Sorry for the long wait. ^^ Hope you enjoy!

When Jellal busied himself with exploring the school and learning about this world, it seemed he far underestimated what should have been a simple task. He stared at the empty, though brightly lit corridor before him, which somehow seemed the same as the one he had began in two floors below.

"Are you, perhaps, lost, young sir?" A painting—he never would get used to that—inquired, leaning forward with raised spectacles, as if to peer into his eyes and predict his future. While the question was innocent, and most definitely right on target, the mage still had some semblance of pride left.

"Wh-What makes you say that?" He asked, silently cursing at the stutter in his voice. The feminine face raised a delicate eyebrow at him, but pried no further, and instead gestured towards a smaller entrance he hadn't noticed before.

"That will take you back to the third floor." It—she—turned away from him, supposedly minding her own business, though he could see one gray eye watching him when he supposedly wasn't looking.

Jellal didn't question any further, taking the passageway with a step of caution. Once deciding that the floor wouldn't drop from beneath him (again), he continued at a quicker pace. The small path exited into a much larger hallway, the portraits here watching him and whispering conspiratorially to each other. A soft rumbling caught his attention nearby, causing his feet to turn towards them, if merely out of habit.

He stopped abruptly, eyes widening as dozens of staircases above and below him moved from one balcony to another. Each created the sound he'd heard earlier as the supposedly still stone shuddered and jarred, moving itself to a different location. One such stairwell, leading farther down, shuddered to a stop at his feet.

He stepped carefully onto the carpet laid upon them, and quickly proceeded to jog down them before they moved again. He nearly flew down the stairway, landing with ease at the next floor.

Jellal watched as that staircase moved and another took its place, leading down farther. He didn't try to stop the small grin that crept onto his face. Taking a step, he repeated the process, practically jumping from floor to floor. Perhaps this school would be more fun than he had anticipated.

The library contained more books than he had seen since Siegrain's days in the Council. Tall shelves created small hallways within the room, packed with variously colored books of different sizes and textures. He moved evenly past the round oaken tables, eyes fixed firmly on the shelves with a sort of anticipatory delight.

His footsteps slowed down significantly as his eyes scanned the titles, finger tracing along leather spines. He'd never seen so many books purely on magic. Even in the Council's library, there were books about cultures, economics and politics; books about history, nonmagical folk, and mathematics. But here, it was about magic and the different types, history on magical folk and all the different magical species. Yet, there was also an entire section purely based on nonmagical folk and their culture. Although the books were in entirely different languages, it still provided him with some semblance of information. Once he learned how to read it, of course.

"I see you've taken a liking to the library." Albus strode crookedly into the aisle, that ever-present smile on his face. Jellal, jerked from his thoughts, turned to the man, smiling a greeting in return.

"Yes, well, I need to learn as much as I can about this place." He replied evenly, his eye catching a book labeled 'Portkeys'. He reached for it, pulling out the large tome from its spot sandwiched between other literatures. "…What's in the Restricted Section?"

"Of course, I've been meaning to speak with you about that." With an incline of his head, the Headmaster led the younger towards the back, where the aforementioned area of the library was situated. It was separated from the rest of the area by a rope, and even from several feet away the mage could feel the old magic coming from within. The shelves beyond the rope were old, perhaps almost as old as the dust-covered tomes they held.

"Why is it restricted?" Jellal inquired, but Albus simply smiled wider. They moved farther into the area, the space around them getting dustier and darker, the light from the main library fading behind them.

Lumos. Jellal watched with a hint of fascination as the tip of the stick—er, wand—the elder held lit up in a luminescent glow. They continued walking, the mage careful not to trip over any stray tomes or loose flooring.

It was when they reached so far back that the library was no longer visible that the two stopped. There were no longer books in this section, but rather, papyrus scrolls and stone tablets that had been preserved with magic.

Albus reached for the top shelf, extracting a particularly worn scroll from the depths of the space. "Take a look at this." He said, carefully placing the scroll in the young man's hands. The blue-haired man did just that, unrolling the papyrus. He stopped after a glimpse of its contents, eyes widening for a fraction and then narrowing all at once.

"Where did you get this?" He all but growled, clutching the scroll with trembling hands. He could read every word of it, understand every letter. He knew the names, the words.

Albus merely shook his head, smile disappearing for a moment as he studied the tattooed face. "It's been here for years. One of the previous Headmasters might've brought it back, perhaps, or it might have always been here."

