Harry Potter and the Wizard of Ashenbenford

by Arthur Hansen

AU Order of the Phoenix, with a twist.

2. Plots and punishments

Harry Potter and the Wizard of Ashenbenford - 2

-

Orel Maresk looked over his work. He'd finally finished cleaning the mess up on the floor from one of Peeve's pranks. The moon gleamed through the darkened windows of the upper hallways of Hogwarts. The last several weeks had not been fun for him. He had lost fifty house points because of his anger and two weeks of detention with various staff members.

Orel wasn't the only one with detentions. Harry had his own, too. Their tempers were starting to seriously affect their studying ability. His own outburst in Divinations a day later had landed him a very severe detention. And a fine. He had even heard from Professor McGonagall that he may have to attend a hearing with the Ministry for the 'serious misuse of magic'.

Mr. Filch stepped out of a secret passage suddenly. He gave the student a very hard look. After a moment, he glanced at the floor. "Almost passable. I still wish that Professor Dumbledore would let me hang you by my chains. But I've still gotcha for another day or two, don't I?"

"That's not a very productive detention, is it? I wouldn't be helping you with anything." The young wizard stood up and kneaded his back.

The caretaker just gave him a nasty look. "Get you back to your common rooms. You might even have enough time to do your school work and a couple of hours of sleep," he said with a nasty smile.

Orel just nodded as he walked away. In just a few minutes, he was in front of the Fat Lady saying the password.

"Hello, Orel," Harry Potter said from in front of the fire. Hermione and Ron were both there, reading in their cushy chairs.

"What are you guys doing up?" Orel tossed himself into a chair with a groan.

"Just making sure you're all right." Harry reached into a pocket to pull out a little bell. "I got this from Dobby. That way I don't have to go to the kitchen to steal some food and coffee."

"Dobby thought it would be safer for Harry Potter not to be caught out in the corridors after curfew. So he made it and gave it a gift." Hermione smiled while she looked over her book.

Ron seemed lost in thought as he went over his book. Too bad, it wasn't a schoolbook, but one of his Quidditch books.

Harry rang the little bell. About a minute later, the house-elf appeared with a cracking sound. He was carrying a little tray of drinks.

Orel shook himself out of his stupor. "By the way, Hermione? Or Dobby? Why are you called house elves? You don't look a thing like the elves from my lands." He'd been wondering for the longest time, but he didn't think that Harry had a clue and didn't feel it was necessary to research on the odd little creatures. He took one of the mugs from Dobby.

"Er, they don't?" Hermione said as she took her own mug. She looked flustered for not knowing something so very important about one of her causes.

"Master Maresk, Dobby is very sorry to say that house-elves are not allowed to speak of such things. Even such as I who is free." Dobby's eyes looked at him very sorrowfully.

Hermione and Orel's eyebrows twitched into a deep furrowed thought.

"I wish I knew how to speak Elven," the Dale-Lander muttered to himself.

"Elves have their own language?" Ron queried, clearly unnerved by the thought.

"Yes, but house-elves are not allowed to teach humans the language." Dobby looked very sorrowful.

"Thank you, Dobby. You'd better run along and make sure Winky hasn't gotten herself into trouble." Harry smiled for Dobby's benefit.

With a crack, the house-elf disappeared. They spent a few minutes sipping and thinking of the strange encounter they'd just had.

Orel finally groaned as he pulled out his homework from Transfiguration. It really shouldn't be the hardest class he had, but he was not doing as well as he'd hoped.

Harry pulled out his own essay on Potions that was due in several days. In just an hour Harry and Ron were finished. "We'll see you tomorrow?" he asked.

Hermione and Orel just nodded as the two other boys headed up to the dorm rooms.

The girl looked up intently. "Orel?"

"Yes?" he answered absently. They really should have codified wand movements like music notes. At least for most gestures.

"Would you like to meet us in Hogsmeade on the first weekend?"

Orel looked up in surprise. "Er? Who is us?"

"Oh, just some people that may be interested in learning how to properly do Defense Against the Dark Arts. We'll be meeting at the Hogshead Tavern." Hermione seemed quite self-assured and confident.

"Who are you getting to teach them?" he asked. He scribbled another line as she answered.

"I'm trying to convince Harry to do it. He doesn't think that he's good at it, but I know he has it in him. He's a great wizard." Hermione looked out to the night sky through the small windows. "And I've had a lot of interest from other students. That Umbridge is not going to ruin my OWLs!" she said furiously.

"A great wizard?" Orel raised an eyebrow at that.

"Well, he is. You know he's done things that full adults have failed to do. He's very brave and very caring. And-"

The dark-haired boy narrowed his eyes at her as he interrupted. "You love him."

Hermione gaped, totally dumbfounded. "What are you talking about?"

Orel just stared at her intently.

"What if I do? He doesn't care about me that way! He's only got eyes for another...girl." Her brown eyes seemed so haunted. "I'm just Hermione. One of his best friends."

"I thought you were a Gryffindor for bravery? You haven't even tried to tell him how you feel, have you?" He scribbled another line of his homework. "You should, if you haven't."

Hermione looked blankly off into the distance. She nodded to Orel. "You won't tell him? Please?"

"I won't volunteer it. If he asks, I'll answer."

Hermione didn't look happy at that. "I guess I will have to live with that."

-

The final week before the first weekend off the grounds seemed to take forever with all the schoolwork they did. But finally, the morning of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright but windy. After they had queued up for Filches line, they finally walked out of the castle.

"How did you sign yourself out?" Ron asked in shock after they were let loose.

"I'm an orphan that has no home, no family and no one who would take me any ways. Besides, I paid to attend Hogwarts on my own." Orel just smirked at that.

"Wicked!"

Orel's smile hid a very worried heart. He hadn't considered that he wasn't an adult until he'd had to be checked out by Filch. He wasn't even terribly sure exactly when his birthday was! Luckily, his bravado had bulled through the caretaker's ignorance of this particular situation.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Harry asked. "The Three Broomsticks?"

"Oh no," said Hermione, "No, it's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, and it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit... you know... dodgy... but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

Soon they were in front of the rather shabby building. "Well, come on," said Hermione, slightly nervously. Harry led the way inside.

Orel took one look around and then followed them to the bar. His eyes narrowed at the woman sitting at the bar, her face totally covered in a veil. The bar was quite small and not really very crowded.

"I don't know about this, Hermione," Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. He was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. "Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?"

The Dalelander leaned closer to them. "That is not a woman," he said in a voice just above a whisper.

Hermione looked stunned. "How can you tell?"

Orel shook his head. "Not right now. Bars like this have ears."

The barman sidled towards them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long gray hair and a beard.

"What?" he grunted.

"Four Butterbeers, please," said Hermione.

The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar.

"Eight Sickles," he said.

Harry quickly paid before anyone could argue. The barman's eyes traveled over Harry, resting for a fraction of a second on his scar. Then he turned away and deposited Harry's money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it. They retreated to the furthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around. The man in the dirty gray bandages rapped the counter with his knuckles and received another smoking drink from the barman.

"What do you mean that wasn't a woman?" Hermione whispered.

"It's a man. I can barely make out some features under that veil."

They looked at him incredulously. He shrugged back at them. "I'm wearing magic lenses. They're useful for spotting traps and ambushes."

Hermione looked like she was going to argue, but thought better of it. You could almost see her mind churning as she thought of the possibilities.

"So, who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his Butterbeer and taking a swig. His palms were suddenly hot and damp. This was turning out to be far more than he'd expected already. A spy in the bar they just happened to be in?

"Just a couple of people," Hermione replied, checking her watch and looking anxiously towards the door. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is - oh, look, this might be them now."

Orel narrowed his eyes and glanced around. "This is too open and too easy to be overheard here." He mumbled something under his breath and his face took on a look of intense concentration.

It suddenly seemed a large crowd had wandered in all of a sudden. A veritable gaggle of students wandered in, most people that Orel didn't recognize. Even a few adults and some sort of traveling entertainer walked in, too. The woman dropped her cloak to reveal an exotic outfit of silks that clung to her body.

