Chapter 6

Hello all. Thank you for your reviews. They are most helpful.

ChunkyFunkyMunky: I understand, and I'll make sure not to have him reveal all of himself, especially to the students. But in my mind, I think Gandalf would spend some time with the students in each House regaling them with tales of Middle Earth. Also, Gandalf is usually more of a "tell everyone all the details so that they know and understand what's happening as much as they can". This, I think, will be a nice foil to Dumbledore, who is more of a "tell only certain people certain parts of certain truths, so that they play the game how I want them to, thus ensuring our victory, with as few losses as can be had". I like both sides and characters, and think they each have merit.

WOLOLOLOLOLOLO: I imagine so too.

winterwolf23543: I do agree that the paragraphs might be a bit long in some places. I'll try to fix that.

Diamond of soul: Thank you.

Thranduil's wife: Thank you. I will definitely finish it.

Lemuel: While you're correct, I don't know when I mean to.

Bluzerker: Thank you. You don't know quite how much that means to me.

It was still rather dark when Gandalf rose, early as ever, the foreign sun barely peeping over the forest.

"Lumos maxima," he said, pointing his wand at a part of the roof, illuminating the room. It was still a little strange to Gandalf, being able to simply say a word and cast a spell. It was almost comically simple. Of course, what was called magic here, and what was considered magic by Hobbits and Man in Arda, was different in many ways, and he was still getting accustomed to it.

He checked his schedule, seeing he had a class at the middle and end of the day. This was convenient, as he had only a little more research to do, and looked forward to teaching some more. A frown formed at the thought of research, and he recalled events from last night. He had avoided running into any students yesterday who might have had questions to ask, and had instead met a rather insightful creature, and gained very useful, though terribly disturbing information.

He had hurried to the library last night, determined, still seeking answers. A spell existed that allowed two people to exist in some manner in the same spot, that much he knew. The time he spent giving Harry, Ron and Hermione detention had all but confirmed that. What that spell was remained the only question, one he was having a rather ridiculous amount of time answering! It seemed, however, that no such spell existed! He asked the librarian if she knew, but she told him that she knew of no book that contained such knowledge, and she knew every page of every book, a line he'd heard too many times. Disappointed, and more than a little sceptical, Gandalf returned to his personal studies, learning many things in the process, except what he wished to learn.

Hours passed, the night waxed, and Gandalf the Grey had cleared an entire shelf. He slammed the last book shut, and wearily set about returning the books, forgoing the use of a wand. He sighed as he placed the last one in its spot, and returned to his table. Nothing. He knew he had to be patient. His own extensive history had taught him that he would undoubtedly find the answers, even if it would take time. But the worlds history, his own at least, also told him that a creature such as Voldemort would be on the move, and there was little doubt in his mind, having heard what Hagrid told him, that this spell on Harry was in some way connected to Voldemort, and to the spell that was cast when his parents were slain. There was no doubt that Harry was in grave danger. And in Gandalf's mind, there were few greater crimes than harming children. Voldemort has been pressing against Hogwarts for the past few years now, and Gandalf felt he needed to prepare for his next arrival swiftly.

Gandalf sighed, lowering his head into his hands. But it was at that moment a thought occurred to him. It was a desperate thought, but he would rather do it now than later. He rose, and hurried out of the maze of books. He made his way to a statue of a gargoyle.

"Lemon drops," he whispered. The statue moved aside, and Gandalf went up a flight of stairs, and went into a large office, filled with books. Gandalf eyed them, curious. He swiftly made his way up another flight of stairs, and moved over to the window, and, leaning his staff on the wall, looked out the window, grasping on to the windowsill. He sighed. Then, closing his eyes, he cast out his mind, searching for the mind of Dumbledore. It took him only a few minutes before he did.

He enveloped the mind, not entering it yet, but pressing at the walls of it, gently. The mind opened up, confused, and Gandalf entered.

