First off, I would like to give a heartfelt apology to all of you who watched faithfully for this chapter. It's not as long as I like, but I will make that up in the next chapter. Updates may be sparse, but not as long as the last one. I still intend to finish this fanfic. So thank you all once again. If there is any misspelling, it's all mine. Please read and review. All reviews are greatly apperciated.

Madam Promphey was not having a good day. First her sleep was interrupted because a disgruntled fifth year jinxed a sixth year for calling him a 'chick magnet'. Apparently that little incident with the chicken lure spell was still sore. Now the sixth year had feathers sprouting from every orfice in his body, and he just started to molt in the middle of the night. Feathers were flying everywhere, and after trying several spells with little success of removing the confounded things, she finally called an house elf to at least sweep the dratted things away. So when Dumbledore called and told her she would be receiving a visitor, she sarcastically wondered aloud who that might be. Surely not Mr. Potter again? The boy had a nasty knack for getting bruised up in affairs that were none of his business. If he got hurt one more time, she was going to restrain him in the hospital ward for a week. At least he wouldn't have to go far to get medical attention. She huffed to herself and busied the cabinets, making her rounds to check that everything was filled. A few of the beds were messy. A flick with her wand and the covers straightened themselves out, the pillows freshly fluffed and pristine white. The house elf- Wendy was it? had just gotten rid of the last feather and had disappeared with a faint pop.

"Need more Skel-Grow." she muttered to herself. She was halfway through her list when she heard the expected steps of the Headmaster. "Morning Promphey." Albus greeted solemnly. The Headmaster walked in, suprisingly graceful for a man his age, wand out and held high in the air. A stretcher followed him floating in midair. From what Promphey could make out, laying on top of the stretcher was a young man, on the verge of being an adult. With a flick of his wand, the stretcher hovered over to a bed. With another flick, the boy rose and was gently deposited on the mattress. Promphey immediately stepped forward to exclaim him and couldn't help but cast Dumbledore a doubtful glance. Unbelievably blond hair tousled around a delicately chiseled face. Eyelashes swept over closed eyes. Promphey hazarded a green or blue. Obviously a foreigner. His features were too fine compared to the more rough-hewn sculptured British. And his clothes...

She appraised his black leather overalls over a near bare chest, barely covered by a yellow shirt that left the chest exposed. One pant leg was cut off above the knee and the other cut several inches below the kneecap. Silver chains were studded here and there, embellishing the more modern outfit for teenagers. The same sharp cut 'J' was etched in orange on the longer of the two pant leg,
and even was symbolized on a silver pendant looped around his neck. Short black gloves, also leather, clasped his hands, and his feet sported yellow and black shoes. Madam Promphey puled out her wand and waved it over him, checking his vital signs.

"Where did you find him?" she asked Dumbledore, never taking her eyes from his face. "A couple of first year Hupplepuffs were taking an early morning stroll when they chanced on meeting this boy by the lake." stated Dumbledore, alternating between watching Promphey and the blond stranger. Promphey hummed to show she was listening. "It was rather fortunate that I was visting Minerva about midterms today. I doubt I would have been out of my office otherwise." Finally finished, Promphey stuck her wand in her robe. "How is the patient?" Albus asked.

"No sign of fracture, broken bones, or high temperature." Promphey relayed briskly. "His vital signs are healthy and normal. He seems to only be asleep." She studied the sleeping figure. "He's wet. He should be suffering from a low case of hypothermia at the least. Did you cast a warming spell on him?"
"No. I did not."

Promphey hummed again, eyes narrowed, but she didn't say another word on the subject.

Placing her hand on her hips and raising a eyebrow, she asked, "Well, he is hale and healthy, if tired. Shall I wake him up?" It was quiet for a moment, then Dumbledore gave a slight shake of his head. "No. Let him rest for another hour." Promphey nodded, spun on her heel and left. Dumbledore stood watching the small rise and exhale of the strangers chest, silently debating. If he was honest with himself, and he was, this strangers appearance concerned him, almost more then he was willing to admit. They were in a middle of a war that the heads of the country refused to acknowledge even existed or greatly undermined how serious it was. Voldemort's attacks were becoming more erratic, violent, and underhanded then ever. A stranger appearing in the middle of one of the most magically protected places in the world without as much as setting an alarm with Voldemort at large was more then a little disturbing.