"A couple of people?" asked Harry hoarsely to Hermione as he took in all the students. "A couple of people?"

The bar man had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full.

The exotic woman walked up to the bar to haggle with the bartender about doing an impromptu performance. The young adults behind her waited a bit impatiently. With a curt nod, the bartender motioned to the corner near the door. She walked over and musical instruments floated out of a pouch and started to tune themselves. The noise level jumped extraordinarily when she started to sing. Oddly, her singing voice was only of average quality.

"Hi," said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, "could we have… twenty-five Butterbeers, please?" He got the group to give him the money for the Butterbeers.

In twos and threes, the new arrivals settled around them, some looking rather excited, others curious, Luna Lovegood gazing dreamily into space. When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was upon Harry.

Behind them, two men sat down and started having an animated conversation in a foreign language. Their voices were raised a little loudly, and Fred winced as he was sitting right next to them.

"Er," said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. "Well - er - hi."

The group focused its attention on her instead, though eyes continued to dart back regularly to Harry.

"Well… erm… well, you know why you're here. Erm... well, Harry here had the idea – I mean," (Harry had thrown her a sharp look) "I had the idea - that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts - and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us –" (Hermione's voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) "- because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts –" ('Hear, hear,' said Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione looked heartened) "- Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands."

Orel half-listened to Hermione making her pitch to the group. He turned to Fred (or was it George?) and asked him, "Could you sneak these onto that table right there?" The young man handed Fred six Sickles.

"Er, why?" he whispered to Orel, most of his attention on Hermione and Harry.

"Because my illusions can't pay the bartender for their fire whiskey," he replied, his face very tight in concentration.

"Right then." Fred was suddenly watching Orel much closer. He leaned back and slipped the coin onto the table. A quick glance around him confirmed no one was really watching and he put his hand through the back of the man sitting there. He pulled it out quickly.

His twin looked over at him, wondering what the cause of his expression of awe was.

"Not, now!" Orel almost snapped. He was starting to sweat a bit. This was a new, very powerful spell he'd finally figured out. It was taking quite a strain to maintain the concentration and listen to Harry snap at Zacharias. He turned directly to the belligerent boy. "Do you want to be able to defend yourself and pass Defense against the Dark Arts?"

Zacharias looked startled and a little afraid. "Well, yes-"

Fred and George looked like they were about to rip into him.

"Then that's all you should really care about why. If you want to ask Harry politely later what happened to him on that night, in private mind you, he may actually answer." Orel's brow was starting to have sweat bead on his forehead. This shouldn't have been this hard.

"Are you all right?" Susan Bones asked.

Orel just nodded.

"Yes, well," said Hermione hastily, "moving on… the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

Orel let the conversation about scheduling and conspiracies drift over him. He failed to notice the tremor in his hands.

"Orel, Hermione wants you to sign this parchment. You did listen to that part, didn't you?" Neville asked as he slid the parchment and pen to him.

He nodded as he started to sign. His fingers almost seemed to tingle a little as he touched the parchment. Orel's eyes suddenly narrowed as he looked at the list more closely. He threw a quick glance at Hermione before he very deliberately signed. Zacharias finally signed as the last person, obviously unhappy with his name being put on the paper.

Everyone broke up as they grabbed their Butterbeers or finished them quickly. Orel's face was still tight with concentration. Fred and George waited for the quartet.

"Say, Orel? Could you tell me how you did that?" Fred whispered just loud enough that their group could hear.

George crinkled his forehead in consternation. "What are you being daft about now, Fred?" he asked in a blandly pleasant voice.

"Orel did an illusion of those two blokes there," the other twin replied with a smug expression.

Harry, Hermione and the remaining Weasleys snatched startled looks around them. "What?" Ron exclaimed.

"Outside, please." Orel stood up and shuffled to the door. He caught himself at the door and shook his head.

"Hey, mate? You all right?" Ron asked, suddenly worried.

"I'll be fine in just a second." As soon as Orel had led the group down the road a small way, he relaxed. "That's better."

"What's better?" Hermione asked in a very confused.

Orel smirked as he rounded on them. "I had to think fast to cover our conversation a bit there. So I whipped up a loud crowd." He cricked his fingers. "Bloody hell on my concentration though. I almost lost it when Fred here stuck his hand in one of my illusions."

"How many people were real in there?" Hermione asked.

"No one who wasn't there before that gaggle of students you invited. So the bard, the duo and the family that wandered in about halfway were all illusions. They should be fading any moment now." Orel glanced back at the Hogshead Bar. "I wonder what they'll think when they disappear?"

"That is some seriously wicked magic, mate. You've got to show us that spell!" Fred and George exclaimed in unison.

"It's... something of my own devising. I haven't totally worked out all the issues." Orel turned towards Hermione. "So what was up with the enchanted parchment?"

Everyone was staring at Hermione suddenly. She had a panicked look as she quickly checked around. "How did you know?" she asked defensively.

"It's actually part of learning to divine something of a magical nature. I'm sensitive enough to know when something is magical."

"Hermione?" Harry asked, obviously confused and upset.

"I jinxed the parchment so that if anyone blabs, we'll know. I did it to protect the group!" She looked at Harry with such a pleading look that he was mollified.

"Our Hermione has a degree of low cunning that we hadn't suspected, hasn't she Fred?" George asked with a grin.

"Indeed! That was a true act of genius and underhandedness!"

The twins suddenly bowed. "We abase ourselves in you presence!"

"Oh, you two are so horrible!" Hermione said, obviously embarrassed with a bit of pink on her cheeks. She did have a small smile on her face. She turned to look at a window, noticing a display of quills. "Let's go in here."

Fred and George waved as they walked off, not following the quartet into the shop.

"Hey, Harry? What's this?" Orel asked as he looked at a little box in the back.

"That looks like a Muggle calligraphy set. Look, it even has the ink refills and all." Harry just grinned at his new friend's confusion.

"Refill?" Was that an arcane word? No, he said it was a Muggle thing.

"There's a place that will hold some ink inside of it. That way you don't have to dip it-"

"That's an amazing idea! Why hasn't anyone thought of it before?" The young man snapped it up in a heartbeat and headed to the shopkeeper. "And you say that is was Muggles that invented it?" Orel looked up to realize that he'd lost Harry, as it looked like Hermione had grabbed him.

Ron walked over from where Hermione was chatting with Harry. "Hey, Orel? Hermione said she wanted to ask Harry some things and that they'd catch up to us. How about we grab some candies."

And that was how Orel Maresk was introduced to the wonder of wizarding candies from Honey Dukes, the candy shop of Hogsmeade.

-

They had wandered over to the Three Broomsticks after they purchased some candies. Ron and Orel were just starting to settle down when Professor McGonagall found them. "There you are Orel. I'm afraid that I will have to ask you to accompany me now."

Orel waved to Ron. "Tell Harry and Hermione I'm off with her, will you?"

"Sure, mate!" Ron seemed to be put out, but took it with good cheer.

"Mr. Maresk, I received an owl today from the Ministry of Magic. They have set up an inquiry and hearing for tomorrow. You will need to catch the Hogwarts Express in just an hour to London. I suppose you will have to stay at an inn until your appointment. You will be late for school Monday, I dare say." Professor McGonagall was pushing her way through a gaggle of students. She seemed very tense and upset.

"I don't have to take the Hogwarts Express, do I?" Orel asked as he followed behind her.

"No, you could take a broom, but that is very uncomfortable over such a long distance. And there's the danger of being spotted, of course."

They were nearing the carriages that would take them back to Hogwarts. "If I knew a spell that would take me there, I could use it instead. Couldn't I?"

"Mr. Maresk, you are not allowed to Apparate or Disapparete! You are not licensed or old enough! And Portkey's are a highly regulated and difficult spell for a fully qualified wizard. Which you are not yet!" She seemed to be affronted by his suggestion.

"And if I could cast a different spell? One from my homeland?" Orel rolled his eyes.