"Gandalf?" came the confused mind-voice of Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore, yes, it is me," thought Gandalf quickly. "Please, I only need a moment of your time. I need to ask a question, perhaps two."

"Very well, what is it?" Dumbledore's voice seemed strained, and though Gandalf did not pry into his mind, there was an undercurrent of concern, and he could guess Dumbledore was under some sort of pressure. However, if he was permitting questions, then Gandalf would ask.

"I must ask, do you know of any spell which can cause a person to be in the same place as another?"

There was silence, before Dumbledore answered, "I can't tell you right now, Gandalf. But when I return, which should be soon, I'll explain it all to you. Now please, I am very busy, and in a bit of a troublesome spot. Nothing I can't handle, don't worry, but it does require my focus."

"Of course. Very well," answered Gandalf, and left his mind. He opened his eyes. He sighed, not fully content with how things had gone, but glad that he was finally getting somewhere. He took his staff, but paused, before deciding to pull a seat to the window, and smoke a bit, while thinking.

A half hour passed, while Gandalf stared at the foreign, starry sky, pondering what he would teach the next day. If he were correct, he would be teaching a class of fifth years and a class of seventh years. As he stood up to leave, a large red bird flew up to him, perching itself on the windowsill. A phoenix, Gandalf realised.

"Ah, hello," he greeted the phoenix. "I remember reading about you. You have a most interesting cycle, my friend. Dying in a burst of fire, only to be reborn. Most unusual. You don't happen to know what it is I search, do you?" There came a trill. Gandalf raised his eyebrows. "Well then, by all means, tell." Another squawk, but this was in defiance. "Why not?" The phoenix squawked again. Gandalf sighed. "Could you tell me something?" The bird trilled twice more, and Gandalf's eyes widened in shock. "Are you certain?" The phoenix nodded. "Thank you, my friend. You have been most helpful. Can I ask your name?" The phoenix answered. "Thank you, Fawkes. You have been most helpful." With that, Gandalf returned the chair to its position, took a lemon drop, and returned to his chambers, his face grim, and his mind worried. Now, he knew what else to search for.

Gandalf closed his book, sending a plume of dust into the air. He waved it aside, and leant on his elbows, deep in thought. This book, which he recovered from the Restricted Area of the library, had given him the answers to one of his questions, one he had put off. The phoenix spoke truthfully. It explained the darkness he felt around the child Draco. It was simple, all things considered – a tattoo that burnt once activated – but dark nonetheless. Now, all he needed was proof.

But proof can wait, Gandalf thought, as proof would be a more difficult thing to find. Now, for breakfast.

Gandalf waved his wand, and returned the book to its original place, attempting to get used to doing things in such a simple manner. He then made his way to the still somewhat empty Great Hall, ignoring the curious looks he got from many of the tables. The Slytherin table was looking at him in a particularly foul way; many looked at him with hatred in their eyes, but fear was in their hearts. He frowned at that. He would have to remedy that. He did not wish for the students to fear him. Tonight, perhaps.

Sitting down, he muttered a meal. He looked towards Dumbledore's seat, finding it empty once more. He wondered where he may be. There might be some sort of a chance that it had to do with whatever it was that Gandalf was investigating, because of how he had acted when Gandalf had asked. However, he would have to wait for Dumbledore's return to Hogwarts before he could know for certain.

The matter of what Fawkes had told him was another matter entirely. A child, joining the forces of evil. He would have very stern words with his parents when he gets the opportunity, and Dumbledore, if Dumbledore knows.

As he was thinking and eating, a diminutive professor came over to him.

"Excuse me, Professor Gandalf," he said, calling Gandalf out of his deep thought.

"Hm, yes?" said Gandalf, turning his to look at him.

"I'm professor Flitwick. I teach Charms," he said as way of introduction. "And I was just wondering, because I've heard all sorts of strange and bizarre things in my time here at Hogwarts, but, umm, may I ask why some of the children are going around saying you're from another world?"

