Chapter Two "Harry's Knowledge"

Dumbledore glanced over at a shallow stone or metal basin, into which runes and strange symbols were carved and precious stones were fitted. It was filled with a silvery substance that appears to be a cloudy liquid/gas; the memories that Harry Potter had been so gracefully gifted to him to as the young man had said, "enlighten him."

"I have indeed been enlightened," Dumbledore grumbled as he recalled some of the memories that Harry had given without anything in return that the Hogwarts headmaster had witnessed with the aid of the Pensieve. "The Unspeakables known as the Redactors did an excellent job in destroying knowledge of the Dark Arts that could kill many people and their efforts no doubt saved countless lives but so much wonderful knowledge of magic and the past was also destroyed." He sighed.

He felt the saying, "a frog at the bottom of the well," really fit the situation that he was in as Dumbledore gazed up to the night sky and wondered how many of the stars that his eyes could see were homes to the many marvelous worlds of magic and gods shown by Harry's memories.

The Hogwarts Headmaster started to make plans well for the storm that had evidently come with Harry's appearance. He didn't know if the gods and magical beings that Harry knew of would follow the young man to Earth but the knowledge Harry possessed if shared would shake the very foundation of the muggle and wizarding world.

A knock on the door snapped Dumbledore out of his musing as he said, "Come in, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley."

"Professor, you wanted to see us." Hermione called out as she entered the office with Ron.

"Please come on and sit," Dumbledore replied as he waved his hands to make his office presentable. "Would you like a lemon drop?"

"Thank you very much," said Ron gratefully as he took one of the sweets and popped it into his mouth. "Are we in trouble, sir?"

"This has nothing to do with any trouble that the two of you sometimes cause." Dumbledore shook his head. "I called upon you, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, because I would like to ask if you can act as guides for Harry Potter until he is familiar with Hogwarts."

"I wouldn't have a problem, sir." Hermione replied immediately.

"Mione, we are busy with our own studies. I don't think we have the time to act as guides." Ron complained.

"That applies to you, Ron. I certainly have the time to help a new student settle into Hogwarts." She replied to Ron before turning to the headmaster. "Sir, will Harry Potter be in the same year as us? If he is then I can help out but if he is in another year…"

"Mr Potter is the same year, a Fifth Year, as you, Miss Granger." Dumbledore interrupted. "The Sorting Hat has placed Mr Potter into Gryffindor. I have arranged for him to share the same schedule as you."

"How very convenient," Ron muttered.

"Ron." Hermione glared at Ron before apologizing. "Please excuse Ron. He was just grouchy from today's classes."

"No, Mr Weasley is right. Some might say that I abused my position to have Mr Potter have the same schedule as the two of you." Dumbledore replied calmly. "So do you have any questions for me, Miss Granger about your task?"

"Not about what I have to do," Hermione shook her head. "It's about Harry Potter. Is he really the son of James and Lily Potter?"

Dumbledore maintained his friendly demeanor but cursed inside his mind for completely forgetting to check if Harry was the son of dear James and Lily. He had been so caught up with the discovery that gods were real, there were many more worlds out there beyond Earth and so much more… The Hogwarts Headmaster made a mental note to approach Harry about his parents the next time they met.

"I thought it was not an appropriate time to approach Mr Potter about that topic when he is very confused by where he is." Dumbledore lied smoothly. "Oh, I wanted to warn you that you should approach the topic of religion… very carefully."

"Is he religious? What religions does he believe in?"

The Hogwarts Headmaster thought carefully. He didn't want to release a bombshell that was what Harry had told him but if Hermione was going to act as a guide for Harry, then she would learn about it eventually. Better that she was mentally prepared then caught unaware.

"Mr Potter doesn't come from this world…" Dumbledore paused to let the words sink in.

"You mean he is a Muggle? I clearly saw a portal…" Ron glanced at Hermione. "Mione, I have heard your muggle stories, especially when you call the Sci-Fi genre. Are muggles already able to create portals with technology?"