"Then you might be safe to cast it. It is a long distance to London. You are sure you won't get lost?"

"No. I need to go to St. Mungo's any ways."

McGonagall nodded; her expression suddenly grim. "Ah, yes. That would be a good idea."

-

Orel looked up from his list of directions at the odd little 'phone' box. Shrugging, he dialed the number as it said and lifted the 'receiver'. He squinted into the morning sunlight.

"State you name and purpose to the Ministry of Magic, please." The pleasant female voice in the air seemed to be terribly bored.

"Orel Maresk for a hearing concerning an incident that happened in Hogwarts." A little badge clunked into the opening. He took it out and saw that it explained his purpose as he sunk into the depths of the ground.

After being checked through security and told where to go, he ended up in a small office down several floors. A portly man, his young assistant and an older woman sat in the office.

"Mr. Maresk? This is Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic and his personal assistant Percival Weasley. My name is Amelia Bones. I am the presiding judge in this matter."

"Very pleased to meet you," Orel said as he shook hands congenially. This seemed to surprise Fudge and Weasley.

Madam Bones read from a paper on the desk. "It has come to our attention that you caused a serious injury and a large amount of property damage to Hogwarts. How do you plead?"

"The only injuries caused because of my actions was my own broken bones and one girl who was burned by some of the mirror splattering on her. I did not realize that constituted as a 'serious' injury. Considering we were both in class later that same day. I do not plead guilty to that charge." Orel looked at the judge quite blandly. "I do plead 'guilty' to damaging the classroom. I was under the impression that the fine that I paid for its repairs was the punishment for my misdeeds, along with my detentions."

Cornelius Fudge leaned forward. "And what if it had been one of the students that had gotten you so angry that you would have blasted them with that spell?"

"Then they would have died. But I have never attacked a student. I feel much freer to vent my... anger on inanimate objects. Objects are replaceable, of course." Orel worked as hard as he could to hold back his temper.

"Due to the seriousness of this issue and the safety of the students, I do feel that we need to know if you have ever attacked anyone in the past."

"Why, yes. Of course." Orel's tone of voice was very, very bland now.

The three adults looked at the young man incredulously. "I'm sorry? Did you just admit to attacking someone?" Cornelius looked as if a goose had just laid a golden egg in front of him.

"You never asked me who I attacked, which is very important in this instance."

Madam Bones coughed loudly. "Mr. Maresk, I don't think you realize the seriousness of this issue. If we find you to be a danger to Wizarding society, your wand will be snapped and you could find yourself imprisoned. We do not hold that attacking anyone is reasonable."

Fudge had folded his fist over his mouth. He seemed quite agitated. "Yes, indeed. It is our duty to protect our children from... deviants."

"So you do not feel that destroying undead and killing bandits that threaten my life is not 'reasonable'?" the young man asked.

The red-haired young man finally looked up from his note taking. "You seriously expect us to believe that you used magic to kill bandits and monsters?"

"Of course. It is a time-treasured tradition of my lands to send their young adults out adventuring. With Orcs, Goblins and many other fell creatures in the wilderness, someone is needed to keep them from threatening our homeland." Orel was starting to look agitated and upset.

"So you are an 'Adventurer'? One who seeks out danger and treasures?" Fudge looked almost gleeful at this question.

"I am an adventurer who seeks out cures for my terminal illness!" he snapped back. "If that takes me into danger, then so be it."

"Mr. Maresk, who was the latest person you attacked or killed?" Madam Bones asked, her monocle held very tight by her squinting cheek.

"The last person? That would have had to have been a Fire Blade assassin sent to kill a... friend of mine at the behest of the Red Wizards of Thay." Orel's voice was quite strained now.

"And why did you friend have paid assassins after her? And who are these Red Wizards you are speaking of?" Fudge demanded angrily. "This is starting to sound more and more like a fairy tale."

The young man looked at them oddly. "Didn't Professor Dumbledore tell you that I come from another world?"

"Well, yes. But that sort of thing is too far fetched..."

"But you own history has mentioned places like Avalon, Heaven and Hells." Orel looked quite pleased at that fact.

Madam Bones shared a quick glance with Minister Fudge. "And how did you know that?"

"Oh, I'm researching a way home, of course. I haven't made much progress yet, but it's only been a few months. I'm sure that in just a year, I'll have figured a way home shortly. I ran across Avalon in my readings."

"Have you ever attacked anyone willfully with intent to murder them?"

"Of course not. I am not a murderer." Orel found that it was mildly repellent to him, now that it was brought up in such a manner. That was odd, he thought to himself. In the past, it would not have been the thought of murdering somebody that would have stopped him, but getting caught. Ah, well.

"And all the people and things that you killed were justified?" she asked again.

He squinted his eyes in thought. "I believe so. About the only time that was even remotely questionable was that ship's captain that was colluding with an evil wizard and undead pirates from a ship I sank. And that was just because I went with my instincts that told me he was in on the scam before I totally checked everything out."

"And you sunk the undead pirate ship?" Fudge asked incredulously.

"Oh, yes. Sailing ships catch fire marvelously at three hundred paces. Probably one of my better fireball spells, if I say so myself."

"Madam Bones, if I may? Mr. Maresk... I don't know that I should allow you to return to Hogwarts. You seem to have a violent streak, from what you told us. Now, I might be willing to overlook this a bit... if you gave us an inside tip about what Dumbledore is planning."

"I'm sorry; did you just ask me to spy for you?"

Fudge nodded. "I have it on reputable sources that Dumbledore is looking to destabilize the Ministry of Magic so that he can supplant it with something of his own devising. I need better information. Potter is being used as a cat's paw of Dumbledore. You've become a bit of a friend of the young Potter, haven't you?"

"Well, I am in the same house and year," Orel said quietly. He did not like the way this was turning.

"If you promised that you would give us a head's up about Dumbledore's plan against the Ministry, then I could see what we could do to let you go back to Hogwarts. Perhaps even have someone check into spells that might return you to your home."

"So if I promised that I would tell you about anything that Dumbledore is doing to subvert the Ministry of Magic illegally, I could return?" Well, that was an easy enough promise to make. From what Harry and Hermione had told him, Dumbledore didn't care about Fudge's little regime except for the fact that it wasn't dealing with Voldemort effectively.

"Yes. We would have to have you promise under the most powerful truth potion. I happen to have some with me, right here."

Madam Bones looked shocked at that. "Minister Fudge?"

"Don't worry, Madam. This is just to verify that Mr. Maresk is telling us the truth."

-

The next Monday came soon, along with classes. Harry's owl, Hedwig, showed up in their History of Magic class with an injury and a letter, but that seemed to be rather quiet, really. Orel ignored Umbridge when she showed up check out their potion's class. He had to keep poking Harry to get him back to working on his potion. It was just lucky that he managed to save his potion from a serious mess up.

Their divination's class was in an uproar. Umbridge had put Professor Trelawney on probation. While their class was busy trying to read their Oracle as best as possible, Orel thought about what he should do here. He didn't particularly like this class, as it really seemed to be more guesswork and reliance of an inborn trait that most students weren't going to have. Finally, he decided that he really didn't have a good way of salvaging her career. At least not without tipping of his non-wand magic.

That evening, after Fred and George made a small fortune selling their gag candies in the common room until late, the four of them were sitting in front of the fire doing homework again. Orel was giving Harry a bit of help, until a head appeared in the fire again.

"Oh, you're back?" Orel asked.

"Er, yes. Hedwig carried a message that he would Floo us tonight again. Sirius, is everything all right?" Harry asked as he kneeled in front of the fire.

"Yes. It seems you've got people curious, after what happened at the Hog's Head on Saturday. Strange illusions and disappearing patrons," Sirius said from the fireplace that was filled with green flames.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "And how do you know about anything there?"

"Mundungus was there, of course. Under-"

Harry interrupted his godfather gleefully, "That was him under that witch's getup?"

Sirius definitely seemed surprised at their knowledge. "How did you know that?"