In a war, you did things you never thought you would or could do. You did it simply because you had to. Because more then one innocent person, child, mother, father, would get hurt and you had to live with the guilt. Circumstances pushed you into a corner, demanding you learn or suffer the consequences. This man, he was in his school with his students. Innocent young children who's biggest worry should be passing their N.E.W.T. exam. Instead they were left wondering if someone they loved died over the weekend. Even now, though he wasn't proud of doing this, Dumbledore leaned forward and slid an eye open. Intense bright blue stared unfocused, still gripped by unconsciousness. Albus sharpened his mind and dove into the blue.

Tall dark buildings glowing with thousands of lights engulfed him, the metal twisted and turning into unique and strange shapes that he had never encountered. Thousands of buildings encompassing him under a twilight sky. A road made of steel bridged between a giant stadium and a rounded building. A giant T.V. screen was hosted on one of the buildings, easily as big as house. The screen was completely white except a jagged 'J'. All this flashed in a an instance and then gone. The scene ripped from him and something was staring at him. It must have been a bird, but that would have been stretching the world. It had wings. Great big wings feathered in red. It's legs musclar and ended in cruel talons, the red subtly changing to bright blue. The torso was human with a gold chain dangling from a nipple. A savage looking beak curved and tapered at the end, but the beak looked as safe as children's scissors compared to the hard calculating black eyes. Power rolled form the creature in waves. The amount caught Albus further off-guard, but all the creature did was snap it beak in warning with an audio ('snap') and Dumbledore felt himself being pushed. It wasn't enough to actually make him leave, but Albus withdrew completely. Deliberately moving slowly, Albus carefully stepped back to review the bed's occupant with considerable more worry.

Just who was this man?

Promphey had entered the room and was checking another patient. Dumbledore had taken the liberty of sitting in the hospital chair to cotemplate the new arrival. Finished with her handiwork, Promphey drifted over to the boy and pulled out several bottles from a shelf. Folding his fingers together, Albus spoke, "A stranger in our midst is unexpected." Promphey didn't say anything. "Perhaps it would be wise to keep such troubling news to ourselves for the time being." he said.

"Of course Headmaster." Promphey replied briskly, not looking up from her sorting. Picking a blue and dark green bottle she placed it on a nightstand. "A Pepper-up and a Serene Potion." she explained at Albus curious glance. "To clear his head and keep him relaxed. Doubtless he will be stressed to find himself in a new environment after nearly drowning. I'll not have any panicking occurring in my wing." Albus gave a knowing smile, eyes a little lighter.

"...irst have any panicking occurring in my wing." An unreasonable surge of annoyance piqued through his sleepiness. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The world was unfocused, all white. He rolled his head to the side and blinked until his vision cleared. With each blink, double doors blurred and focused. And white. White white white. 'White, whitey, white.' he thought doggedly. Oh for the love of fayth, his head ached. No, not just his head. His whole body ached. It felt like toilet paper was stuffed in his brain. Ugh. Wait. He knew this. The speck-and-span clean, the smell of disinfection, the obsessive-compolsive organization. Just how the hell did he end up in a hospital?

"Ah, your awake." Startled, but moving with care, Tidus turned his head to the direction of the voice. The movement blurred his vision slightly. Blinking, the speaker came into focus. An old man was sitting in a hospital chair that could be found next to all the beds. He was staring calmly at him over half moon spectacles, fingers steepled on his crossed legs. A dark blue robe covered most of his clothing. A long white beard fell to his waist, the color matching his hair on his head. His face was serene, like the surface of a dark lake. Calm on top, but full of twists and mystery underneath the surface. His gray eyes were, like his face, blank, but with a hard edge.