Hermione shook her head. "Muggles are a very, very long way from transporting anything teleportation or portals. The most they can transport is a few atoms right now." She turned to Dumbledore. "Sir, you're not talking about the muggle world. You mean like from another world that is not Earth, Headmaster."

"That is indeed correct." Dumbledore replied. "You will have to ask Mr Potter about the matter yourself."

"Of course," She smiled in a slightly disappointed manner but her eyes glowed with curiosity. "Then please excuse me, sir." Hermione stood up. "I need to prepare to take care of Harry tomorrow."

"Thank you for accepting my request, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore gratefully. "Have a good night, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley."

"Good night to you, Sir." Ron and Hermione replied back as they waved goodbye and left Dumbledore's office. He stared at where his two students left and asked himself. "I wonder how will Harry adapt to Hogwarts?"

- O -

I stared at my "guides" with curiosity. The male had fiery red hair and a freckled complexion. He had blue eyes, a long nose, and was very tall and lanky, with big hands and feet. The female had light skin, bright brown eyes, lots of bushy brown hair.

Physically, my guides were similar to the other "wizards" and "witches" I had seen so far, who fell into two categories: either thin and underweight or overweight and slightly chubby. Something was very common amongst many mages I had met due to often sedentary lifestyles. That would have likely remained the same if I hadn't trained the dual path of a warrior and mage or my time as a constantly active mercenary.

"Hello, my name is Harry Potter." I smiled in a friendly manner. "May I know your names."

"Ronald Weasley. Call me, Ron." The male replied as he offered a hand. "This is Hermione Granger besides me."

I shook the offered hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ron and Hermione."

"It's a pleasure to meet my first otherworlder." said Hermione as she scrutinized me with interest. "I would love to hear your stories about what it is like outside of Earth."

"Think of it as payment for helping me adapt to Hogwarts." I responded happily. "Although, you might be disappointed later when you hear about my stories of the CrossRoads and the worlds beyond Earth. The more things change the more they stay the same."

"The worlds beyond might not be as you warned as beautiful or different but it still must be unique in their own ways." She smiled, barely hiding her excitement. "Headmaster Dumbledore has been kind enough to arrange so that you share the same schedule as Ron and I have. The class we will be attending is Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Why is the class name so long? Wouldn't it be simpler to name it Self-Defense?" I asked curiously.

"I thought the same in my First Year," Hermione nodded in agreement. "Turns out that it is tradition, and the wizarding world has a very strange insistence of separating normal magic from the Dark Arts."

I became very curious what the "Dark Arts" were defined on Earth, at least this part of the world he found himself on. My time on the CrossRoads had been travel distances larger than Earth and I had visited many worlds more numerous in population and size. Would Dark Arts include something as minor as even the simplest illusions and mind magic of New Greeks or magic that demanded the sacrifice of countless such as the Devil Paths of the Eastern Cultivators.

"Dark Arts," Hermione began, "in general is any type of magic that was mainly used to cause harm, exert control over, or kill. What magics fall under the Dark Arts differs from country to country and users of the Dark Arts are punished."

What I heard was slightly underwhelming but I quickly understood the logic of such a definition. I knew next to nothing about the society and culture of the region of Earth I found myself in, but it seemed that it had to be rather peaceful if the definition of Dark Arts was so broad and applied to any magic that inflicts harm. For example, in the Eastern Cultivator lands, where wars were commonly place and murder was an everyday occurrence, the act of what was considered Dark Arts were blood sacrifices of humans to empower themselves.

"Is Hogwarts not that eye-catching? You didn't bat so much as glance around while we were walking." Ron chimed, curiously.

"To tell you the truth, Hogwarts doesn't seem that too impressive as I had been expecting." I admitted. "At least that is what I have seen so far. What I wanted to see the most was what caught the eye of an Avatar of Merlin while attending Hogwarts as a student."

"Avatar of Merlin." Hermione repeated with great interest. "Do you not mean Merlin?"

"What do you think when you imagine Merlin?" I asked instead.