"Orel spotted him. He took precautions so that we wouldn't be overheard because of it," Hermione explained.

"Clever lad. And what was it that you talking about that required covering it up quite so noisily?" the man in the fire asked.

"I'm still being followed?" asked Harry angrily.

"Yes. For your own safety. You Know Who still has followers that would love to get back at you to earn his favor. You never answered what you were doing there. What was so dreadfully important that you couldn't let yourself be overheard?"

Harry sat back, obviously fuming. Hermione spoke up with, "We're starting a self-defense club."

"So," said Sirius, "how are you organizing this group? Where are you meeting?"

"Well, that's a bit of a problem now," said Harry grumpily. "Dunno where we're going to be able to go."

"Oh," said Sirius, frowning. "Perhaps the Shrieking Shack. Well, I'll have a think and get back to -"

He broke off. His face was suddenly tense, alarmed. He turned sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace.

"Sirius?" said Harry suddenly anxious.

But he had vanished. Harry gaped at the flames for a moment, and then turned to look at Ron and Hermione.

"Leave the room, quickly!" Orel snapped.

The four of them ran for it. At the door of the boys' dormitory Harry and Orel looked back.

Pudgy hands were making snatching movements amongst the flames, as though they knew exactly where Sirius's hair had been moments before and were determined to seize it.

-

During their next charm's class, they discussed what had happened.

"Silencio!" Ron cried out, trying to silence a crow.

"Like this," Orel explained. He carefully waved and then jabbed his wand with exaggerated movements. "Silencio! The little jab at the end is important. It's how you aim the jinx."

Hermione had her bullfrog already silenced. "Someone is reading your mail, Harry."

"How do you figure?" he replied glumly. He miscast his spell on his frog.

"I suspected as much when you told us that Filch accusing you of ordering dungbombs." Hermione hastily silenced Harry's expanding toad.

"That makes sense. It also goes along with Fudge wanting me to spy on you to let me back into Hogwarts." Orel tapped his lips with his pointing finger thoughtfully.

The other three looked at him in alarm. "He what?" Harry cried out. He quickly lowered his voice at Flitwick's glare.

"I, of course, promised him that I would tell him immediately if Dumbledore made any illegal moves against the right and proper Ministry of Magic. This isn't going to happen, from what you've said. So it was an easy promise to make."

"Crikey, how did you get him to believe you?" Ron hissed out softly.

"Truth potion. And really, if Dumbledore was going to unlawfully move to replace the Ministry of Magic, I would feel compelled to let someone know. That wouldn't be... right." Orel suddenly looked out the window. "There I go doing it again. Making a right choice. Some evil wizard I am."

"You aren't evil, Orel. You may have a bit of a temper, but that doesn't make you evil." Hermione just smiled at him before looking back to Harry. She poked him to get him to try and silence his frog again.

Ron finally got his crow to caw softly.

"Almost there, Ron. And I know I'm an evil wizard. I was driven out of my home by the local priest. He almost convinced the peasants to stone me, but I managed to slip out the day before he could capture me."

"How could your priest know that you were evil, Orel?" the bushy-haired girl asked interestedly.

"Priests from my lands know things like that. Their gods give them the power to look into the hearts of man and monster." Orel's knuckles tightened on the edge of his table.

"But you aren't the same boy from then, are you?" Harry asked. "You really don't seem like a bad chap. You've even stuck up for me about Umbridge."

"I hate her and what she's trying to do," Orel explained.

"So do we, but that doesn't make us evil," Ron said in a tone that he wasn't really paying total attention. He finally silenced his crow. "Got it!"

"Besides, anyone that can help Ron learn a new spell like that isn't a bad person at all!" Hermione said with a laugh that Harry joined in a moment later.

-

Orel was quite happy the next evening when they had their first meeting. He followed Harry as he led Hermione, Ron and himself up to the seventh floor. After checking with the Marauder Map that it was clear, they opened a door that suddenly appeared in the hallway after they concentrated.

"Merlin's Beard! This room is huge!" Ron exclaimed. "And why is it got a load of crap in here?"

"But look at the books!" Hermione enthused gleefully.

The room they were in was quite huge, stretching over a hundred and fifty feet and fifty feet wide. It was high and vaulted, with wooden crossbeams above their heads. On the wall near them were bookshelves and strange magical devices.

"It must stretch time and space," Orel muttered to himself. "And for why it is so big, that's probably my fault. You can't properly learn combat magic for twenty-nine people in a classroom. There's not enough room."

"But... why the clutter?" Hermione asked even as Harry just grinned.

"Harry knows, I bet."

"You're thinking a little too simply, Hermione. I ducked behind a gravestone when Voldemort tried to kill me. You have to use the area you are in to the best effect." Harry looked over the library of Dark Art book, quite happy with what he saw.

"That makes sense, I guess. Where did you learn this sort of thing, Orel?" she asked as she started to flip through a book.

"Just the forest near my town. Nearly got me killed by a goblin, actually. But I managed to take it out before it could gut me with a spear."

"Oh? Goblins and Wizards don't like each other where you are from either?" Ron asked as he slouched along, checking the room.

The Dalelander snorted. "Our human and goblin make your little goblin revolts look like a tea party. Orc, Goblins and other humanoids have been doing their best to wipe each other out for thousands of years. Then you get the really nasty monsters that just want to kill everything else, and well, you have my home."

"Orel! Hundreds of people died in those revolts! How can you belittle them like that," Hermione said, scandalized it seemed.

Harry and Ron looked on in wary interest.

Orel replied unashamedly, "Hermione, the wars that different nations of humans have fought against just the goblins and orcs have probably had thousands of deaths in the last twenty years."

"Has no one tried to agree to a peaceful solution?" she asked.

"Their gods want us dead. Orcs hate elves especially. Goblins hate halfling, gnomes and dwarves almost as fiercely. And humans are hated because we're basically the most successful nation-builders in the last several thousand years."

"What did their gods do, come down and tell them specifically to go kill you?" Hermione rolled her eyes theatrically.

"Er, yes. Don't yours?" Orel looked between the three in surprise.

"Most of Wizarding society doesn't really believe in God. And God doesn't just come down like that, I guess." Hermione suddenly looked very unsure.

"Don't you have priests that can cure almost any illness, any injury? That deal with things like undead?"

They were interrupted by a knocking on the door. As each new group arrived, they would start to explain about the room but have to restart when the next group arrived. They were all quite impressed by the room

"Well," said Harry, slightly nervously. "This is the place we've found for practice sessions, and you've - er - obviously found it okay."

"It's fantastic!" said Cho, and several people murmured their agreement.

"It's bizarre," said Fred, frowning around at it. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then."

"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" asked Dean from one side of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass.

"Dark detectors," said Harry, stepping between the cushions to reach them. "Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled..."

He gazed for a moment into the cracked Foe-Glass; shadowy figures were moving around inside it, though none was recognizable. He turned his back on it.

"Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and - er -" He noticed a raised hand.

"What, Hermione?"

"I think we ought to elect a leader," said Hermione.

"Harry's leader!" said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad.

"It is important that we set these things up first though. I agree that Harry would be the best leader," Orel said from his cushion.

"It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So... everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?" said Hermione, unperturbed. At the raise of hands, she nodded. "I think we should also pick a name for our group. For team spirit and such."

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" said Angelina hopefully.

"Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?" suggested Fred.

"I was thinking," said Hermione, frowning at Fred, "more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings."

"The Defense Association?" said Cho. "The DA for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

"Yeah, the DA's good," said Ginny. "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army, because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

"A name is a very important thing, Ginny. We may decide on that as a joke, but it could come back to haunt us," Orel said sharply. "It can take on its own life and we may become what we name ourselves."

"I think Dumbledore's Army is a fine name," George said loftily. "And if it comes true, well, that's just the Ministry's fault, isn't it?"

A lot of people laughed at that. The name was passed almost unanimously at that point. Harry got everyone to start practicing a very basic spell after explaining the importance of its use to Zacharias.

