Hey, I am back. Thanks for the reviews and follow of my story. It encourages me, so thank you so much. I will warn you that the this chapter is long, as there is a large revelation in this chapter, I hope you like it.

Now, without further ado, let's begin.

Chapter 2: That Wizard, Creating a Stir

Madam Pomfrey was feeling relaxed for the first time for a year. Everyone shared her feelings, all for the same reasons. The summer holidays have arrived; two whole months of relaxation with no tests, little homework and no classes. However, this year the summer air was even more inviting at Hogwarts for another reason.

The Dementors had been removed from the school boundaries.

The floating embodiments of fear, depression and trauma had been stationed at the school in order to prevent the escaped convict, Sirius Black, from breaking into the school and to quickly apprehend him. "Like that did any good," thought Poppy bitterly. Not only did they let Black escape three times (the third time he had been corned and was about to receive the dreaded Kiss) but they also greatly affected the student body.

Almost every week, some students have been brought to the hospital wing to receive a Soothing draught to enable them to cope with the chilling atmosphere that the Dementors always brought. Furthermore, two unwarranted invasions of the grounds caused Harry Potter (a student who always seemed to be a magnet for trouble) to stay for a few days in the hospital wing with every visit along with two other students on the second visit. In addition to that, the year before this year was filled with six horrifying incidents; four students have been Petrified along with Ms Norris and the Gryffindor Ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington (or Nearly-Headless Nick).

Even without those incidents, the students take her granted. They perform stupid dares, jinx or hex each other, take improperly made potions or perform other idiotic things that land them in the hospital wing. Almost all of them voiced their complaints about the way she is treating them or about how long they had to stay. They were (from Poppy's perspective) extremely ungrateful to the fact that there was a highly qualified witch in the school curing them at all.

"Oh well," thought Poppy, "time to make the most of these two months."

Just as she turned towards her office, the doors banged open loudly.

As Poppy turned towards the double doors, two people behind a levitating stretcher were striding towards her. Severus Snape strode on the left side of the stretcher whilst Minerva McGonagall strode on the right side, her wand outstretched and clearly manoeuvring the stretcher. One quick glance told her that there was a boy laying unconscious on top of the stretcher. Of all the thoughts and questions that were battling to get out of her mouth (some being "What happened?"/ "Who is that?"/"Where did he come from?), one thought overpowered them all.

"Bring him to this bed."

Poppy indicated the bed directly to her left. The bed was directly beneath a window, so the spotlight from the half moon shone down on the unconscious form of the boy as he was laid on top of it; this helpfully highlighted his appearance so Poppy could examine him thoroughly: he was about the age of fourteen on further examination, which was a surprise, considering his frame matched that of a boy of twelve; his auburn hair was wild-looking and tousled-haired, with some of the tips singed; his light-green, long-sleeved woollen tunic was also singed and torn, revealing the numerous cuts, bruises and burns that patterned them; he wore a brown leather harness of sorts, which was blacken and burnt in places; the boy wore dark greyish-green pants, singed with holes that covered his-

With a yelp, Poppy jumped back, staring at the legs.

Correction; leg.

Whilst one of them ended with a brown fur boot with its tip burned away, exposing the burnt tips of the boy's toes, the other leg ended just below the knee. However, that wasn't the thing the disturbed Pomfrey, McGonagall or Snape. It was the shape of the leg. The shin just below the knee was stretched and twisted like softened rubber, ending in a tip and the surface of the twisted flesh had the sharp edges of a refined diamond.

Nobody had anything to say about the boy in front of them. Nobody was even breathing audibly, even as Pomfrey started walking around the bed, waving and flicking her wand above the boy. After a few minutes, she spoke but only to herself. "Dragon fire burns. Not as bad as it could have been. Only need the weaker solution." Pomfrey walked towards the medicine storage room, leaving the two professors in their thoughts.

Who is he? Where was he from? How did he get those dragon burns? What was that leather harness for? Is he a wizard? If not, how did he get into the school boundaries? How did he get that abnormal injury?