"An old and wise wizard, considered by many as the greatest wizard in existence." Hermione replied. "I have the feeling that this is not the Merlin you're talking about."

"Just like any mythical or legendary figure, Merlin has many stories that conflict with each other about his background, abilities, etc. The common consensus where I come from is that Merlin is the most powerful and knowledgeable human druid that eventually became a god." I explained.

"You're one of those few wizards that believe Merlin is a god?" Ron blurted out in shock.

"Not believe," I shook my head. "He is a God. The god of Nature, Wildlife and Druids to the Welsh and to many others."

Hermione asked as she stared curiously at me, "You seem to imply gods are real?"

"Gods exist but their influence on Earth waned after the Shattering War, which saw them exiled by the planet." I replied. "It seems like the influence of religion has greatly waned to the point that you doubt the existence of gods." I added with great fascination at such a development of Earth, which had once been the home and birthplace of many gods.

"Religion is still a powerful force," said Hermione, "but there has been no irrefutable evidence of gods' existence."

"I don't know how religion works on Earth after the Shattering War but in the CrossRoads and other worlds, religion is an organization between centered around a god or pantheon of gods who acts in many capacities; mentor, protector, patron and many other roles." I explained and I reached into my spatial bag that contained all my belongings. A large tome appeared and I handed it to Hermione. "I will lend you this book. It contains everything you would want to know abouts religions in the CrossRoads and beyond, short of meeting a Cleric."

"Cleric?" Hermione repeated with great interest.

"Mione, you can ask Harry about that later. We are going to be late for class at this rate. Come on!" Ron shouted as he started to run down the hallway.

"Wait a second!" Hermione frantically put the book that Harry had given her away into her bag and quickly chased after Ron. "Don't leave without me!"

I quickly chased after Ron and Hermione, and I couldn't help but wonder what knowledge awaited him.

- O -

I followed Ron and Hermione through various hallways and stairs to soon arrive at our classroom. We hurried into three chairs right in front of the teacher's desk. Ron and Hermione took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and Hermione handed me a copy of the book too. I thanked the girl and quickly browsed through the book to learn how the magic taught in Hogwarts was different from the various magic systems I had encountered on the CrossRoads.

My reading didn't get too far when I heard some distinctive clunking footsteps coming from the corridor outside the classroom.

The person that entered the room had a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair. The scars caught my attention. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The scars on his face such as a mouth looked like a diagonal gash and a large chunk of the missing nose being the most eye-catching. For a moment, I thought I was looking at someone that might want to brag about their "adventures" with scars being some sort of proof. That changed the moment I stared at the man's eyes.

While it was not impossible to fake, eyes that had brushed closely with death many times, witnessed many horrible things was something that I could easily spot. This man was a fellow kin of mine, someone that had witnessed the horrors of life.

"Who is he?" I whispered to Hermione.

"Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody." Hermione whispered back. "He is-"

"You can put those away," Moody growled, stumping over to his desk at the front of the classroom and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."

I put away the textbook into my spatial bag and noticed everybody had done the same.

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures — you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind — very behind — on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So, I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark Arts. So… Let's get straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms."

"Harry," Hermione whispered as she nudged my ribs. "Why are you not taking notes?"

I nearly chuckled at Hermione's question. Once upon a time, I might have had a great deal memorizing something the moment I saw or heard something but my times as a mercenary had sharpened my ability to remember. If memorization failed then I had the recording crystal attached to my necklace that I had activated to listen to.

Hermione clearly didn't like my response and was about to say something but she quickly resumed note-taking when Moody started to talk.

"Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that," said Moody. "I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful."

While I agreed with many of Moody's wise words, there was something clearly wrong with Moody. He had clearly reached the breaking point that came with too much paranoia. A certain dose of paranoia was okay as it could save yourselves from danger but too much was also a bad thing as you couldn't differentiate between reality and your perceived fears.

"So . . . do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron's and Hermione's. Moody pointed at Ron.