Orel ended up practicing with Neville, who managed to disarm him. "I did it! I've never disarmed anyone before!"

"It's a new spell to me. Give me a moment, will you?" Orel practiced the spell's incantation and motion. "Ready!" They disarmed each other this time.

Harry happened to be walking by. "Very good both of you. Keep up the good work. Neville, you need to aim your spell a bit better. Orel, you're slurring a bit."

They went back to it with a will. Neville improved as quickly as Orel did, both had it down pat by the end of the session before they had to sneak back to their dorms.

-

Nothing much of interest occurred until the first Quidditch match of the year in November except for Hermione's giving out fake galleons that would allow them to know when the next meeting was going to be happening. Everyone was quite impressed by that bit of magic, as it was transfiguration magic only a fully qualified witch or wizard was supposed to be capable of mastering. A NEWT standard spell.

Orel found that he actually enjoyed Quidditch. It was not quite as spectacular as non-lethal wizard dueling was at home, but it employed more teamwork. Ron seemed to be fine up until the first shot against him, which scored.

It became one-sided quite quickly, as the Slytherins scored again and again easily against the rattled keeper. It became even worse, when the Slytherins broke out into song. "Weasley is our king..." totally ruined his concentration. After just a few minutes, Harry managed to salvage the game by catching the snitch before they were out-pointed.

Orel pulled out his wand, pointed it at himself and muttered, "Methus Uip." He leaped off the edge even as Seamus yelled for him to stop. He floated at a sedate pace downward and landed with soft thump. He grinned. Another of his old spells transferred to wand-type magic.

All of the players had landed at the middle of the field, so Orel started walking towards them. He started walking quicker when it looked as if a fight might break out any moment.

"Or perhaps," Malfoy was saying, leering as he backed away, "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasleys pigsty reminds you of it-"

With a roar, Harry and one of the Weasley twins charged at Malfoy intent on beating him to within an inch of his life. Harry smashed his fist into the smirking Slytherin's face with all his hatred behind it.

"Harry! HARRY! FRED! NO!" Angelina yelled out.

Orel heard the scream, but his reaction was not to join in the fight. He pulled out his wand and muttered a powerful incantation. From behind the stands near the forest, massive trees suddenly snapped as loud as thunder and broke as a huge, deep-red saurian form broke from the forest. Gigantic, red wings spread out blotting the sky. With a tremendous roar, the scarlet dragon silenced everyone on the field.

"We're all going to die," someone said very quietly.

"Revealiosimo!" Orel shouted as a beam of scintillating light blasted the dragon. The form morphed, shifted and shrank until it was very sheepish looking pixie.

"Uh oh," it squeaked. The little winged fairy zipped around and flew back into the forest.

"You'll pay for that, Potter!" Draco shouted as he managed to shrug himself free from Harry's dazed grasp.

"Mr. Malfoy! What happened?" Madam Hootch had finally managed to interpose herself. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley! What have you done?"

"That nutter Potter attacked me!" Draco shouted as he smeared the blood from his split lip across his face. "And that thug Weasley, too!"

"I've never seen behavior like it - back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now. I must sort out what happened here!" the coach took out her wand and started heading toward the forest.

Orel sighed. Looks like Harry was up for more detentions. He craned his neck to see if he could spot another troublesome redhead. Ron was near the three hoops he had failed to defend, dejectedly wandering off the pitch away from everyone else.

Hermione gabbed his arm as he was walking to catch up to him. "Let him go. He needs some space."

"That is exactly what he doesn't need. I intend to knock some sense into him." The Dalelander shrugged off her grip and strode rapidly after Ron. He let him get away from the pitch before he walked extra loudly to attract the redhead's attention.

"Go away, Orel. I don't want to hear it," he snapped with a look over his shoulder.

"Hear what?" the foreign boy asked snidely.

Ron spun on his heal. "That I'm rubbish and shouldn't be on the team. That I had to have my best friend save the game because I shouldn't be allowed on a broom and-"

"Shut up, you idiot! I can't believe that you are doing exactly what the Slytherins want you to. You are letting them turn you into a liability because of your attitude!" Orel yelled right back.

"I have to tell Angelina that I can't do this anymore. That she needs to-"

"-quit, just like Slytherin wants. What a selfish little trugimenk you are! Oh, woe is I! I must give up because I am too sensitive to what people say! It is so hard to ignore them! I think I'll go sulk!"

"Shut up! You don't know what it is like!" Ron yelled.

"So it's easy to get angry at me? Why not get mad at Slytherin?" Orel shouted right back. "Oh, that's right! You just fall apart on their command!"

"I did not!"

"Bullocks! You miss one goal and then they start up with their stupid Weasley is our King, and you go to pieces. You might as well have a dunce cap on your head saying 'I am a sucker'. You let them control you, Weasley. Where was your righteous anger when your team needed it?"

Ron grabbed the front of Orel's robes and lifted the smaller teen off his feet. "I should knock your block off, you jerk!"

"I'll make it easier for you," Orel said, just before punching him in the jaw.

Ron staggered back from the punch, more from surprise than pain. With a yell of outrage, he dropped the other boy to the ground and snapped a punch at Orel's head that barely missed.

"That better! Maybe with a bit more anger you might-" Orel's diatribe was broken off with another punch from the bigger boy that connected solidly to his jaw.

"Just shut up! Shut up!"

"Why? Has anything I said not been the truth? Why don't you prove to me that I'm wrong?" Orel was circling carefully, ready to continue the fight in a moments notice.

"Prove what?"

"Show me that you won't let the Slytherin's control you, make you do what they want. Or are you a Slytherin patsy, Weasel? Use that anger against your enemies, not your friends and house!" Orel backed off and headed back up to the castle.

"We aren't done yet, Orel!" Ron yelled.

"Yes, Ron, we are. At least until you grow up."

-

Orel avoided Ron for the next day or so, which also had the effect of having him avoid Harry and Hermione more than he expected. Ron was more than happy to avoid him also.

On Monday at breakfast, Orel finally found out what had happened to Harry and Fred due to their fight on the Quidditch field. That was, after the hubbub of the huge teacher, Hagrid reappearing at the teacher's table.

Harry glowered at him once Orel impinged on his awareness. "Umbridge tried to get us banned from playing ever again. Angelina was not very happy at all. And what did you say to Ron? He's been half serious about poisoning you or something."

"I told him off for letting Malfoy play him for a patsy. So, more detentions?"

Harry winced. "Yes. And a fifty points apiece off from Gryffindor, too."

"Ah, I was wondering what put us out of the race. For the while, any ways. Another educational decree?"

On the notice board was another ministry decree: Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. In simple words, the Hogwarts Inquisitor could not be over ruled by a mere professor on any punishments.

"I'd say she's a bit upset that Professor McGonagall over ruled her for banning us from Quidditch for life," Harry mused aloud.

"I'd say so." Orel looked over his course reading. They had Care for Magical Creatures today, after all.

-

"Thestrals. So are they totally natural? Or did they get created like owl-bears?" Orel asked as the rest of the class (minus Harry, Ron and Hermione, of course) looked on with a bit of feat at the shreds of cow that were disappearing into 'thin' air. As far as most could see, anyway.

"Wha? As far as I know, they are natural, fer sure. So you, Harry and Neville can see them." Hagrid looked around happily. "Does anyone know why only certain people can see them?"

Hermione raised her hand just a moment before Orel's hand.

"Let's give Orel a chance to answer this one, Hermione. Go ahead." Hagrid stared at the 'transfer' student intently.

"They can only be seen by one who has seen and truly understands death." The young Dale Lander quirked an eyebrow at the huge man.

"Tha's right." Hagrid beamed. "Now Thestrals are downright useful creatures. I reckon that I've got the only trained herd in Britain."

"So, Orel, who did you see flop over dead in front of you? We know Potty saw Cedric die, although I think the Ministry is looking into those particulars." Malfoy gave the foreign boy a disarmingly evil grin.

