Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I am making no financial gain from this story whatsoever.

A/N: Sorry for the delay (about a month I believe).

A reviewer's asked if I got the forward time-travel idea from Planet of the Apes. To be honest, I've never watched the movie, the original nor the re-make. Now, I'll have got to check it, to see what you meant.

I thank all of you who've reviewed profusely. It makes writing this all the more fun.

Chapter 9
Revelations

"Get up," the teacher ordered.

"A minute if you please, sir," replied Harry, through ragged breaths.

He was on the ground, on his back. He had started muggle fighting classes, and apparently their idea of learning could only come with pain.

"It's enough for today," said the teacher. "Remain on the ground if you wish."

The teacher conjured a chair, and sat on it. A lecture began.

"In the past, wizards have designated classes for proficiency in magic. There are three such classes.

"A third class wizard is a very weak wizard. Generally, they are given to students. That, or magically deficient wizards. They are extremely weak."

"Like squibs?" Harry asked.

"No," replied the teacher. "A squib is one who can't do magic. A third class wizard can. They just are hopeless with spell casting."

"How do they survive?"

"Many don't," was the reply, "and some do. Some great potion-makers, herbologists, historians in the magical world were third class wizards. They concentrated on what they could do, rather than on what they couldn't.

"A second class wizard is the average wizard. Most of the wizarding population falls under this group. They are competent in wand-waving, but aren't very skilled in any of the main categories of magic; Charms, Transfiguration nor the Dark Arts (or the defence against).

"A first-class wizard is a wizard that has been able to become an expert in Charms, Transfiguration, or the Dark Arts. Aurors, for example, would fall into that."

"What about wizards like Voldemort?" Harry queried.

"This class system was for society. Wizards like Dumbledore, Voldemort and Grindlewald don't fit this generalisation. They're far more powerful than a first-class wizard."

"How would one know which one a stranger is?" Harry asked.

"In the past," answered the teacher, "the magical population were expected to reveal it in public. A sash was worn over the shoulder, with each class having a different colour. This class system ended over a hundred years ago. Certain wars were fought where there were great advantages for wizards to keep their magical powers secret."

"What would the wizards that were more powerful than first-class wear?"

"They'd still wear the first-class sash," answered the teacher. "It is always an advantage to have people under-estimate you. Never reveal your strengths."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione woke up quite early in the morning, needing to finish off some essays before classes started. She got them done after a couple of hours. She looked at her watch; the Great Hall was about to be open.

She headed to Harry's quarters, but received no answer to her knocks. Shaking her head, she wondered where would he be at this time. She went back to her room, and quickly came out with an old parchment.

She walked out of the castle, and went to the Forbidden Forest, near Hagrid's residence. Technically, it was still on Hogwarts grounds, but Hermione wondered what Harry needed to do there. Even more puzzling was why he was there this early. Hermione realised Harry was hiding something (as she suspected), so she walked more cautiously. She'll find out what he was doing before he notices her presence.

She saw him in a clearing about a hundred metres into the forest. Funny, she knew that no clearing existed here. Why would Harry need to make one?

He was standing, and wasn't moving. Hermione stopped to see what he was doing, but Harry didn't move for a minute. She snuck up closer, making sure she remained where he couldn't see her.

Harry bent down, and picked up another arrow. He then raised it to a bow, and aimed it towards a target he conjured ahead of him. He was immobile for twenty seconds or so, except for his eyes, which moved slightly in all directions. He let the arrow go.

"Damn!" he remarked, when the arrow missed the target. "Personally, I blame distraction for that disastrous miss. What about you, Hermione?"

Hermione grumbled. He hadn't turned around once, and he still knew of her presence.

"Anyways," Harry continued, "isn't it rude to sneak around? Some call it not minding one's own business."

"Hush you," Hermione muttered, annoyed by the arrogant smile Harry had. "I was looking for you, and didn't find you at your room. I used the Marauder's map to find you. Imagine my surprise to see you here this early."

Harry summoned the fallen arrows, and put them, with the bow, and a sword that was on the ground, into a bag. He then raised his hand and looked at Hermione.

"What?" Hermione asked, confused.

"The map," he replied.

"What about it?"