"Er," said Ron tentatively, "my dad told me about one… Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"

"Ah, yes," said Moody appreciatively. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. I saw Ron recoil. Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it.

I watched with anticipation at what was to come. How the magic taught at Hogwarts was different from the magic I had learned or encountered on the CrossRoads. It took some focusing but as I filtered out the outside world and the only thing, I saw mana around me.

The Hogwarts students all possessed mana, much more than non-mana users, Muggles as they were called on Earth. The amount and quality of the mana differ from individual to individual. Yet, they were all comparable to sapling if Moody was a mature tree.

Moody's mana vessels were comparable to a mature tree, but it was not a very healthy one. The scars that covered his body also littered his mana vessels. Damage from past injuries that had never healed properly. If I had to guess, Moody retained only a fraction of the magical might he had possessed in his prime due to the ill-treated and crippling wounds he had suffered.

I turned my attention to Moody's mana converter points located at the surfaces of the human body to see where the mana would come out from and be turned from magical energy that would fuel whatever magic spell that Moody was about to use. What I discovered surprised me. The mana converter points seemed to be atrophied like Moody hadn't used them in years.

How do wizards and witches on Earth use magic then? Do they use wands in place of their own inherent mana converters? I wondered as Moody's mana flowed into his wand.

"Imperio!" Moody shouted as mana was converted into magical energy to fuel the magic spell.

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance. Everyone was laughing — everyone except Moody and me.

My expression darkened. It seems I had made a wrong assumption that magic would have stagnated or even regressed after Earth was cut off from the CrossRoads following the calamitic Shattering War. I had seen a myriad of body manipulation spells but few magic spells of such type combined the traits of being extremely efficient in mana usage, using low amounts of mana or bypassing magic resistance that all mana users possessed.

"Think it's funny, do you?" Moody growled at the laughing students, but he seemed surprised by my reaction. His gaze quickly passed over me as he continued to address the class. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?" The laughter died away almost instantly. "Total control," said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats… Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse. Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will."

I started to compare this "Imperius Curse" to the other body domination magic spell I had seen personally in action or learned about. My thoughts were quickly interrupted when Moody continued with his teaching.

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped. Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. "Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Hermione's hand flew into the air again and did another person's hand. The hand belonged to a boy, who looked surprised at his own daring.

"Yes?" said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on the boy.

"There's one, the Cruciatus Curse," said the boy in a small but distinct voice.

Moody was looking very intently at the boy, this time with both eyes. "Your name's Neville Longbottom?" He asked, his magical eye swooping down to check the student register again.

Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

"The Cruciatus Curse," said Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," Pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!" The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but I knew if it could speak like a human, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently.

"Stop it!" Hermione shouted shrilly as she stood up and slammed her hands onto her desk.

I looked around and was not surprised by the sight. Many in the class were horrified. The same would have happened for me if it wasn't for years on the CrossRoads as an assistant to mercenaries before becoming a mercenary myself.

Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

"Reducio," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar. "Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse…"

My head shook in disapproval at the sight of the torturing magic spell. In my opinion, the Cruciatus Curse was something that the students didn't need to know about, much less see the effects for themselves. The sight would be traumatic for many. Another reason I had against teaching about the magic spell was that it was a waste of time. I doubted many in the class would grow up and join in occupations that required information security, if they did then they would receive the necessary anti-torture training as a fully grown and consenting adult.

"Right… Anyone know any other curses?"

I looked around. From the looks on everyone's faces, it seemed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. Hermione's hand shook slightly as she raised it into the air.

"Yes?" said Moody, looking at her.

"Avada Kedavra," Hermione whispered. Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron.

"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra . . . the Killing Curse."

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface. Moody raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air — instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead.

Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him. Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

"Not nice," Moody said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it."

I raised my brow and lifted my hand.

"You are…" Moody looked to the student registry. "Mr Potter, what do you have to say?"

"Are you implying this 'Killing Curse' is unblockable or just incredibly difficult that it might be considered so?" I asked, curious to Moody's response.