Before anymore questions could go though their minds, the hospital doors opened again and two people entered. Sprout and Flitwick were both carrying (or in the latter's case, levitating with his wand) a towering column of leather-bound, dusty, aged tomes that easily passed the tops of their heads. As they approached, Pomfrey conjured a table beside the lone occupied bed, where the grateful witch and wizard gently set down their books. On the spine of the tomes were things written like, 'Apparition & Disapparation: A History', 'Time-travelling: A Timely and Untimely History', 'Strangest Magical Injuries and Afflictions', and 'Suppressed Magic: the Untold Consequences'. Before Pomfrey could pose her question, Sprout answered it.

"The Headmaster has instructed us to find books on the specified topics he requested and to bring them to the hospital wing, Poppy."

"I wonder why Dumbledore asked us to bring this many books about these certain subjects," pondered Flitwick out loud.

"Perhaps he will answer that when he arrives," responded Sprout.

"Where is the Headmaster?" inquired Pomfrey.

"On the grounds, examining it. He should be coming in any minute now," answered Flitwick.

Sure enough, through the ajar doors, a tall, thin, silvery-white hair and bearded, blue clothed figure came walking towards the hospital wing. Five pairs of eyes watched Dumbledore intently as he strode to the bed and stood still at the foot of it, staring at the boy through his half-moon glasses. Absolute silence filled the next few minutes slowly and thickly, like cold custard, until Pomfrey broke it.

"What exactly happened?"

Dumbledore took awhile to respond to this question; when he did, his voice was barely a whisper as he described the scene he and the other professors witnessed: the strange fracturing, the enormous burst of swirling energy and the sudden appearance of the boy in the bed before them (though the pure silence, the words carried quickly and loudly).

"How did the boy manage to get inside the school boundaries?" whispered Pomfrey, voicing the central question that was on everyone's mind. Dumbledore closed his eyes as if he was in pain as he answered everyone's question.

"This may sound absurd but this is the only theory that I think answers many of the questions that we all have."

"Well, what is it?" everyone asked.

Dumbledore sighed as he raised his head and said, "He simultaneously Apparated and time-travelled here."

They all blinked at him in disbelief, a few seconds drifted silently by like a leaf in the wind before they responded.

"What?" they all muttered softly.

"He simultaneously Apparated and time-travelled here," Dumbledore repeated, opening his eyes as they focused on the boy again.

Silence hung among them like a thick fog as their thoughts became obscured by feelings and thoughts of perplexity and incredulity.

"Albus."

The silence was killed by McGonagall, as she spoke, disbelief carved into her every facial feature.

"That's impossible."

Dumbledore's face rose from his fixed gaze at bed's occupant. His face held a grim expression as his graze fixed on the window directly above the bed.

"Albus, what are you saying? How do you know that this boy was able to time-travel as well as Apparate here?" McGonagall asked, "those things should be impossible for a mere child."

"I knew he was able to Apparate here because when I examined the grounds, I discovered that the Anti-Apparition Ward has been disabled."

"WHAT!?"

They all shouted loudly, expressing their enormous horror and astonishment; even Madam Pomfrey exclaimed in shock and did not reprimand her fellow staff members (even though she were famous for punishing anyone for being too audible; she would cast the Silencing Charm on students who constantly disrupted the silence).

"How could he be able to do that!?" exclaimed Snape.

"It is possible to break down the ward, although, an inconceivably enormous amount of energy is necessary to do so," said Dumbledore.

"And where would he get such power to break down a ward that can only be dispelled by you? And even if he did, how would he be able to time-travel as well?" enquired Snape.

"I don't know how he was able to time travel but that is the only thing that makes sense. We never heard of this boy before and we would have as the Book of Attendance and the Quill of Acceptance would have recorded his name. Also, his clothes are another piece of evidence. This type of clothing was is not in trend with neither Muggles or wizards and witches; it is typical clothing of the Dark Ages. Also, it is not a costume as the fabric is comfortable, which means that these are day clothes. And it makes sense about how and why this boy would have gotten the power to time travel and disable the Anti-Apparition Ward.

"He lived in a period of time where witchcraft would have been punishable by death and might have been raised in an anti-witchcraft household. So, in an attempt to preserve his life, he suppressed his magic from an early age. Thus, when he was cornered or reached his limit, the magic erupted out of him and forced him to Apparate and time travel here. The power that was bottled up must be strong enough to overcome the enchantment on the castle and the grounds.