"Are they now? Hm," Gandalf muttered quietly, before speaking to the diminutive professor. "Word spreads very quickly. Tell me, is that all they speak of? Or is there more? And do you know which grades?"

"Oh, well, there is more," said the minute professor, "far more uncouth words, particularly from the Slytherin house. I have had to deduct a great number of points. But also, from Gryffindor, though there's no surprise there. And, uh, I think it's mostly the sixth years and seventh years, but there may also have been some of the lower years." Gandalf chuckled slightly.

"Is that so? Most interesting," answered Gandalf. "Well, the children speak well, if they say that I am from another world. If they say otherwise, that is to be expected. I have given little evidence for them. Fear not, you shall know before the end. I shall tell you, just not now. Perhaps when Dumbledore returns."

Professor Flitwick left, more confused than before. At that moment, Professor Snape arrived, looking as dour as ever. He sat beside Gandalf.

"Ah, good morning," said Gandalf, cheerful. Severus did not answer him. Gandalf frowned, and guessed the cause. He sighed. "I take it you are unhappy because I removed a few points from your house yesterday."

Severus did not answer, but his lips thinned. Gandalf sighed inwardly.

"Severus, I hope you understand I do not want to punish the students," Gandalf explained, leaning towards Snape. "And perhaps my display of anger was a bit much. But the child Draco was not paying attention, and the rest of the house was not much help."

Snape's lips thinned slightly more at the mention of Draco. "I shall have a talk with him, then," he said at last. Gandalf guessed this was a slightly more common problem than he thought.

"Thank you," Gandalf answered. "And, if you want to know, and it helps in any way, I have found out that I am in the House of Slytherin." That gave Severus pause. He turned to Gandalf.

"Really?" he asked, stretching the word out.

"Indeed," answered Gandalf, nodding. "I have the scarf to prove it. Have you a class to attend?"

"Not until the third period," said Severus, shaking his head.

"Well, then perhaps I could invite you to join me in my room, and we can smoke and chat," said Gandalf. "Sometimes you need to rest from your duties. I have a most wonderful view of the Forest."

Severus frowned. A break from work would be nice, and the plots of Dumbledore and Voldemort. And yet…

"Perhaps some other time, Gandalf," he declined, honestly. "I still have some work I need to prepare."

Gandalf frowned. "Very well then, if you insist," he said. He then realized he not drunk anything yet, so conjured up some coffee.

Severus ate and left soon afterwards, leaving Gandalf to his thoughts, and finished his food. They were soon interrupted by Minerva, who seemed decidedly confused.

"Professor Gandalf," she began, a strangely worried edge to her voice, faint though it may be, "can you tell exactly why the students have been whispering all morning and last night about you, telling ridiculous tales of you being from another world?"

Gandalf sighed. This was becoming a most irritating habit. When Dumbledore returns, and he had explained to him the answer to his mystery, he must bid him call a council of all the teachers.

"Professor McGonagall, when Dumbledore returns from his errands, I shall bid him call a council, and then I shall explain to all the teachers the truth. Until then, pray keep your concerns to yourself."

Minerva was not so easily deterred, though. "Professor Gandalf, this is one of the greatest schools of magic in the wizarding world. The students you are teaching have gone through numerous tragedies in these past few years, and I do not want another distraction, and I especially do not wish for any more tragedy. With that in mind, I insist you tell me what the students mean at once," she demanded.

Gandalf sighed, weary. He understood perfectly why she was mistrustful. But if he were going to explain his nature to the teachers, it would be best to provide evidence of his claims when Dumbledore returns and calls a meeting. "Very well. I hope you understand that it would be best to explain everything to all the teachers once Dumbledore returns, but if you wish. Yes, I am indeed from another world, and I have somehow been sent hither for reasons that are only recently becoming a little clearer to me."

"And what exactly are these reasons?"

