A scrying spell that is showing you a friend of mine! Her name is Chathy...?" He suddenly looked closer at the slightly odd-looking girl sitting next to a lordly man. She was bedecked in a soft white gown with..."...ribbons?"

The young Dalelander's face suddenly went white in shock. Even as the whole room watched, the lord in the mirror become aware of them as they watched, Orel seemed to explode into action. "Srithing Atzsssoriam!" he screamed even as his hands plucked a couple of items from under his robes while his fingers danced.

From his hands smote a mighty lightning bolt, shattering the mirror into molten shards to the screams of the children and teachers. The window behind the mirror shattered outwards into the clear and bright day.

"How dare she? How could she?" the distraught boy screamed in anger, his fists were shaking wildly. His eyes took on a frantic, haunted look, even as he threw himself from the shattered window.

"Umadius Tol Nadeath Kormin Duma!" he screamed, even as his form bulged and flowed in the falling air. In the space of almost a single instance, gone was the boy and in its place fell a reptilian, winged monster. With a scream and a roar, it pulled up from the jagged edges of the castle walls below it. He almost didn't make it, but luckily only clipped his forepaw.

The small, black dragon roared in pain and rage as it swooped across the inner courtyard. Screams could be heard from within the castle and from a class of first years on their brooms on the green.

A moan of pain brought Harry back to the shatter classroom. He moved over to Lavender. It looked like a sliver of silver had landed on her and burned through her robes. He tried to flick it off, but only burned his hand. The Boy-Who-Lived hissed at the pain.

"Crikey!" Ron muttered, shocked and impressed all at the same time and focused on the flying creature. Other students just nodded in shock.

"Mr. Potter? What are you doing?" the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts asked. "Release that girl at once!"

Harry pulled out his wand, ignoring the teacher and then banished the metal, causing the smoldering chunk of silver to fly off of her. "Are you all right?"

"It hurts!" Lavender cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Harry, taker her down to the infirmary," Professor Trelawney order.

Harry was so surprised at her acting like a proper teacher he followed her orders instantly. As they walked down the halls, Harry tried to think about what had just happened. He unconsciously patted his distraught house-mate as they walked. "Ribbons? Why did he mention ribbons?" Harry muttered to himself.

Lavender sniffed, but seemed to try and thing about it. "Maybe he fancied her?"

He thought that was a totally stupid idea at first and just about blurted that out when he stopped and thought about it for a second. "You... might be right."

-

The boy-turned-dragon crashed through the trees to land deep within the forest with a mighty crash. The shockingly loud roar it bellowed blew some of the leaves off the tree he was facing. Reptilian eyes stared as the head snapped around like a snake would.

A pixie took off in a frightful flight, screaming. The dragon roared and tried to pursue. The urge to destroy and terrify was overwhelming, but in the end... just hollow. After chasing, anything that moved for only eight minutes, his spell finally collapsed in on itself.

All that was left was a young boy, holding his broken arm and scratched face. His face was blank for a long moment. He tried and tried to avoid remembering that he was just Orel. Silly, small cursed Orel. Sobs overtook him, even as stabbing pain seemed to suck him into shock from his arm.

"Why, Chathy? Why didn't you try to find me?" he cried out between clenched teeth.

She looked so happy.

Something you couldn't have done for her.

Radiant, even with her draconic features emerging. They made her exotic. Something that would make her even more famous as a Minstrel.

And you are just a pathetic, evil little wizard. You're only useful because people like you to blow things up.

She looked so happy.

You don't deserve to be happy.

Rubbing the tears from his eyes, he stood up on his swaying feet. It was obvious that she must have made her choice. It was probably for the better.

He wouldn't be distracted, let anything stand in his way. With terrible determination, he stood up and pulled out his wand with his unhurt hand. He must have left his backpack in the class. His searching eyes soon found what he was wanting, a clue to lead him from these dark woods.

He started walking.

-

"Mr. Maresk, what were you thinking?" Professor McGonagall asked with her trademarked scathing tones.

Orel looked at her calmly. His expression seemed to say nothing of his sad condition. "I was not thinking. I reacted in a blind rage."

Minerva narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "And you have purged this anger from you?"

He nodded curtly.

The rest of the students standing inside the main doors looked upset that they wouldn't be seeing a dragon again. Harry, Hermione and Ron were off to one side, watching concernedly.

"Off to the Infirmary with you. I will discuss your detention with the headmaster."

He just nodded in reply. He started to push his way through the crowd. This was not a difficult feat, as people shrank back away from him.

A younger girl whispered to her friend. "I heard he's a dark wizard." Her friend just shushed her, almost in a panic.

Orel turned towards them. "Who told you that?" he asked in a calm voice.

They look terrified.

"Whoever they were, they made an accurate guess." He almost finished without flinching, but the pain of his broken arm was too much. He bared his teeth and hissed, almost collapsing from the pain.

"Lean on me," Harry said suddenly. He looked quite worried as he slipped his arm under Orel.

-

"So, Mr. Maresk, would you like to explain what happened yesterday?" Professor Dumbledore said with his normal and cheerful manner.

"I would out that my girlfriend was getting married. And got upset." The curtains around his bed were drawn close.

"Ah, young love. It can be quite a painful thing. I am sorry that you found out in such a painful way." The headmaster sighed. "On to other matter, young man. Due to your actions yesterday, there is going to be an inquiry into your status as an Animagus."

Orel just looked at him, confusion evident on his face.

"Your turning into a dragon, of an unknown variety no less, has necessitated this. There will be an inquiry and you will have to be registered with your form."

The student thought for a moment. "I take it an Animagus can only shift into one form?"

"At will. Quite remarkable, really. Professor McGonagall is an Animagus and teaches student who wish to attempt that course." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Ah, then I don't qualify. My spell is just that. A spell. It allows me to assume a varied amount of form down to the size of a very small creature. It is not long in duration, either. To register my 'form' would be an exercise in futility." Orel had a nasty smile on his lips.

"Wondrous indeed! Such a smashing spell. Perhaps in the future, you would share some insights into the changes these forms allow you to experience." The headmaster stood up with hop from the chair he had conjured. "You'll have to display this to the Aurors, of course. Do you need anything to prepare for this?"

Orel glanced at the headmaster in surprise that he tried to conceal. "Just my books, please. I have the rest already."

-

The next day, Orel walked back into the Gryffindor common room.

Neville looked up from where he was reading a book and paled slightly. "Er, hello Orel. How are you?"

"I've had better days, actually. Sorry about that scare, the other day. I... lost control." Orel flumped into a cushy chair while pulling out a bit of homework to read.

The pudgy boy gave him a quick, sideways glance. "I'm not the one that you need to apologize to."

The Dalelander looked up, confused. "Excuse me?"

"You hurt Lavender with that little stunt of yours, you know."

"I didn't know." His mouth turned down in a small, sad frown. He stood up and looked around for the girl. As soon as he spotted her, he walked over.

"Um, Lavender?" He waited until she looked up. "I really didn't mean to hurt anyone there. I was just so... angry. I have a bit of a temper at times."

"Thank you, Orel. I couldn't hold it against you. Especially after we figured out that you must have fancied her. And it looks like she fell for that fellow she was with."

A pained expression crossed his face. "Ah, thanks." He took a step back suddenly. "I'm tired suddenly. I'll see you guys later."

-

Up Next: Hogsmeade Weekend!