What struck Tidus was the self-assurance that surrounded the man. The same confindence that seasoned warriors achieved. Tidus had seen some of the best fighters in Spira, had fought alongside of some of them. But this man reminded him of one of the best. He reminded him of Auron.

Supressing a grimace, Tidus slowly sat up and rubbed the back of his head, unsure of what to make of the man's flinty stare. "Good morning." the man said quietly. Tidus stared at him for a minute then looked around him. A row of beds stood against the wall, each with a curtain bunched in one corner for privacy. A small table and chair sat next to each bed. All white of course. Cabniets and a counter were on the other side of the room. Windows were set next to the beds. There was a door to the far right that if his consant reappearance in hospitals due to Blitzball injuries were anything to go by, was where the staff resided. Judging from the view from where he was sitting, he judged he was on the second or third floor. Not to far to jump if he had to. He grabbed forhead with one hand. It felt like his head was being squeezed in. The old man continued to watch him, waiting for him to reply, so he did, in the most stright forward way he could with a head that felt like was stuffed with cotton. "Who are you?"

The man blinked, like he was suprised, but that was it. "I am Albus Dumbledore. Headmaster of Hogwarts." Tidus looked blankly at him. "Hogwarts?" he repeated slowly, wondering if his aching head was affecting his hearing. "School of Witchcraft and Wizardly." Dumbledore added. "School?" Tidus looked down, muttering to himself. School. That reminded him of something. A recollection of Bahumuts last conversation came baack to him.

Right.

Bahumat said he was going to be sent near a school. Something about magical concentration, a magical school and stop the dark mage.

Great. Perfectly self-explanatory.

Ugh, he grimaced, it was so hard to think when your head was stuffed up with cotton.

The Headmaster cut in his train of thought, "Your arrival gave a couple of my students quite a fright." Dumbledore said, leaning back. "A bit unnerving to find a drowned man. Hardly a way to start ones day." Tidus was spared an answer when a no-nonsence voice broke in. "Is he awake Albus? You should have told me." The door leading to what he guessed was the nurses lounge opened to reveal a woman with graying hair wrapped in a severe bun. Everything about her screamed doctor. From her starched dress, to her martonly stubborn face. The same kind that will hog tie you and force down several nasty tasting medicine down your throat if thats what it came down to. She glared as she studied him, as if daring him to be ill. Tidus decided to go out on a limb and decide that she was having a bad day. "Well, it's about time. Just how long have you been out cold by the lake?" she asked. Not waiting for an answer, she picked up a blue and green bottle from a table and thrust them in his hands. "Drink these."

She stood back and stared at him to make sure he followed instructions. A bit put off from her pushiness, Tidus glanced at Dumbledore questioningly who in turn was staring at the nurse in something akin to amusement. Tidus rose his eyebrow in question. "The green's a Pepper up, that one will clear your head, the blues a Serene Potion, which will keep you centered." she said, nodding to each bottle in turn. Tidus eyed her. She caught his look. 'You actually think I'm going to drink this?' "Neither is dangerous, I give you my word. I am a Medicwitch." she said steely while crossing her arms, looking personally affronted that he would think she was capable of handing out poison. He was about to hand the bottles back, but his head was really killing him. It was hard to think and the Headmaster's calm stare only made his head ache worse. So anything that could remotely help was something he didn't want to refuse. It'll be okay. He assured himself. I still have Antidotes.

Not really seeing much of a choice, Tidus threw the contents of each potion in his mouth and grimaced at the taste.

Ugh. Disgusting.

The nurse took the empty bottles from his hands as he fought the urge to cough or sneeze or both. But the effects were immiedate. "Whoa," he mouthed softly, touching the holllow of his temple. It was as if someone unplugged his head, and all the clogging was going down the drain. The Medicwitch cracked a smile his reaction, picked up the empty bottles and left.