"…Do you mind if I keep this?" Shaky hands somehow found a way to roll the scroll back up, still clutching it tightly. The wizard watched with an inquisitive eye, but shrugged lightheartedly nonetheless.

"Go ahead, if it is so important to you." He replied, smiling. A blue eye observed the way the other's shoulders dropped in relief.

"Thank you." Jellal retreated from the area quickly, scroll still clutched in his hands. Albus watched him as he left, an inquiring look on his face and a bony hand stroking his long white beard thoughtfully.

It's been over a month since he arrived here, and there was only two more weeks until the start of the term. In the meantime, he'd learned the language, which was surprisingly easy. Twenty-six letters was nothing compared to Fiore's alphabet. In fact, he found it much simpler and easier to read and write.

He spent much of his time in the library, reading books on nearly every subject. If he wasn't reading, he was speaking with the other people there or helping out around the castle. He found it particularly interesting how the magical community here was so isolated from the rest of the world. Back in Fiore, both sides interacted on a daily basis. There was no prejudice about which was better, and mages could put up their services in order to earn a living.

The thought of his home caused a grimace to settle unpleasantly on his face. He'd already been here for at least six weeks; Meredy and Ultear were probably worried about him. What if Erza and the other Fairy Tail mages had been found? He sighed, rubbing the creases from his face and shutting the book in his hand. His thoughts had been straying to that subject often, and it caused him much more stress than he needed.

Jellal looked around the room he'd been lent, at the four-post bed and the dresser and the cherry-wood desk in the corner. Sighing again, he stood from the leather armchair, setting the book down on the side table. For the tenth time in three hours he opened the desk drawer, staring at the wand that still sat in its case.

Just over thirteen inches of a pale, almost white color, though still with the distinct texture and appearance of wood. It could've been a rather large chopstick for all he knew, had he not experienced firsthand the crimson sparks that emitted from the thinner tip. Intricate web-like designs draped around it, as if it were shattered glass that had been put back together again. His hand reached for it, brushing along the patterns of the wood, only to recoil immediately at the ensuing feeling.

Like a narrow vacuum, sucking in his magic and pulling it through the conduit, forcibly sculpting it to fit in a previously created mold. The feeling was uncomfortable, as if he'd lost control over his own magic. While Albus had insisted he at least own one, for the satisfaction of both him and the acting government here, Jellal didn't want to use it—much less to even hold it.

A series of consistent rapping upon the door startled the mage out of his thoughts, his hand knocking into the drawer as he turned to answer it. The wand, jolted by the sudden movements, flipped over the side and onto the emerald carpet, rolling beneath the desk.

"How does that even happen…?" He muttered to himself, sparing a glance at the ground where the wand had landed before moving quickly to the door.

A large, burly man towered over him, head not quite clearing the doorway. He grinned down at the other from beneath the scraggly beard, accompanied by a small wave of the hand. "'Ello there… Jellal, was it?" He said in a gruff, but warm voice.

Jellal nodded, smiling softly in return at the other. "Yes. Hagrid, right?" The man grinned in confirmation. "Did you need something?"

The man hefted a small pouch, which jingled with the clinking of coins. "You 'aven't been to Diagon Alley, righ'? I was 'eadin' over there and though' ya might like to come." He didn't really feel like going, but the curiosity quickly overcame that.

"Sure."

Diagon Alley was a myriad of European wizarding culture. Jellal could appreciate that. However, he just could not condone the way they stared at him as if he was an unseen phenomenon on display.

He cast yet another glare to a gawking wizard, sending the man scurrying off. "Why are they all staring?" He turned to the large, burly man leading him around. If anything, this man should be the one attracting all the looks, but it seemed that most wizards knew him, paying the half-giant no mind.

"Per'aps because you got unnatural 'air." Hagrid replied, and though his comment was innocent, it still rubbed the blue-haired man the wrong way.

He opened his mouth to protest, to tell the other it was a completely natural color where he came from, and that he was born with this hair, but Albus's words came back to him.

They stood at the exit to the castle; the same door that Hagrid often used to go to and from his hut. Despite his outwardly calm demeanor, Jellal felt restless. He wanted to leave quickly, to get his first true glimpse of the world outside the castle.

Albus stood nearby, giving some last remarks—reminders, perhaps—to the larger man. Jellal watched as the half-giant's dark eyes glittered with admiration for the other, soaking in every word that was said.

They finished up their conversation fairly quickly, and the elder turned to Jellal, whose shoulders straightened just slightly at the somber look that took over the smile that'd been there previously.