"Oh, not much," Orel said blandly, talking right over Hagrid. "I just happened to see my mother raped and murdered in her own bed when I was three."

Several of the girl squealed at that. Even Malfoy looked surprised, though not too shocked.

"Tha's enough of tha'. Now..."

"Hem, hem." All of the students turned to see Umbridge stepping out of the shadows.

"Oh, hullo!" Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.

Orel and Harry just listened in horror as Umbridge proceeded to make Hagrid look like a total oaf and lout. Harry looked over at Hermione, Ron and Orel as if to plead to them to do something.

Orel raised his hand. "Excuse me, Professor."

Hagrid nodded his head. "Yeah?"

"Professor Grubbly-Plank wasn't able to answer a question I had about Liechrums. He had mentioned it wasn't possible to tame them, but they could be pets. He said they chose their owners very carefully, but never explained exactly how they make their choice." Orel put his hand down as he asked the question. "I couldn't find an answer in the library."

"Ah, tha's a good question. From what I've heard, they can get impressions from a person mind. A bit like legilimency, actually. I'm not too familiar with legilimency or occlumency, mind you. But my understanding is it allows someone to peek into your thoughts and memories. So a Liechrum checks your memories for anything about you hurting animals and such as." Hagrid beamed to his class. "Now, does anyone have any questions about Thestrals?"

Umbridge leveled a nasty glare at Orel. "Why I never..."

He looked her right back, eye to eye. "I'm quite impressed that Professor Hagrid knew something that Professor Grubbly-Plank didn't about creatures." He turned to Hermione. "How about you, Miss Granger."

"Indeed. Professor Hagrid really knows his animals," she replied quickly while trying to smother a laugh.

Quite a few of the Gryffindors that had been scared before were now giving Hagrid a much more respectful look now. Even a couple of Slytherins looked at the giant man in surprise.

The rest of the class passed uneventfully, but Malfoy and his cronies couldn't help but heckle the Gryffindors on the way back to class.

"Orel and Potty, in a tree!" they sang badly while laughing.

Orel looked over to Ron. "Bet I can hit that rock with a spell," he said, pointing out at a small rock in the middle of the field with his wand.

The redhead glared back at him. "Whatever."

Orel winked slyly at him. "Ignis Orbus!" he shouted as he launched a fiery sphere at the rock from the tip of his wand. The little ball exploded on impact with a thundering boom. Damp grass was smoldering after the magical flames vanished in a forty-foot wide circle. "Oops. I guess I over did my fireball," Orel said loudly in an innocent voice. "Well, that's why I didn't want to show you that outside."

"You'll be in trouble for that!" Malfoy shouted. Crab and Goyle just looked terrified of the small boy. They started to edge off quickly.

"Say, Harry? Hermione? Do you want me to teach you that one? I've got a few good combat spells that I'm getting rusty about casting." Orel seemed to be totally ignoring the Slytherin trio.

Harry couldn't help but grin. "Wicked."

The youngest Weasley boy coughed uncomfortably, his ears red with embarrassment. "Say, Orel?"

"Sure, Ron. Sorry I was so rough on you after the Quidditch match. Friends?" Orel gave him a wicked grin.

"I needed it. I'm not going to let..." Ron nodded at the retreating figures. "And that spell looks wickedly cool. Friends."

"Not too useful indoors, I'll admit. But outside it's handy for exploding monsters in large numbers."

-

Fall turned into winter quickly and the holidays were fast approaching when 'Dumbledore's Army' had finished their last practice before the holidays.

Hermione, Ron and Orel were doing homework in the Gryffindor common room when Harry finally wandered in, in a bit of a daze. Ron was lying on the hearthrug, trying to finish his Transfiguration homework.

"What kept you?" he asked, as Harry sank into the armchair next to Hermione's a bit apprehensively.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill. She seemed to be watching him very intently.

"Well, er, I just had a run in with Cho." Harry pulled at his collar nervously. "You, um, know that I'd been interested in her for a while?"

Hermione smiled, though it looked a bit pained. "I know, Harry."

"Well, she's interested in me now too. She kissed me. Under the mistletoe! It wasn't my idea. Especially, after you told me that you fancied me, Hermione. You know what I mean." Harry looked incredibly nervous.

Ron snapped his head up at those comments as he broke his quill. "What? You and Hermione? Aren't you interested in Cho? What did I miss?"

Hermione's face was almost glowing in embarrassment. In a small voice, she said, "I just told Harry that I fancied him."

"But... But..." The red-haired boy seemed to have lost his ability to string words together coherently.

"Good. I'm glad you were able to tell him," Orel said absently. He was reading for Professor Binn's essay that was due in a few days. Mostly to check for errors in his document.

Ron, Hermione and Harry all glanced over at him. "What does that mean?" Ron demanded.

Orel dark-eyed gaze looked into Ron's unflinchingly. "She was pining away, hoping that he'd notice her."

"But I..." Ron broke off as he looked helplessly at Hermione. "I kind of fancied Hermione."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise at that pronouncement.

The Dalelander made a theatrical groan. "And when were you going to let her know?"

"When I was ready!"

"So you have two girls that fancy you, Harry? Most guys dream about being in your boots," Orel said with a wide, nasty grin to try and change the subject.

"It's very confusing, is what it is. I hadn't really thought it all out. And it wasn't anything I expected when I was with her. She was crying. Because of Cedric, I think. That made me... I dunno, uncomfortable." Harry's expression was very troubled.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to trouble you." With that, Hermione jumped to her feet and started to scoop up her parchments, unshed tears in her eyes.

"Wait, Hermione! You would... you are never trouble. You've always been there. I'm just starting to get used to the idea that you want there to be an us is all. I'm just a jumble about this. I need to figure it out." Harry took a deep breath. "And you are very important to me, Hermione. I agreed to give us a chance, didn't I?"

Hermione's reply was very soft. "Yes, you did." She turned to look him in his deep green eyes. "I love you, Harry. I think I have for years. But... I can't force you to love me back."

Orel saw Ron wince at that. The Weasley looked very distraught at the tableau in front of him. He swallowed deeply, but couldn't seem to find his voice.

"Hermione. I wish I could answer you right now. But I don't know what love is. I've barely even had any friends before Hogwarts. I didn't even think anyone would care about me." Harry turned back to Ron. "You two have been the best of friends that I could ever want. You're already like my family."

"We'll always be there for you, Harry." Hermione's eyes shone bright with unshed tears.

Ron gulped and then opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally he said, "Always, Harry. That's what true friend are. Always there for each other."

-

The 5th year Gryffindors were awoken the night before the holidays by Harry screaming in his sleep.

"Harry!"

Ron was standing over him looking extremely frightened. There were more figures at the foot of Harry's bed. He clutched his head in his hands; the pain was blinding him… he rolled right over and vomited over the edge of the mattress.

"He's really ill," said Dean. "Should we call someone?"

"Harry! Harry!"

"Your dad," he panted, his chest heaving. "Your dad's… been attacked…"

"What?" said Ron uncomprehendingly.

"Your dad! He's been bitten, it's serious, and there was blood everywhere…"

Orel spoke up suddenly. "How do you know, Harry? You've been here. Doesn't Ron's dad live south of London?"

"It wasn't a dream… not an ordinary dream… I was there, I saw it… I did it…"

Seamus and Dean were muttering but Harry didn't care. The pain in his forehead was subsiding slightly, though he was still sweating and shivering feverishly. He retched again and Ron leapt backwards out of the way.

"Harry, you're not well," he said shakily. "Neville's gone for help."

"I'm fine!" Harry choked, wiping his mouth on his pajamas and shaking uncontrollably. "There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about - we need to find out where he is - he's bleeding like mad - I was - it was a huge snake."

"Harry, does this have to do with your scar?" Orel asked suddenly. "Is your scar hurting." That was an easy guess, as it was inflamed and Harry seemed to be holding his head.

Harry could only nod weakly. When Professor McGonagall appeared, Harry managed to convince her to bring him to Dumbledore. Ron was asked to follow along.

