Chapter 2

Ziad didn't actually have anything to take care of, but he felt that exiting in a more purposeful manner would appear more dignified than a hasty retreat. Unfortunately, Fate didn't particularly care, as Ziad tripped on his still-unfamiliar robes and crashed into a suit of armor. Twenty minutes and two hundred curses later, he limped into the Hufflepuff common room. He was immediately accosted by a prefect asking him who had beaten him up. Ziad shrugged him off and slumped into a chair.

"Soo... Why weren't you at the DA meeting? And why do you look like you just lost an argument with a troll?" queried Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Ah.. Well, I heard you say the wrong time. I was, ah... Late? And as for the second question, I tripped. Into a suit of armor."

"Nice." Justin returned to his work, clearly rather bored by the conversation.

"I'll... Um... I'll go to- wait, you know what? Do you people just kiss in public a lot?"

"What do you mean, you people?"

"Um... You... People. British people. Westerners. Infidels, whatever. Choose your poison."

"Well, um... Yeah, mate, we do. Why do you ask?"

"Well it seems Cho Chang and Harry Potter are a thing now. You didn't hear it from me."

"Brilliant!"

"Only problem is that she was crying the whole bloody time. What's her problem?"

Justin sighed and put down his quill. "Well, you know how there was an empty bed when you came last month? At the end of last year..."

After a somewhat abridged and probably mostly inaccurate recounting of last year's events, Ziad sat back, closed his eyes, and wondered just what the in the hell he had gotten himself into.

The winter holidays soon rolled around, and Ziad stayed at Hogwarts. He spent most of his time sleeping or reading American fiction, which he hadn't been allowed to do in Lebanon.

He didn't expect to get any presents on Christmas, for obvious reasons, so it came as no surprise that he didn't. When the rest of his dorm-mates got up early and began unwrapping presents, Ziad couldn't stay asleep, so he went outside and prayed and studied the Quran by the lake.

Three hours later, he rolled up his prayer mat, stuffed his Quran in his bag, and began trudging back to the castle for lunch. By now the house-elves had figured out to make one Halal meal just for him, which was a relief. He could handle only so many salads in a day.

Winter holiday soon drew to a close, and the students began re-populating the school. Classes progressed as usual (namely, Ziad struggled through first-year level coursework while hanging out with fifth and sixth-years), Umbridge was a bitch, and the DA met regularly. This time, Ziad made sure to arrive at the right time and leave promptly, usually after winking suggestively at Harry (because why not?)

One day he saw a group of students gathered around the notice board in the common room.

"What's the crowd about?"

"Hogsmeade weekend on Valentines Day!" a seventh year witch giggled while making googly eyes at a boy across the room.

"Right, 'cause I know what that is..." Ziad sighed and left for breakfast. Crazy, the whole bloody lot of 'em.

As he rounded a corner, two tall seventh year Gryffindors stepped out in front of him. They were identical. Ziad had noticed them at DA meetings, and was curious as to what they wanted with him.

"So... Our new... Celebrity?" Whispered one of them ominously as they paced in a steadily closing circle around him.

"Oh yes, my dear brother. It appears this one... Is destined for greatness!"

"Come... Follow us."

They led him up and far into the upper levels of the castle, before stopping in an empty classroom.

"So... Mr. Jarrah, I believe you are taking first-year classes," one of them smirked.

"And that would, I assume, include Umbridge's Defense Against Safety Class?" the other continued.

Ziad could, based on what little of the twin's reputation he could pick up, guess where this was going.

"You want me to stir up unrest among the first-years before your eventual uprising against the Zionists... Er... Umbridge?"

The "ominous" pacing stopped. They glanced at each other and smiled.

"I believe we have found a Fellow." The capital "F" was palpable.

"I'm Fred," he extended his hand. Ziad shook it.

"I'm George," Ziad shook the offered hand.

"I'm Ziad Al-Mohammed Jarrah," he declared, "I offer all of my small power to the eventual destruction of the infidel Dolores Umbridge, inshallah!"