"It would seem," said Gandalf, his words measured, "that I here to help you in your struggle with Voldemort. How exactly I am to help you, I cannot yet say, but I promise you, I am not here to bring these students to harm."

McGonagall was silent then, but content. She nodded once, and returned to her seat. Gandalf finished his coffee, and left for the DADA classroom, wanting to make sure everything was in place.

He stopped by his room, and levitated the necessary books, and swiftly made his way to the DADA room. Hurrying slightly, he arrived at his classroom, and spent a few minutes making certain every table had a book.

Once he completed his task, he decided to visit the Forbidden Forest. He thought perhaps to meet with the Centaurs, and to learn their language. There was a Centaur in Hogwarts who served as a teacher. He had seen him about a few times, but had never talked to him.

But there were other things that weighed on his mind, chief of which were the giant spiders. Now that he had in part what he wished to know, and would learn soon all he wished to know, he could turn his mind to lesser matters, with giant spiders in the forest no doubt capable of great terrors in Voldemort's favour, especially given their proximity to Hogwarts.

But, of course, it would not do to simply dash in and threaten or kill every spider bigger than a garden tarantula. He reminded himself that he was a stranger to this world, and he knew yet still very little. Better to read on it first.

So, putting off going to the forest entirely, he visited again the great lake. He was greatly intrigued by the giant squid, and it seemed friendly enough. It seemed a creature the Vala Ulmo would've loved. Reaching edge of the lake, he smiled, and sat down. He pulled out his pipe, and started smoking for a while, puffing out rings of varying colours, all coming together to create a massive ring over the lake. He started a conversation with a swallow.

He was explaining ideas of some final touches to the exercises he had planned, when he heard Hagrid come up behind him. Eager to speak with the half-giant, he turned to greet him, leaving the swallow to fly off.

"Ah, Hagrid, my dear friend," he said in greeting. "How do you fair?"

"Hey Gandalf," greeted the games-keeper and teacher. "Ahm doin' good, thanks." There was a slight edge to his voice that indicated he wasn't being entirely honest, Gandalf noted.

"Good, good," Gandalf murmured. "Come, please, sit. I'm afraid I left my other pipe in my room. So, have you done what I told you to do?" Gandalf looked at him from the corner of his eye, seeing a slight change in his friend's expression.

"Nah, not yet," he said. "Ah'll do it over the weekend, 'onest," he added quickly, as Gandalf turned his head sharply. Gandalf muttered to himself quietly, turning back to face the lake.

Gandalf inhaled some smoke, then with a complex series of motions, blew out a small bird, which fluttered away, over the lake.

"Well, what brings you here, my friend?" asked the old wizard.

"I've got a class next period, and I thought I'd spend some time 'ere with ya. Figured you might be 'ere."

"Indeed? Well then, by all means, let us talk," said Gandalf. "I have yet to learn of many of the creatures here. I have heard that there are giant spiders nearby. What can you tell me about them?"

Hagrid turned and looked at him oddly. He obliged, nonetheless. "Well, Acromantula ah mostly 'armless, unless ya go trespassin'." He went on for a little while, talking about a little accident a few years back when Harry and Ron had gone to see them in order to investigate a mysterious case of petrification's. As he listened, concern grew in Gandalf. Massive spiders, regardless of their origin, could be used to devastating effect by Voldemort, especially given their nature and, once again, their proximity. Whoever thought it was a good idea to have a school right next to a forest full of deadly creatures, in any case?

"D'you have giant spiders in, ah, Middle-Earth?" asked Hagrid at the end of his tale.

"Yes, but of a far more vicious kind," said Gandalf. "They are offspring of an ancient evil, known as Ungoliant. They infest the woods of Greenwood, and the Elves there fight ever to keep them at bay. They have done well, so far."

But Hagrid turned at the mention of Elves.

"Elves? You've got Elves there?" he asked.

Gandalf nodded. "Yes, but quite unlike the ones here."