Orel just tagged along on his own. Soon they ended up in the headmaster's office where he started to send out order to his paintings and sent off his little mini-phoenix to stand guard.

The young Dalelander listened intently, even as Dumbledore's eye kept track of them carefully. The old wizard seemed to understand that Harry and Ron trusted him. But how far that trust would extend, he didn't know.

There was a flash of flame in the very middle of the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor.

"It is Fawkes's warning," said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. "Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds… Minerva, go and head her off - tell her any story -"

"Professor Dumbledore and I have been discussing my next trip to Saint Mungo's, of course." The only Gryffindor that wasn't being sent off... somewhere said with a tight smile.

"Indeed. I have even managed to procure an ancient volume of Avalonian lore." Dumbledore stood up and retrieved a kettle that he bid all of the Weasley children to touch, along with Harry. They disappeared with a pop, leaving a slightly bewildered headmaster behind.

"Yes, in essence divided," he mumbled to himself.

"Oh?" Orel asked.

Dumbledore suddenly focused on the young man left there. "Yes, that book of Avalonian lore that I mentioned that I had found. It really was quite interesting. Unfortunately, the only way to get to the other world of Avalon was through a very specific gateway. Other realms seem to be the domain of spirits."

"You're not going to let me know what's going on, are you?" Orel had a small grin on his face.

"Now such a location may be a weakening of the walls between worlds. If we can discover where the path to Avalon was, you may discover a means to get back to your own world," the headmaster continued blithely.

There was a sudden rapping on the doorway. In just a moment, Umbridge barged into the room followed by McGonagal. "Professor Dumbledore, what is going on?" the short, stout woman asked.

"Would you like a lemon drop?" he replied.

"No, I would not! I would like an answer to what is going on with that delinquent, Harry Potter!" she snapped back.

"I wasn't aware that Harry had broken any rules by not being well. I must have missed that educational decree," Orel mused aloud in a false sotto voice.

Professor Umbridge's face turned a remarkable hue. "Young man, are you insinuating something?"

"No, Ma'am. But the last time I saw Harry he wasn't feeling too well. He'd been throwing up earlier."

Professor McGonagall smiled tightly. "Yes, I hardly think that a student that isn't feeling well is a matter that you need involve yourself. I'm sure he'll be better in a short time."

Umbridge gave all three of them an unpleasant glare. "Very well, I will find out for myself what is going on. You're cooperation, or lack thereof, will be noted."

After she'd left, Dumbledore raised one eyebrow at the young Dalelander. "Aren't you worried that this will cause Minister Fudge to rethink letting you stay here at Hogwarts, Orel?"

"Of course not! I'm being a very good little spy and insinuating myself into your favor, aren't I?" Orel just grinned crookedly. He felt something probing around the edge of his consciousness. "Please don't do that, whatever it was."

"Interesting. Well, you will be taking the Hogwarts Express back to London and then travel to St. Mungo's?" Dumbledore asked blithely while ignoring his response to his own occulemancy.

"Yes sir."

-

"Hey, Harry!" Orel called out from across the reception hall of St. Mungo's the next day. He had decided to not wait for the train. He was quite able to teleport himself from the Hogshead station.

"Shsss!" the young wizard behind the desk hissed out.

Orel wandered over to Harry who was standing in the middle of the Weasleys. "Orel? What are you doing here?" Harry asked. He looked tired and frazzled.

"Dying, of course. Remember?" He just rolled his eyes at his friend. "Hello, Ma'am. I'm Orel Maresk."

"Er, hello. I thought I knew most of Harry and Ron's friends." Mrs. Weasley shook his proffered hand.

"Oh, I just started attending Hogwarts this year. Situation was a bit out of my control, actually. What brings you all here?"

"Mr. Weasley was attacked by some creature last night. He's here at St. Mungo's recovering," Ginny explained.

"Ah, that explains it. If you don't mind, I'd like to tag along, even if I don't get to meet him. I've got hours before my appointment with the Mediwitch assigned to my case."

"He's up in the Beast Related Injuries ward, children. And of course you can come along. We'll see if you can see him." Molly just smiled at the slight boy that could give Harry a run for undersizedness.

Soon they were taken up into the ward that Arthur Weasley was being kept in. Orel was introduced and then promptly relegated to the back of the bunch. It was obvious that Arthur had been seriously wounded last night. Which meant that Harry's scar was more interesting than Orel had previously surmised.

"And that poor fellow got himself bit by a werewolf," Arthur was explaining.

Absently, Orel replied conversationally with, "I hope he gets cured soon." Suddenly, he found himself at the center of attention of everyone in the room.

"Orel, are you daft? There's no cure for lycanthropy!" Ron remarked bluntly.

"You don't have a cure for it? How... remarkable."

Harry was looking at Orel closely. "You know a cure for it, don't you? You do!" Hope had bloomed in his eyes.

"I understand how its done, but I've never cured anyone myself. I do know the spell and the ritual. Just in case. Removing curses is far too useful and I had thought that it might be what cured my own problem." Orel just shrugged his shoulders.

"It's an infection! Even I remember that much," Ron explained bluntly.

"Of course it is, but it's a cursed infection. You can't cure it until you remove the curse. Lycanthropy isn't easy to remove, either. It takes someone who really knows what he's doing and has a lot of power behind him. Or her, of course."

Harry gulped convulsively. "You could try, couldn't you? I mean, you'd be willing to try, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose so. I take it you know someone that is infected?"

Harry just nodded his head. That was all he could say.

Molly and Arthur just shared a quick glance with each other. Trying to be casual about it, Arthur asked, "When could you try?"

Orel started to count on his fingers. "In about a week, I think. That's the next full moon."

"Why is the full moon important?" Ginny asked curiously.

"You do have to confront the beast. You and the patient both. I'd suggest very thick, heavy chains myself. It can be a bit tricky to cast the spell while fighting for your life."

Everyone laughed uncertainly at that, even as the kids were escorted out so that Mad Eye Moody and Tonks could have a private discussion about what had happened the night before.

Whatever George, Fred and Harry overhead must have not been pleasant though. The looks the twins were giving Harry were very thoughtful and Harry looked like someone had just told him his pet had died.

-

"My name is Remus Lupin," the gaunt man said as he shook Orel's hand in the entranceway of Number 12 Grimauld Place.

"Filty half humans and mudblooods, polluting the honored house of Black!" a painting suddenly screamed as some curtains suddenly flew open. Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny and the twins just winced as the painting built up its torrent of insults.

Another haggard man came down the hall shouting, "Shut up! Shut up, you old hag!"

"Is this painting bothering you?" Orel asked nonchalantly.

The black-haired man stuffed the curtain over the painting again. "Yes. Always. And it's using some sort of ever-lasting sticking charm. It's been impossible to remove it."

"Is there anything important on the other side of that wall?" the foreigner asked casually.

"Er, not really-"

"Destructivius!" Oren suddenly shouted out, his wand emitting a green ray that struck the painting. With a crack of displaced air, most of the wall disappeared. The house groaned alarmingly. "Oops.

Remus and the unnamed gentlemen reacted with alacrity, quickly conjuring several stout, wooden beam to hold up the house.

"Orel..." Harry rasped out, his face pale and very drawn.

"Yes, Harry?"

"What was that spell?"

"A disintegration spell. I misjudged a bit on how much wall it would take out."

"Its not the killing spell, Harry," Ginny said softly as she laid her hand on his arm.

"The killing spell?" Orel asked.

"I'm sure that is a very fine discussion, but if you are finished destroying parts of my house, we'll retire to the kitchen for a snack."

"Sorry, Sirius. I think Orel was trying to help," Harry said.

"Well, I can't blame him for using such a dangerous spell on that painting. I know I've been tempted to at some times. But I'm a bit less impetuous than that," Sirius said with a grin.

"Ha!" Remus exclaimed. "Admit it! You just didn't think about exploding it."

"I won't. Admit it, I mean. Though it did silence the old hag finally. Kreacher!" the dark-haired man bellowed.