"I want it back."

"But you gave it to me four years ago," she seethed.

"Well, technically, I didn't give you," he said smoothly. "Thus, I want what is rightfully mine, back."

"Why is it rightfully yours?" Hermione argued. "We all had it together."

"Inheritance," Harry replied. "Harry Potter, last child of the Marauders. In fact, the only child from a Marauder. I'll take it back, then?"

"But it's so helpful, Harry," Hermione wailed. Harry shrugged.

"Then keep it," he said. "I'm sure there are ways of finding people without the map, and eluding the bloody thing."

"So," Hermione said as she buttered her toast n the Great Hall, "what were you doing?"

"Simple training," Harry replied. "I've got to make sure I'm not rusty."

"So?" Hermione asked.

"So... what?" Harry asked.

"Is there any difference now?"

"Some slight improvements," Harry said. "Nothing more I've noticed. Although, if I learnt more moves over the years, I wouldn't remember them, would I?"

"True."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Welcome," Harry said to the sixth years. "Today, we'll have an interesting class."

The students looked at one another, interested. Harry waved a wand, and the desks disappeared.

"No need for tables today," he said.

He split the class in two, and sent them to opposite walls, so they faced each other. He stood in the middle, between them.

"In the course of your lives, you could find yourselves facing very powerful unknown spells. What will you do?"

"We're screwed," someone said. The class laughed.

"Perhaps," Harry said. "If it's the same as anyone else, then why didn't someone learnt a powerful spell from Russia, or South Africa, and used it on Voldemort? The war would've ended a long time earlier."

The class was silent.

"There is a way to deal with unknown spells," Harry explained. "While each spell has it's own effects, magic can be categorised. Certain spells are similar to one another. Thereby similar, if not the same, block can be used to defend against the similar spells. Otherwise, we'd have to learn a block for every type of spell, which could number in the thousands. And you'd still lose a duel simply because a new spell was used on you. Very, very, impractical.

"No," he continued. "We must be able to categorise spells. But how?"

"By keeping them in memory?" asked a student.

"Typical Ravenclaw," muttered Harry.

"What did you say?" asked the boy.

"Nothing," said Harry quickly. "While that would work, it would also be impractical. You'd still have to memorise it. Imagine trying to defend a spell that was cast in a duel by trying to search your class notes in your head. The spell would've hit you in most cases."

"Then how, sir?"

"By feeling it," Harry said, and the students began to mutter. "Let me explain. Magic is alot about feeling. You feel spells. Some spells even require a certain emotion to work, like the Patronus. By feeling different spells, you'll notice certain similarities between some of them. Then you'll use a block that is suitable for that particular class."

"One problem sir?"

"What would that be?" asked Harry.

"How does one feel a spell?"

"Ah," waved Harry away. "You've been taught too much about wand waving and getting the words right. You have no idea how powerful your spells can get if you take the time to stop and feel how the spell feels as it exits your body. It's indescribable, no muggle would understand it. That's why I asked you to line up.

"To each of you, I shall provide a spell. Cast it in turns with the student in front of you, who is assigned the same spell as you. Cast it with your eyes closed. Concentrate on the spell leaving your body. You should feel something. Well, not today, but on persistent casting, you'll understand what I mean. Once you know what you're looking for, it'll get easier.

"After this, I'll teach you about how wizards discriminated against one another using a class system."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Welcome back to the show," the host said to the camera. "With the rising crisis in Britain, we have gotten a guest willing to give the magical opinion. This is the first time we could get a magical person over here, thus we are very pleased to welcome..." he looked at his notes, "Harry Potter!"

The crowd applauded politely as the handsome young man smiled, and nodded at them from his seat at the table.

"Tell me Mr. Potter," began the host as the applause died down quickly. "What's your position in the magical society?"

"I'm a professor," Harry explained.

"Oh," said the host, disappointed. "Forgive me, I was hoping for someone with a bit more power than an instructor."

"No need to lower teachers, as I'm sure many of your viewers will agree with," Harry said smiling. "But I'm very familiar with the magical society, and they with me."

"Really?" asked the host. "Are you a celebrity?"