"I should warn you beforehand," Albus began and the younger nodded, gesturing for him to continue. "You're… hair color is not considered natural here."

Jellal immediately returned the comment with a disarming smile, though the effect on Albus wasn't nearly as noticeable as it would've been on anyone else.

"Thank you for your concern. I'll make sure to remember that."

He supposed he'd just have to put up with it. He figured this meant he probably couldn't explore the muggle world either. "That there is Ollivander's shop. He came by to help you with your wand, righ'?"

Hagrid pointed at a dingy little shop at one end of the long street, with a sign featuring the wandmaker's name in looping letters. Jellal nodded in response, noting with mild interest the dusty, cluttered and downtrodden appearance of the building.

For the next several hours, the taller led the castle's guest around the Alley, pointing out shops and people as they went in and out of doors. The mage absorbed the information, eyes darting around in an attempt to remember every detail of each room. He observed with interest the things Hagrid bought, going in and out of seemingly random shops and buying seemingly random objects.

By the time dinner hit, both men were carrying multiple bags slung across either arm, each of varying sizes. Hagrid led Jellal to the end of the street, in which a brick wall stood.

"'Old these for a moment, will ya?" The half-giant said, dumping another five bags into the shorter man's arms. Jellal was about to protest, tempted to just drop the weight from his aching appendages, when the taller withdrew an… umbrella?

The mage watched with fascination as the tip of the umbrella tapped carefully against a seemingly random assortment of bricks along the wall. As Hagrid withdrew the umbrella from the wall, the bricks parted, folding in on each other. They moved back and back and back, rotating in place so that they replaced others which replaced others and so on, until a large arch replaced much of the bare wall. Beyond was a door leading up to a large, though dingy structure.

Hagrid marched calmly through the arch and towards the door, oblivious to the awe of the mage behind him. "This 'ere's the Leaky Cauldron." He said by way of explanation, burly hand pulling open the door with a flourish. He turned back to see Jellal still watching with interest, feet planted in his spot. "Well? C'mon!" The taller cried, beckoning roughly.

Jumping from his thoughts, the blue-haired man complied, striding up to the door. He followed the half-giant inside, absently taking note of the appearance, which reflected the outside. Not much for a first impression, he thought, but it had a homey feel about it. He decided he liked it.

"Hello there, Hagrid." A sleezy old man called out from behind a bar counter, his smile friendly as he directed it towards the two newcomers. Hagrid greeted the man warmly, pulling Jellal up beside him.

"'Ello there, Tom." He leant down, beard tickling the mage's ear as he spoke. "This 'ere's Tom, the owner." Tom smiled again, reaching out to shake the younger man's outstretched hand. Despite his appearance, the man had a firm grip.

"It's nice to meet you, mister…" Tom began, head tilted expectantly.

"Jellal. Jellal Fernandes." He replied, returning the warm gestures with a smile of his own. Tom nodded. Hagrid and the inn keeper engaged themselves in small talk a while longer, Jellal standing off to the side politely.

Despite himself, the mage's eyes wandered, taking in the other occupants of the room. It was largely empty, the few that were there keeping their heads low and their faces out of sight. They wore dreary-colored robes, hunching over their food and drink and keeping their hats pulled over their head, as if they were trying to hide.

A young boy, his appearance far different from the rest, attracted his attention. The boy—a young teen, perhaps around 14 or 15—sat with a straight back, unlike the others, picking at his food quietly in the corner of the room. His hair wasn't as… interesting as some other wizards he'd seen, raven-black that hung down into bright green eyes. Round glasses hung off of his face, and every few minutes the boy would push them up again. Like his glasses, his clothes were ill-fitting, much too large for the boy's small, scrawny frame.

The boy's head snapped up, eyes tearing from the plate to meet his eyes. The two stared at each other, the drone of the few conversations fading into a distant murmur.

"…al."

"…llal."

The blue-haired mage wrenched his eyes away from the other, turning to the location of the gruff voice calling his name.

Harry watched the strange man talking to Hagrid. He'd never seen him before—at least, he didn't think so. He liked to think he'd remember someone with blue hair and a tattoo on his face, especially in such foreign clothes. He hadn't seen anything like it; the cloak was relatively normal, but the style of the man's green coat beneath and the way he wore both it and his pants were nothing like any other wizards he's seen.

Rather than leaving, the two sat down at one of the empty table, only a few dozen feet away from his own. The teen continued to scrutinize the stranger. How did he know Hagrid? Was he a new teacher? The man turned to face him again, and Harry ducked his head down.