"What're they like, then?" asked Hagrid, his curiosity peaked.

Gandalf smiled. "They are an ancient people. They are immortal, firstborn, and most gifted of all the Children of Ilúvatar. Fairest they are, also, and the fairest amongst them are those that lived first in the Blessed Land, and saw the light of the Two Trees." There was a wistful tinge to his voice, and as he gazed at the lake, it seemed as though he was staring at some far-off place. He spoke of Rivendell, and of Lothlorien and Greenwood. Hagrid understood very little of what Gandalf said, and promised to ask him on a later date.

Gandalf was coming near to the end of his tale when the bell rung, interrupting him.

Hagrid leapt up, shocked. "Blimey, I've lost track of time." He bid Gandalf farewell, and rushed to the Forest. Gandalf smiled, and bid him farewell.

Gandalf spent the rest of the period smoking, and talking to the local birds. They had a fair deal to tell him, and told him much about the spiders, which troubled him deeply. It seemed that, unbeknownst to Dumbledore, and even Hagrid, a person had appeared in the darkest parts of the Forbidden Forest. They appeared many times, and talked with the leader of the giant spiders, a foul creature named Aragog. According to the birds, Aragog was growing frail, and would likely die before the end of the year. The birds seemed particularly cheerful at that thought, and Gandalf shared their sentiment.

When the birds ran out of things to talk about, they stayed with him for a little while longer, then flew off. At their leaving, Gandalf decided it would be best for him to head off too. Snack time had nearly passed.

He headed towards his class, passing McGonagall on the way, and decided that, once he got an opportunity, to ask for her tutelage on the specific branch of magic that she taught. The confrontation with McGonagall and Flitwick reminded him that there were other forms of magic that he would be glad to learn. Transfiguration in particular seemed appealing, and he would be most likely familiar with rune work. Divination, however, seemed to be a particularly confusing and troublesome subject, if the groans and complaints he had heard from a not insignificant number of students were anything to go by.

As he made his way through the castle halls, he was given many strange looks by the houses. He paid them little heed, continuing on his way to the library. As he did, he many of the students, most particularly the older ones, complain about many things, particularly regarding some sort of "owl" and "newt" test. This must be one of their upcoming tests with ridiculous names. Gandalf sent forth the power of Narya, giving the students courage, and it seemed to all the students that a sudden flame grew in their hearts, and their worries left for a time, or lessened at least. This did nothing about the odd looks Gandalf received. That was something he would endeavour to change, sooner rather than later.

Yes, I think most certainly tonight, mused Gandalf.

But as Gandalf reached the doors of the classroom, he was stopped.

"Professor Gandalf," a familiar voice called out to him. He turned around to see Luna walking towards him. She wore strange glasses of preposterous size.

"Yes, dear Luna," said Gandalf. "How might I help you?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Could you tell me a story sometime? Of your world?"

Gandalf frowned, thoughtful.

"I most certainly could, yes," he said. "Tell me, when are the common rooms most full, particularly after all the classes have ended, and dinner has been had?"

Luna thought about this for a moment. "Well, for the Ravenclaw house, at about eight p.m." she said, nodding her head. "That's when everyone's resting, or studying."

"Thank you, Luna," Gandalf said. "If you can be patient for until tomorrow night, or at most, the night afterwards, you will have your story."

Luna beamed. "Okay," she said, cheerfully as ever. She turned and left for her class.

Gandalf entered the room the moment the bell rang. There were a few students there, and they sat upright, quite suddenly. He noticed, rather amused, that they looked at him nervously.

"Ahh, good morning," he said. "Two points to each of your houses for not being late." The students began to smile, but Gandalf spoke again. "But a point removed for being early. A wizard or witch should never be late, but they should never be early, either. Instead, they should arrive precisely when they mean to."

A hand raised, tentatively. Gandalf motioned to him.

"Um, I meant to arrive early," he said.