"Celebrities aren't held to a very respectable position in this world, are they? Sure they're rich and famous, but insulted almost daily in the papers and telly. I'm somewhat of a celebrity myself in the magical world (and sometimes treated just as bad as the celebrities here), but the magical society owes me for a favour I've done for them."

"Can you clarify?" asked the host.

"Sorry, I'm not authorised. Suffice to say, it was a slippery situation."

"Very well. What can you tell us about the magical world?"

"I wanted to tell your viewers, that we are no harm to them," Harry said, now facing the camera. "We are just like you, apart from being able to perform magic. We have schools and shops. We have banks and our own currency. We have adults and children. We have a functioning government and law enforcements. We even have our own sport, as popular as football. Well, not that popular.

"What I want to tell you is that, throughout history's, man's lack of knowledge of another race or religion has resulted in terrible deeds. Such prejudice is not only unwanted, it's detrimental to the survival of the British Isles, if not the world. Just like you, we have extreme elements of the society stating that a conflict is inevitable and sides must be taken. I ask why? When one person shouts, and a thousand are silent, who gets heard? Too long has the vocal minority been aloud to scream out their views, which are dangerous to both our worlds. It's time for us who desire peace to shout."

"Don't you have the power to attack us? How do you know we won't?" asked the host.

"We are not that numerous, and cannot risk a war with non-wizards," said Harry. "Also, why haven't we attacked before? We didn't just pop out of nowhere. We've been around for many, many centuries, if not millennia. Had we wished, we could've started a war when most of you did not know of our existence. Since we haven't, it serves us no purpose for us to attack when you know of our existence, much less prepared for war."

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Potter," remarked the host.

"If you'll allow me one more thing..." offered Harry.

"Please do."

"The more powerful wizards and witches do not wish any conflict. I must stress that none be started. Keep watch over your government. We are not weak, despite our numbers. We will not allow witch-hunts to begin again. Leave us alone, and we'll leave you alone.

"I wish you all a good day."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What the hell was that all about?" roared a man as he stormed through the door, slamming it shut behind him.

"Who the bugger are you?" asked Harry at his desk, not surprised at the entrance. "Do you dare enter my office without permission, and in such a manner?"

Harry voice was calm, but the words reminded the man just who he was yelling at.

"I'm sorry sir," he said. "I am Quentin Carter, one of the secretary's to the Head Minister."

"Since when did it become Head Minister?" Harry asked in disgust. "Is the government trying to change the fact that the Minister of Magic traditionally answers to the Prime Minister? Forget it. Why are you here?"

"What were you doing in the muggle public? You broke secrecy laws!"

"No, I didn't," said Harry. "Everything I said was either already known, or personal. I have the right to reveal my personal views to whom I please."

"That's besides the point," blustered the secretary. "The way things are going, this is the worst time to do this."

"No," Harry disagreed. "This was the best time to do this. Too long have the governments been letting the situation deteriorate. It's time for more level-headed people to take charge of the matter."

"Are you criticising the magical government?" asked Carter, rising to full height.

"And what if I am?" asked Harry softly. "I was the only one capable of defeating Voldemort. Many in the present government played no part in that. How will you deal with me?"

"Is that a threat?"

"I wouldn't be scared to say it was. Take it as a warning. You're incompetence with Polanar and the muggles will go on no longer..."

Harry stood up, and became silent. The feeling surrounded him. He felt his shoulders stiffen. Who could have cast it? Harry himself only learnt it from Dumbledore, in some papers his former headmaster left to him in his will. He never met someone else who heard of it.

"Mr. Potter?" asked Carter. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine, thank you," said Harry. "I just remembered an appointment that I'm late for. We can continue this later."

"Okay," answered the secretary.

"You know your way out. Next time, make an appointment, or I won't see you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was late in the night when the teenagers stepped out of the McDonald's.

"Oi Peter!" a girl said.

"Yeah, Sarah?" replied a boy.

"Could you call your mum to drop us off on her way back from work?"

"Sure," he said, and got a mobile phone from his pocket. He stopped dialing when he looked across the street. In the darkness, in front of a closed shop, stood four people.

"Are they wearing cloaks?" asked the other girl.

The cloaked figures crossed the street.