The teen watched through his bangs as the blue-haired stranger turned back around, leaning in to talk to the half-giant beside him. Absent-mindedly, a hand reached up to his forehead, fingers tracing the scar. It was a distant throb; nothing too painful or bothersome, but enough to be distracting.

As the feeling slowly faded away, hand falling once more to rest on the table, the thump thump thump of heavy footfalls fell repeatedly on the wood floors, getting louder as it came closer to him.

Harry looked up just as large arms swept him up, pulling him close. His face was crushed into thick fur, a scraggly beard tickling his nose. A lopsided grin grew onto his face as the arms released him, setting him down on his feet.

"It's nice to see you too, Hagrid." The Boy Who Lived greeted, a wide smile returning the gesture. Harry's smile faltered slightly as he noticed the blue-haired stranger standing a little ways off, watching them. Hagrid followed his gaze, giving an exclamation of realization as he grabbed the other man by the arm, pulling him over.

The half-giant clapped the man on the back in a friendly manner, causing him to stumble. "'Arry! This's Jellal! 'E's staying at 'ogwarts for the year." Hagrid explained, grin never slipping from his face.

Somewhat reluctantly, Harry shook the hand reached out to him, staring more at the tattoo than at the man's eyes. "I-It's nice to meet you, sir." He mumbled, but the man smiled nonetheless.

"It's nice to meet you too. Harry, right?" The man—Jellal—replied, the mention of the teen's name causing Harry to stiffen out of shock. 'Jellal' seemed to notice this, giving the teen an apologetic look as his hand retreated under the cloak he wore. "Sorry," The man said, eyebrows raised in curiosity of the raven-haired boy's reaction. "Hagrid was telling me about you not too long ago."

The aforementioned man grinned sheepishly under Harry's gaze, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed. Harry merely shook his head in amusement—he could never stay mad at Hagrid for long.

The Boy Who Lived turned his attention back to Jellal—what a strange name, Harry thought—whose appearance held the stance of a practiced, though outwardly relaxed, fighter. Briefly, it made him wonder just what this man does for a living.

"Are you the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed in a questioning scrutiny. If he was, he surely wasn't a local. Did Dumbledore have a connection with this man in some way? Did the stranger owe a favor or was he simply a long-time friend? Or was he another Death Eater, infiltrating the school again? The questions came to a halt as Jellal laughed softly.

"No, no I'm not. I'll be helping some of the other professors, but I won't be a full-time professor or anything." He explained, waving off the idea.

Harry narrowed his eyes briefly at the man, but quickly turned his gaze away towards Hagrid.

"So, Hagrid, what brings you here?" He asked innocently.

"Jus' 'ogwarts business." The half-giant replied, winking. "Professor Dumbledore wanted me ta grab some stuff for the school year. Thought I'd bring Jellal 'ere along to see Diagon Alley." The man laughed, clapping his companion on the back heartily. Catching himself this time, Jellal smiled politely at the other.

Harry turned back to the blue-haired man. "You're not from around here then? Where are you from?"

Inwardly, Jellal groaned. He'd seen the suspicious glances the kid kept throwing at him, and he knew the expression people got when they were forming a plan. He could practically see the gears turning in the kid's head.

"You're not from around here then? Where are you from?" He granted the kid one thing: the brat was crafty.

Jellal did his best to put on a disarming, not-at-all-creepy-or-intimidating smile. "A way's away. Nowhere you've heard of, I'm sure." Harry's expression was innocent, but his eyes gave away his intentions. The school year hadn't even started yet and the mage was going to get found out.

"Try me." The blue-haired mage's smile faltered slightly at the challenge. His fingers twitched. How he'd love to pull a Sema on this kid.

…Well, in retrospect, that might be a little excessive.

"I'm from a city called Magnolia." The former Wizard Saint replied, trying and only partially succeeding in hiding his irritation. While the statement wasn't exactly true, the city—or more accurately the Guild and the Guild members within the city—held a special place in his heart. Cheesy as that sounds.

When the boy gave him a questioning gaze, Jellal laughed inwardly in triumph. "What country is that in?" Harry pressed, face now scrunched up in frustration. Jellal merely sent him a triumphant gaze.

"I answered your question. Why not find out?" He could hear the kid mutter in an irritated tone under his breath. Beside him, Hagrid merely looked on in blissful ignorance to the silent battle raging before him.

Jellal's Wand is 13 1/3 inches, with Pine wood, Phoenix Feather Core, and is Reasonably Supple.