Tidus was almost sorry to see her go. Not that he particarally liked her, but now he was left with this Albus Dumbledore character. Despite the calm that radiated from the Headmaster, his eyes were two serene lakes. Everything peaceful on the surface, but monsters and unknown creatures writhed underneath it's depths. Just the same kind of calm Auron had right before battle. Right before splitting a hard-shell fiend in half with one slice.

Throwing back the sheet, Tidus swung his feet over the edge to face the Dumbledore. Amazing. Most of his aching had disappered. It was still there, but manageable.

"So," Tidus began before being cut off by the Headmaster. "How did you come to this school?" he asked mildly, fingers steepled. Tidus thought for a moment then looked him stright in the eye. "I'm not so sure." And in a sense, that was true. He knew he somehow crossed worlds through the lake, but he didn't know the specifics, as in the how he managed to cross. Only the fayth knew that. But though he could have told this man the how he came to this world, he wasn't about to go off on a tirade about the fayth. Because frankly, he didn't know a damn thing about this man other then he felt like he kept secrets, more then anyone could really want, and Tidus remembered quite clearly how he was treated when he first arrived in Spira, telling anyone who asked about Zandarkand. Astonishment, disbelief, worry and the worst; small smiles to indulge the disillusional boy who came too close to Sin's toxin.

And another point, why did he arrive at a school of all places? Sure Bahumut said that this was a magic hotshot, but surely there were more magical places in the world. Why couldn't he arrived outside the dark mage's house so he could kick the crap out of him and go back to his afterlife in peace? Suppressing a sigh, Tidus slid off the bed and headed for the door.

"Well, thanks for healing me, but I better get going." The sooner he found this mage the sooner hew could talk to the fayth about Spira. The Headmaster stood up just as he turned, taken back. Obviously no one ever walked out on him in the middle of a conversation. "If I may inquire a moment of your time, I would be much obligated." the man stated in that quiet voice of his that brooked no argument. Tidus suppressed another sigh. So it was going to be like that. Another head of authority. Authority was something Tidus had little love for. He didn't much care about it, as any other teenager would. When he lived in Zandarkand, he obeyed rules, albeit reluctantly, but he still kept to curfew and all the pointless stuff adults insist was important to his future, but it grew to a real pain when he reached Spira.

When he reached Spira, he thought the country was run by a bunch of kooks, never noticing how dark and polluted the grip of power ran in the political and spiritual sphere. Being sentenced to die by the leaders of Spira only made it worse. Once he was labled a criminal of Yevon, well, it couldn't be much worse then everyone trying to kill you on sight, could it? Besides the fact those in a leader's postion often were in various degrees of insanity. Of course he could just be prejudice from Kinoc and Seymour. Both eager for power, both willing to do anything to keep it.

Why couldn't the aeons have just dropped him outside the dark mage's house so he could just get this done with? Then he wouldn't wouldn't have to keep on thinking about authority, and secrets and what not. But, he gripped the doorknob hesitating, there could be more to this then he thought. Did the fayth send him to this school on purpose without telling him? Have him fulfill another duty needed doing while holding a vital piece of information that he had no clue to? 'No, they wouldn't,' he argued with himself. 'What more could possibly happen to me?' And really, when he laid out all the things the Bahumut told him, that he was a dream, he wasn't real, and he was going to fade, anything else that could happen didn't seem quite to compare. How much worse could it get then not even being part of reality? But still...

Seeing the stranger hesitate, Albus continued, "I'm sure your curious where you are. I am curious how you came here. We could satisfy both sides."

Tidus slowly turned his head to face him, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. He was curious. The name of the school doesn't give an automatic mental map of the area. And what he really needed to know was where he was at and where to find this mage. 'Dark mage' isn't really specific.

Then again, there was something about this man that put him off. Perhaps it was because the same power he excluded was too reminiscent to the Maesters. And that was true, he realized. Powerful religious figures that lead the people of Spira with unfaltering loyalty. Sure he could open the door and leave, but like it or not, this Albus was here, and people like him always knew the real story behind the scene and that's exactly what he needed.

Tidus smiled. "Sounds good to me."