Anakin goes to Hogwarts

Chapter 2: A Stranger Arrives

Hagrid was spreading fertilizer on his pumpkin patch when a few nearby thestrals began to whinny and squawk. He looked over in concern and followed their agitated gaze skyward. Something was falling from the sky. As it descended, he could see that it was black and seemed to be flapping helplessly. "Go, boys," he shouted at the thestrals. "Tha' c'd be one o' yer brothers. 'E mighta been 'it by one o' those muggle flyin' machines. Quick, go catch 'im."

Three of the thestrals ran toward Hogwarts and launched themselves into the air. They reached the falling figure about thirty meters over the school and one of them flew under it. For a few meters they fell together, but the other two thestrals joined in support, spreading and straining their wings, and they all managed to land unharmed at the edge of the Quidditch pitch. Hagrid ran toward them as they reached the ground running, and lifted the limp figure off of the thestrals as soon as they stopped. It was not, he discovered immediately, an injured thestral, but it seemed to be human in shape. The flapping he had seen was simply the long black cloak it was wearing. Hagrid was sure the being was alive, because a strange gasping sound was coming from its head, which was covered by a black shiny helmet of some kind. Its loud breathing was growing weaker by the second, so Hagrid carried it quickly up to the castle and made his way to the infirmary wing.

"Poppy!" he called gruffly, "Ah need yer help, quick as yeh can!"

Madame Pomfrey hurried out of her office and looked immediately for blood or another black eye, but saw the enormous gatekeeper uninjured and holding a black-clad human-shaped figure that seemed to be gasping for breath, but whose face was covered by a grotesque and shiny skull-like mask.

"Who is that, Hagrid?" she demanded, leading the half-giant to an open bed. Hagrid gently laid his burden on it and stepped back.

"Ah dunno," he replied helplessly. "He fell outer the sky, and the thestrals caught 'im. 'E can' breathe proper, and 'e don' say nought, so I brung 'im 'ere."

The nurse clucked, and ran her fingers over the strange black mask, trying to find a way to remove it. WIth an impatient huff, she stood up and waved her wand over the strange figure to assess his (she assumed by the figure's stature that it must by a man, if it was indeed human) vital signs and injuries.

"Merlin's gout!" she exclaimed after running several tests. "Both arms and legs have been severed and replaced by artificial ones, and his lungs and most of his skin have been severely burned. This mask-helmet is all that keeps him alive. Thank Circe I didn't take it off." She continued to examine the man's lungs. "How curious," she commented abstractly. "The breathing mask and artificial limbs seem to be some kind of Muggle machinery, but he's not a Muggle. His magical aura is very powerful, but weakened significantly by his injuries. In fact, if I don't Heal his lungs immediately, he'll die within twenty minutes, I should say. Oh, dear," she began summoning various jars and bottles from her medicine cabinets, "I may have to actually re-grow them. The muscles have atrophied from years of disuse." She quickly cast a Breathing charm on the man to replace the task of his mask, and removed the front of it after careful inspection. Hagrid saw a bald, pasty head covered with scars, and winced.

"Hagrid, would you fire-call Headmaster Dumbledore?" she asked as she worked on extracting the tubing from the mysterious man's lungs. "He'll want to speak to this man if I can get him conscious. Tell him everything."

Hagrid lumbered over to the fireplace, got down on his knees, and floo-called the Headmaster's office. He found Professor Dumbledore working to repair his magical instruments, which had somehow all become smashed. He relayed the message, gasping, and Dumbledore promised to come at once. When he arrived, he performed many of the same tests that Madame Pomfrey had, and seemed especially interested in the strange man's artificial arms and legs. "Most ingenious," he said. "I have tried to keep an eye on the latest muggle inventions, but nothing like these has been mentioned in any of the technology journals to which I subscribe. You say he fell from directly above the school? How curious."

The man was still unconscious, so Madame Pomfrey used a tube-shaped device to deliver a muscle-restoring and strengthening potion to his stomach. "His aura is improving steadily," she commented with satisfaction. She spread another potion on his skin, whose burns and scars started to heal before Hagrid's eyes. When she had finished with the man's head, he was still bald and pale, but looked much younger and healthier. As the healing potion took effect, his breathing became less labored, and he regained some color in his cheeks. Madame Pomfrey then set to removing his clothing with clinical detachment. "He'll be breathing fine in a few more minutes," she said. "Hagrid, help me get this armor off."