"Furthermore, his leg provides indisputable proof; the injury shows obvious signs of temporal distortion, a horrible side effect of ill-prepared time travelling. I am not an expert in Time manipulation but the symptoms point to nothing else."

Another suffocating silence again filled the room. It was then cracked open by the barely audible whisper, which issued from Flitwick.

"It is nothing short of a miracle that this boy was only injured on his leg."

"Yes, it was probably sheer luck that his leg was the only area of his area that suffered any major negative effects," lamented Dumbledore, "he must have Splinched his leg then the time-fracturing warped his leg."

"I'm not sure I could heal that leg completely."

Everyone turned towards Madam Pomfrey; her face was pale from exhaustion from staying up so long and from the relentless flow of startling discoveries. Even so, she was still determined to heal the boy as best as she can and it was evident in her eyes and in her tone of voice.

"But, I am determined to give it a try."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said, bowing his head in her direction. Turning away from her to address the rest of the staff, he said, "We have seen the raw power that this boy contains in his body. He was able to disable the Anti-Apparition Ward and travel through time, and in doing so, has sustained a serious injury in his left leg that might not be restored completely (here Dumbledore gestured the boy's injury). If the boy continues to suppress in magic, the consequences can be unbelievable." Dumbledore paused for the slightest second as two scenes came in front of his thoughts: his mother in a coffin, killed by a magical explosion, caused by his sister's rages; and his sister, laying blank-eyed on the floor, dead after all the care their mother had provided her.

"Hence," Dumbledore swiftly continued, after he composed himself, "I have come to the conclusion that we must train the boy as soon as he has regained his strength so that no accidental harm can be inflicted. This means that we must train him in the usage of wands during the summer so that he may have means of channelling and controlling his magic."

Yet again, silence fell amongst them like a fog as they took in Dumbledore's words. He continued on.

"Now, I completely understand if you decide to not to teach this boy. Teaching a student magic over the summer is not only against Hogwarts protocols but also against Ministry protocols. You may continue to prepare your belongings tonight so that you may-"

"Albus."

Dumbledore peered at McGonagall though his half-moon glasses; the other professors also stared at McGonagall. Never would they have dreamed that McGonagall (a loyal and devoted friend of Dumbledore) would ever have the nerve to interrupt him just as she did then.

"You don't need to say that. I am not abandoning this child who needs as much help as he needs, nor will do so in the future. I shall assist you in every endeavour you take, no matter what it is."

After a short pause, the other professors joined in voicing their agreement with Dumbledore's proposal.

"Well spoken Minerva. I too, will assist you Dumbledore!" squeaked tiny Flitwick.

"You can count me in as well," said Sprout determinedly.

"I may as well help you Headmaster, as everyone seems eager to follow you," said Snape tiredly, rolling his eyes.

Appreciation and joy swelled in Dumbledore as he heard their encouragement and words of loyalty, and from those emotions; he knew that all of them, even Snape, was willing to help him. Despite the peculiarity of the night's events and the uncertainties that would follow, they were still willing to follow by his side, all to help a strange boy in anyway they could. Bowing down his head to show his gratitude, Dumbledore said "Thank you for agreeing to train this boy. It will mean a lot to him once he realises the stakes that it entails. However, we currently have a more pressing situation on our hands. The temporal-distortion of the boy's leg will be the most difficult part we have to heal. We need to support Poppy by researching any pieces of information in the books I have requested to be brought along that could aid in the restoration the leg back to its optimal state."

Though they were thoroughly exhausted physically from staying up so late and mentally from the onslaught of startling discoveries that was flooded their minds, all of them (McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Sprout) wasted no time flicking their wands and Summoning a tome each. Dumbledore then turned to Pomfrey; she was busy dabbed two types of ointment on the boy's burns, cuts and bruises (a pale orange ointment for the burns and a lilac gel for the various cuts and bruises).

"Poppy, how long must he stay under?" enquired Dumbledore.

"In my opinion, it's best if we leave him unconscious for a few days or even a weekĺP," responded Pomfrey.