"Can we help you?" asked Sarah.

One of them raised an arm, and the three kids fell silent. Sarah tried desperately to move, but her limbs failed her. What was going on?

"What shall we do now, sir?" spoke one of the cloaked people, with a feminine voice.

"We wait," was the reply.

Sarah tried to scream, she tried to thrash about, but to no avail. It was as if her will had vanished. She gave up. There was nothing she could do. A tear crawled down her cheek.

Suddenly, she regained the use of her limbs. A voice, without body, whispered chillingly in her ear.

"Do not move, all three of you. When I make my entrance, run. Stop fidgeting, Peter."

She had no choice but to trust the voice. The cloaked freaks would stop them again if they knew they were free. She felt her friend, Mary, shivering beside her. The unknown person then made his move.

The street was awash with light. The figures covered their eyes to block out the undesired light.

"Wizards and witches," called a voice, from behind the light. "What have these young ones done to deserve your assault?"

Harry cringed. He did sound pompous, but he had to give them no reason to suspect his identity.

"Sir," one of them said. "The kids are gone."

"Leave them," came the reply. "They have served their purpose."

"They were bait?" asked Harry. "How did you know I would notice it."

"I suspected you were a powerful wizard, taking on the wizards and muggles," replied the, possibly male, leader. "Thus, you'd notice the Reblem spell, when most would not."

"Who are you?" asked Harry.

"That is of no concern to you," said the leader. "What I want of you, is."

"And what might that be?" was Harry's question.

"For you to die."

Without warning, the leader sent the killing curse out to the direction of the voice. The light quickly disappeared.

"Where'd he go?" asked one of the figures. He looked to his left, and gasped. The colleague beside him was down. Probably dead.

Spells were yelled out, illuminating the dark street. The cloaked wizard saw a shadow move in front of him. He raised his wand, aimed... and felt a great pain at the back of his neck. He then saw black.

"Sir?" asked the last of the cloaked figure, frightened, to his boss.

"Do not panic," warned the leader. "You may as well sign your death form if you do."

"Si... aaaaargh!" screamed the wizard as a shadow covered him.

The leader was alone, and tried to face as many directions as he could, turning swiftly around.

"What is your purpose?" asked a voice, and a person came out from the shadows. Try as he might, the leader could not look at the face properly.

"Why won't you kill me, like you killed my workers?" asked the cloaked leader.

"You're not as weak as them, Polanar," said the man. "I wish to know of your purpose. Voldemort had one. Potter had one. Dumbledore had one. But you are an unknown, and I do hate unknowns."

"You know who I am?" gasped the cloaked leader.

"It screams out of you, despite the cloth on your face" laughed the unknown wizard. "You may have been a top level Death Eater, but you have no idea what is power."

"If you know of who I am, then why won't you kill me?"

"I want to know what you want."

"It doesn't concern you."

"It does," snapped the wizard, and Polanar felt his body heat up. "And if you give me attitude, I'll make you regret it."

Polanar waved his wand, and the heat vanished, instead sent back to his assailant.

"You can counter an ancient Egyptian spell?" asked the wizard, surprised. "Impressive. Perhaps I was wrong about you."

"Enough!" Polanar yelled. "You will meet me again, I promise you." He quickly apparated away.

Harry looked at the darkness thoughtfully. There was no point stopping Polanar yet. He wanted Harry to show up, by letting out the spell. Why? Was he just curious, or is there a plan behind all this? The fact that he was a Voldemort supporter didn't help things.

What place did he fit in all this? Pro-wizard, pro-muggle, or pro-himself? That was the least of the things that confused him. There was one baffling thing, which shocked Harry to his very core. He almost lost control of the situation. No, it wasn't the fact that Polanar apparated through Harry's powerful anti-apparition wards.

How on earth was Polanar a muggle-born?

A/N: Hope this was a good chapter.

The introduction to this story ends here. Now, to the meat and potatoes (I hope you like potatoes if your a vegetarian). What do you think? I would appreciate any thoughts on my style of writing. Are there any characters you wish to see more of?

It seems that I prefer to write chapters that are around 3000-4000 words. I think that's about fine. What about you?

Please review. I write this hoping people are reading.