With a snap, a very bent over form appeared in the hallway. "Nasty master calls so Kreacher so Kreacher must come as ordered," the strange house-elf muttered darkly, seemingly ignoring everyone. His eye blinked as he took in the missing wall. With a wail, he cried out, "The Mistress! What did you do?"

"She seems to have been disintegrated," Sirius said smugly. "But it seems to have left us bereft a wall. So it needs shoring up until we can rebuild it. Keep the house from falling down. That's an order."

With that, he led them down to the kitchen. Molly looked up from the stove. "What was that racket? Was it that nasty painting again?"

"It was!" Sirius exclaimed cheerfully.

The older woman just blinked at his sudden cheer. "I take it there is some good out of that?"

"Yes!" the owner of the house cheered loudly. "Harry's new friend solved our portrait problem!"

"I have a name, you know!" Orel said in a disgruntled tone.

"Orel, right?" Molly turned back to Sirius. "And how did he solve it?"

"He vaporized it!" Ron exclaimed loudly. He thumped loudly into a seat, a wide grin on his face.

Orel mouthed the word 'vaporized' to himself. It didn't seem to be a word he was familiar to him. "I think a closer term would be 'dusted' it, actually. That spell only leaves a miniscule amount of dust behind. No vapor involved."

Harry laughed at the astonished expressions of the adults. "Orel is still learning some of the trickier parts of English, Mrs. Weasley," Harry explained. He seemed to be in a better mood since the discovery at St. Mungos.

"Mr. Lupin? Where would you like the curse-breaking to happen?" Orel asked. "I'd suggest some place with a bit of room and where you are not worried about breaking some things."

"Arthur said you needed to confront the beast during the full moon?" the one-time professor said a bit timidly.

The brown-haired boy nodded. "Yes."

"Then I think this room would be best. We can remove the table and dresser there and that leaves a solid room..." he said, trailing off.

"In case you break free. I would recommend a few people trained with trapping spells. Just in case. Were you able to find any strong chains and locks?" the young student asked.

"Not yet. The chains I had from before I would not trust," Remus said with a shrug.

"Why don't you go to the hardware store? Muggles make very good chains and you can just walk in and purchase them. Buy some muggle padlocks too," Harry said as he thought hard. Anything to make him forget about what he had heard.

-

Later that day, Orel had to admit that Muggles made good chains and really good locks. While magic could literally do just about anything, the sciences that Muggles used were really top notch. Non-magical fireballs were an intriguing idea that he must investigate at a later time.

He clinked a hammer against the chains. "I'd say they are strong enough," he mused aloud.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Supposedly strong enough to tow a very large truck, so I'd hope so. But that isn't for a week. Let's go down to the sitting room where people are starting to decorate for the holiday."

"I guess," Orel replied.

The next day, the Dalelander watched everyone else being festive, though he thought that putting the red and white festive hats and faux white beards on the heads of the house-elves was quite creepy.

"Orel? Would you be willing to teach that ritual for removing the curse from a werewolf?" Hermione asked. She had just shown up a few hours ago. Obviously Harry had told her about curing Remus.

"Sure. Is there any particular reason you want to learn it?" he asked.

"It's going to be a history making spell here in the wizarding world. I might even be able to write a book about this later!"

-

"Would you like an autograph? I learned conjoined writing just for this!" the daft fellow said, holding up a paper. His blond hair was a bit a mess.

Orel, Harry, Ron and Ginny had wandered off in search of refreshments. How they had run into this fellow out of his room was quite a mystery.

"I'm sorry? Who are you?" Orel asked blithely.

"This is Professor Lockhart. He taught Defense Against the Dark Arts a couple of years ago. A spell he cast backfired on him and left him like this." Harry was trying not to laugh.

"Oh, you naughty young man. Come along," a frazzled mediwitch said as she appeared through a door in the stairwell. "Oh, do you people know Professor Lockhart? He gets so few visitors. It may help him recover his wits a little better if more people like you visited."

With that, they were trundled off into the ward for spell damage victims. Orel listened to her natter on about her different wards. He occupied his time looking over the pretty flowers that people had delivered for the holidays. One fellow had a whole plethora of flowers He just shook his head in amazement. Such a great variety.

Suddenly he stiffened. "Harry, could you come over and take a look at this?"

"Sure, Orel. What's up?" Harry wandered over. It looked like he had finally regained a bit of his sense of humor.

"You know I've been trying to catch up on all my courses, right? Didn't Professor Sprout say that one was dangerous?" The Dalelander was pointing at a small vine in a pot.

"Yes, but I doubt they'd... That's a Devil Snare!" Harry snapped out suddenly.

"That's what I thought-" Orel tried to reply.

Harry grabbed it and threw it across the room to smash against the wall.

"Young man! What do you think you are doing?" shouted the Mediwitch.

"That's a Devil Snare! Someone slipped it into the flowers here!" Harry shouted.

"What? Nonsense!" she snapped back.

"Look!" Orel shouted.

The Devil Snare was trying to crawl across the floor towards the nearest person, which happened to be Ginny. She yelped in surprise and backed away. "How did that get in here?" she cried out.

Suddenly the door slammed open, waking even more patients. "What is going on here?" yelled a big thick man with almost no neck.

"Healer Hendwicks, these children are trying to claim someone sent Mr. Bode a Devil Snare! That's totally preposterous and they then smashed the plant against the wall." The mediwitch was quite shrill with her accusations.

Hendwicks looked at the plant closely. "It is a Devil Snare." He plucked the card for it out of the shattered remains of the pot it had been in. "I'm afraid you are all going to have to stay here until the Aurors show up. It appears someone was trying to kill Mr. Bode."

It was several hours before they were released, but the Aurors posted a body guard. It seemed the wizard was some sort of special operative, an Unspeakable... that worked in a very strangely, yet aptly, named Department of Mysteries.

-

The beast snapped at Orel, snarling with no human intelligence or cunning. "Not very pretty," the young Dalelander said casually. "But those chains do seem to work very well. Is everyone ready?" They were in the cleared living room, with the werewolf chained to a large and sturdy wooden chair.

Dumbledore, Harry and Hermione nodded, while Tonks and Sirius watched the chained up werewolf closely. Ground wolfsbane powder was charring in incense holder. Orel started chanting, his fingers dancing in arcane gestures. Minutes passed as his voice continued strong.

Suddenly, Remus started howling and thrashing. Harry gripped his fists tighter. "Come on, Remus. Fight it," he muttered. The young wizard had explained that it still took effort and will of the infected to throw off the curse. But, Orel had noted, Remus was no longer a seven year old child but a full wizard in his own right.

Shockingly, Remus started to revert to his human form while Orel continued chanting, though his voice had started to become hoarse. Finally, the chanting stopped.

"I'd say we succeeded, hmm?" Orel said to the crowd. "So, up for a small moonlit stroll?"

Remus suddenly started laughing. "You know, I think I might."

-

The trip back to Hogwarts was on the train again, though Orel thought it wasn't really that efficient. He was startled to discover that trains were actually a muggle invention. And that the Hogwart's Express was actually considered to be an antique in many ways. The reason it was used was because it was cheaper than magic. He hung out with Harry, Ginny, Ron and Neville, sharing stories and the occasional treat.

The evening meal was probably the most surprising one that Harry Potter had in many a year. Sitting at the teacher's table sat a slightly tired looking Remus Lupin, chatting amiably with Hagrid. As more and more students wandered in, Dumbledore stood up.

"Students! It is with great delight that I welcome back Professor Lupin as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. A round of applause, please!" he said with a beaming smile.

"But he's a werewolf!" a Slytherin exclaimed, looking very worried.

"Actually, it is more accurate to say that he is the first person in our world cured of lycanthropy. Which brings up another matter. I would like to award a special one hundred points to Gryffindor for a student that is willing to show old dogs new tricks!" He waited a moment. "I would like to thank Professor Umbridge for her help from the ministry in covering our classes until I could find a suitable replacement. Tuck in!"