"Then, we must provided physical and emotional support," Dumbledore continued, "Not only has he lost his leg, which by itself requires huge adjustments, but now he is in an unfamiliar world where everything he once knew is gone and where everything is different. He will be scared, frightened and overwhelmed. Therefore, may I request that you continue to contribute to the physical rehabilitation of the boy, though, should you have any other plans, I won't stop you."

"Well, it's supposed to be my job to fix young people up," responded Pomfrey with a mocking smile. Mocking or not, Dumbledore appreciated her help.

"Now I must assist with the others in their research." With a snap of his fingers, a book flew towards Dumbledore, which he caught with the hand he used to Summon it and he began to quickly riffle through.

"HEADMASTER!"

A sudden scream caused nearly everyone to drop the books they were holding. "What now?!" Madam pomfrey asked exasperated, conjuring a pair of earmuffs that glided and fit themselves snuggly around the boy's ears. Dumbledore (being the only one who merely jumped at the sound and did not relinquish his grip on his book) turned his gaze towards the source of the unexpected shriek whilst the other professors stooped down to collect their fallen tomes (with the exception of Flitwick - who was hopping around the spot - muttering a selection of colourful words as quietly as he could, due to the fact that the enormous tome he had supported with his wand had fallen on his foot.)

The sound had come from a painting. It was framed with a gorgeously-carved, wooden frame and it captured a scenic scene of a beach, sporting deep, clear, sapphire seas; pristine, azure, blue skies with swathes of pure white clouds hovering amongst the sky; and eggshell-hued sands which faded into the sea, all brought to life in oil paint. The person in the painting was an ancient witch with long silver ringlets under a black, wide-brimmed, pointed hat.

The painting would have been completely ordinary were it not for the fact that the contents of the portrait were moving; foamy surf glided up the beach, the fluffy clouds floated lazily around the scene and the witch was moving. She was red-faced and sweaty, her hat was askew and her hair was wind-swept; it was clear that she sprinted a long distance quickly. Furthemore, an aroma of salty brine, the panting and wheezing of the witch and the swash of the waves all emanated from the painting .

"Dilys, what is it?" Dumbledore inquired.

"H-headma-maaster," Dilys panted, "a mes-ssaage from Haag-riid. Heee ha-as found the thii-ing thaaat ca-ame out o-of the fiisssure aand he iiss bringiing it to the hos-pital ward."

"Something else managed to get inside the school boundaries?!" exclaimed McGonagall.

"What else did he say?" posed Dumbledore.

"He said," Dilys said gaining her breath back steadily, "do not do anything that may threaten him." With that, Dilys promptly stumbled out of the painting to get some well-deserved rest, leaving the group in their thoughts yet again.

Soon, the ground began quaking, indicated to them that Hagrid was coming. All of (even Madam Pomfrey, who hastened to deposit the ointments she had been applying on the boy) stood side by side with their hands clutched on their unraised wands, facing the door. The quaking grew louder and closer until the ward doors burst open. Hagrid came in looking quite flustered; after a slight paused, he told them, "Don't do anything that may threaten him," and he stepped sideways to reveal what was behind him.

"Hagrid, what are you-" began McGonagall but as Hagrid revealed what was behind him, she gasped. She wasn't the only one who gasped, everyone gasped in horror (except Dumbledore, though his face was now craved with horror and surprise).

A dragon.

Not just any dragon, one of the rarest, the most powerful, the most famous. They all recognised the obsidian scales that covered its sinewy, muscular body; its bat-like wings that were larger than its body, resembling it to a small plane; its ebony spines, shaped like shark fins, that lined its back and tail in two ordered lines and its eyes, its piercing eyes of the brightest emerald with vertical cat-like slits for pupils.

A Night Fury.

Kii-yah, Toothless is here. Oh, words cannot express how much I love him. What do you think of this chapter? I thought it was good to add a bit of perspective on Madam Pomfrey as she had to deal with a whole lot of crap as the Hogwarts matron and is an unsung hero.

Also, do you like my version about how Hiccup came to Hogwarts? I thought that the defect Portkey version was over done; I thought this made much more sense to me.

Now, a quote from the next chapter and this one's from: Hagrid.

"Ar' yer looking for the boy?"

Well, that's all from this week, see ya next week (hopefully).