"Well, then, I return your point to you," said Gandalf. "But in future, unless you have pressing business that requires you arrive early, you should aim to arrive when the bell rings."

It was at that moment that the rest of the students hurried in. They saw that they were later than the teacher. And they saw that they were later than the new teacher, which was made more concerning, considering the stories they had heard about him.

"Two points from each of your houses for tardiness," said Gandalf, as soon as they all sat down, eliciting multiple outbursts. They died down very quickly.

"Now then, a good day to you all," he said, cheery. "As I suspect you know already, I am your new professor, for the year at least. I will not permit any questions regarding any stories you have heard until the end of the class, at which point you may ask any story you wish. I understand you have all had strange, confusing, and in some instances, terrifying experiences with your teachers, so I quite understand your concerns. The tales you would have heard will not have helped much. However, I ask you save your questions till the end.

"Now, I am to teach you the basics of Defence against the Dark Arts, and some theory. For the first semester, we shall cover the basic principles and theory of occlumency and legilemency. As we near the end of each term, you shall have opportunities to try and enter your partners mind, and to resist their attempts.

"I warn you, though, not to attempt legilemency without my permission. To invade another's mind is the highest grounds of intrusion, and if I find that any of you have done so, you will find yourself in detention for the better part of the year, and the loss of hundreds of points. If you continue, you will be expelled." Gandalf's eyes had grown dark, and his voice stern. "This will be the first and last warning I give you. Do you understand?"

The children in the class nodded silently. The silence lingered for a moment, as Gandalf looked over each student. Then his eyes lightened, and the silence passed.

"Excellent," he cheered. "Now, I would like you to open your book to page 65."

The class went well, and by the end the students had come to realise that Professor Gandalf was eager to answer their questions. And although the work they were doing was purely theoretical, Gandalf proved to be an interactive and excited teacher. He was knowledgeable, like Professor Snape, but much less strict and cruel. He had an air of Professor Moody about him, like he knew what he taught, unlike a certain Professor Lockhart, but he did not seem threatening. Or stupid and arrogant. Like Lockhart.

And of course, he answered questions and interacted with the students; he taught them, and went to lengths to ensure they understood what they were being taught, and overall cared for the students, quite unlike Umbridge, whom everyone had agreed never counted as a professor, and was a tyrant at best.

He was, they felt, quite similar to Professor Lupin, in that he was the best teacher they've had. The only worthwhile teacher they had, save Moody, though he was secretly a Death Eater, and not very nice.

At the end, they asked Gandalf if he was from another world, and when he said yes, they proceeded to ask him about this world of his. He spoke eagerly, telling them about the Eldar; he spoke of Rivendell and of Lothlorien, and told them of Greenwood. When the bell rang, he promised to tell them more of Middle-Earth the next time they have a class, and that they will do more practical classes every now and then.

His class finished, he went to the library, though he stopped by the Great Hall for a sandwich. Gandalf spent lunch reading up on transfiguration, it's basics and theory, though he did not try any spells yet. It was an interesting topic, one he knew Saruman would greatly enjoy, for it dealt with shaping objects to one's desire. From animals to cups, and cups to animals, to entire buildings, if one was skilled and knowledgeable enough. Radagast would enjoy it also, he suspected. Aulë and Yavanna would likely have found it to be an amusing branch of magic, albeit certainly useful at times, and perhaps quicker.

He shuddered at the thought of Sauron using it. If the Enemy had such skills and powers, he would likely have been victorious in that final battle.

Gandalf put the book back on the shelf, and left a few minutes before the bell rang to go to his class. The year seven students, if he was correct. He had prepared some rather advanced classes, by the standards of Hogwarts.

Upon reaching the rather large room, he went to the desk and pulled out a book. It was the same one as the other classes. He would make certain that all his students were proficient enough in occlumency, as it was called, to resist at least each other. He would teach them also how to use legilemency, though he would make certain they knew not to use it over much, and outside of classroom.