"Unblockable, at least through magical means," said Moody. "If you were to throw a physical object that was not Conjured up with magic then it could block the Killing Curse."

Do people not know about magic penetration and magic resistance? I wondered in confusion at Moody's answer. "Professor Moody can you…"

I reached for my spatial bag and grabbed out a very special mouse, known as a Sacrificial Detector/Bait. I stood up and placed the paralyzed, specially bred white mouse on a desk not too far away from Moody.

"Try using the Killing Curse on this." I requested while glancing at Moody.

"I don't see what not." Moody replied and he pointed his wand at the mouse. "Avada Kedavra!"

The green light flashed from the tip of Moody's wand and shot towards the white mouse.

What happened next shocked everyone, including the stoic Moody.

The white mouse squeaked in pain as if it had been dealt a serious wound, but not something that was fatal. The paralysis magic spell that had been on it broke loose as the mouse's pain and newfound power as flight or flight mechanism kicked into effect. It quickly got up and scrawled away but Moody could only stare in disbelief as the white mouse disappeared.

Moody soon recovered his composure and asked, "The Killing Curse may not be able to kill creatures bigger than a human immediately but something as small as a mouse should have died at once. What is so different about the mouse?"

I smiled. I sensed a perfect opportunity to profit over my knowledge from the CrossRoads. Whether it was money or favors, I couldn't just let this opportunity slip by. So, I only remained silent, waiting for the bigger fish to bite.

- O -

My decision to withhold information about how the Sacrificial Detector/Bait lived through getting hit by the seemingly impossible to survive "Killing Curse" proved to be a correct one when Dumbledore came racing into the classroom not too long after my demonstration.

"Mr Potter, I ask you to share with us how the mouse survived the Killing Curse," said Dumbledore in a serious tone. "If the wizarding world was able to understand or even replicate what you did then many lives will be saved."

I suddenly felt conflicted. My initial plans to profit from my knowledge subsided somewhat when I saw Dumbledore's pleading expression and I remembered that this was not a small back-water village that had been isolated and left ignorant. Earth was a planet filled with hundreds of millions of people at the very least and I was trying to profit from knowledge that had the potential to save countless lives since they were ignorant about why the Killing Curse was survivable.

A sense of disgust also manifested when my mind recalled the times that I had seen people take advantage of those that were seriously injured or close to dying to make a profit.

"Does this world have the concept of patents?" I asked, changing my initial plan to make a huge profit and down-scaling it to a level where I wouldn't be seen as an opportunistic merchant taking advantage of those in need.

"Yes, we do." Dumbledore nodded. "Are you planning to patent your method or knowledge of surviving the Killing Curse?"

"That is correct. I am not a saint that will give away my knowledge without something in return but I am not a demon that profits over the misery and death of others. I want to make a fair deal." I replied frankly.

"Let's make a provisional contract for now," said Dumbledore as he waved his hands. "Please take a look at the listed conditions and tell me if you wish to make amendments."

I caught the paper that Dumbledore had produced and looked at it with close eye. The last thing I wanted was to sign a magical contract which was very unfavorable to me. I had been burned too many times, with magical contracts that enforced strict penalties that had made me despair.

"The provisional contract seems good," I nodded happily as I signed the magical contract. "We can discuss the finer details about how much I want in return for knowledge at a later time."

"Was the mouse specially bred or modified to survive the Killing Curse?" Dumbledore asked without waiting a single second.

"Yes, the mouse was specially bred to imitate many human traits so that it could be used like a canary in mines to detect dangers that might seriously harm or kill a human, but beyond that nothing else alarmingly special. It is called a Sacrificial Detector/Bait for that purpose." I replied.

"If the mouse imitates human traits then it should have died to the Killing Curse but that didn't happen. What is that, Mr Potter?" Dumbledore asked, staring into my eyes as if peering into my mind.

"Have you ever heard the terms, Magic Penetration or Magic Resistance?" I asked. Dumbledore shook his head to my surprise. "Well, these terms refer to the magical mechanisms of all mana users…"

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