A moment later, and the class filed in. The bell rang a second later. They sat down, whispering to each other. Most were, of course, trying to discreetly discuss their new professor, who they had heard the strange rumours of, and were wondering what he was going to say. They were not very discreet.

He smiled as they sat down, a dull murmur still audible. "Welcome, to your first class this year in Defence Against the Dark Arts," he greeted them, his voice booming, echoing on the stone walls. "I understand that to reach this particular level is an accomplishment few can match, one that has been made more difficult by your overall incompetent and downright detrimental teachers, and you require as few distractions from your work as possible." By now, the class had quieted down. "So, I will tell you now that in regard to the rumours, yes, it is true I am from another world. If you want proof, look only to the storm yesterday. That was my doing, and served as proof to some other students. I will answer any questions you have at the end of the class. For now, I shall talk to you about occlumency and legilemency."

There was a silence, and the students looked to each other, all wondering who was going to speak up first. They had all witnessed or heard of the storm yesterday. It covered the lake and a part of the forest, and it came without warning and left just as quickly. It was a yellowish-haired girl near the front row who brought up the obvious question.

"But, sir… that's impossible," she said, uneasily, as Gandalf raised a book. "No witch or wizard can control the weather."

Gandalf frowned. "Quite correct, but you would be better off saying no witch or wizard of this world. For as I have said, I am not of this world."

"But… that would mean that there are other worlds," continued the girl, furrowing her brow. "And do you mean another planet, or another universe entirely? Because they would lead to different questions, depending on which one you mean. And-"

Gandalf chuckled. "You are a most intriguing child. Which house are you in?"

"Uh, Ravenclaw, professor," she answered, somewhat off balance at the change in topic, and Gandalf's sudden mirth.

"Well then, twenty points to Ravenclaw, for asking the right questions," he said, his laughter quieting down. "You will find, in my classes, that asking the right question may sometimes be more important than the answer.

"And the answer to your question, dear child, is the latter. I am from another universe. I had thought, originally, I was simply very, very far ahead in my own universe, but that line of thought has since been disproved."

"But how—"

"Not now, I beg of you," interrupted Gandalf. "Please. We only have so much time today, and I need to get you started on what I have planned."

The student in question closed her mouth, with apparent difficulty. And without further ado, but certainly with many confused looks, Gandalf started his class.

The class went rather well, all things considered. Gandalf explained to the class precisely what they will do this semester, and the consequences should he find them using their powers without his permission and guidance. They soon asked questions readily, once they learned he was willing, and eager, to answer any and all questions they had. As the end of class neared, Gandalf allowed the students to ask him any question they wished, regarding any subject matter they wanted. Of course, the main subject matter ended up being his claim of being from another universe.

"But how do you know that other universes exist?" asked a particular exasperated Ravenclaw student.

"Because I asked," answered Gandalf. "And though my memory is not quite what it once was, I still remember that. And because this world is nothing at all like my own." They had had this discussion for the better part of ten minutes, and Gandalf, although amused and glad that he was able to have a discussion like this – amused because of the students utter exasperation, and glad because he valued curiosity in children –, was beginning to hope the bell would go soon. There was little he could do to prove his claims, especially considering the time restraints, and he did not particularly wish to disclose his nature.

"Who did you ask?"

Gandalf smiled fondly, and as if on cue, the bell went. "I'm afraid that is something you will have to ask another time, my dear student." He grabbed his hat and staff, and left for the door, putting his hat on, and opening the door, disappearing around the corner.

And very nearly bumping into Dumbledore, who grabbed onto his arm, pulling him the other way.

Hello everyone, and thank you for being so patient. I'm sorry I took so long. The fact of the matter is I have little in the way of time management, and I suffer from a not quite fatal, but still irritating, dose of perfectionism, and constant writers block.

I'm terribly sorry if the ending feels sort of rushed. I've been trying to finish this for a while now.

As always, comments, questions, and constructive criticism is welcome.