Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and to everyone you reads this and puts up with me!

Sorry about how late in the day this is. I'm just now starting to get over whatever made me sick, and I slept most of the day. When I woke up, I was focused on food, and I didn't remember it was Friday until my girlfriend told me.

So, my excuses and apology henceforth given, let us move on.

Out of random curiosity, not related to this story, how many of you have tried to make a family tree? I have one, and I get all excited when I find something new, like somebody gave me ice cream. I don't even know why.

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Harry sighed and poked at the little fire he had made in the floor of the cave. It was small, but it went back far enough that the rain outside couldn't reach him where he was. Thunder boomed overhead and he glanced at the other occupant of the cave, but the unconscious man didn't even twitch.

He had been relieved that the naked man he had found had been alive, and seemingly unharmed, just unconscious and nude. Without any idea of what else he could do, he had slipped his thawb onto the man and carried him into the cave, laying him at the back end of it. He didn't look like a native, with his tanned but light skin and facial features more common among someone of European or American descent. His hair was a light brown, and there was enough stubble on his cheeks to suggest that he had gone a while without shaving.

Who was he? How had he ended up all the way out here? And naked no less? Harry could think of no plausible answers, and the man wasn't awake to answer his questions. What was he supposed to do with him? He would be continuing on his journey as soon as day came, assuming that the storm was done by then. What if the man was still unconscious? He couldn't very well leave him here...

He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. This was the sort of complication he really didn't need right now. He was far enough along that Mr. El-Amin's home was closer than Nizwa, but he still didn't know if the man would help him. He would be able to get there within the next day and a half, even if he had to carry the man, but it would take almost three to go back to Nizwa, and the hospital there, and if the man didn't wake up after a day or two he likely wouldn't make it that far. If he took the man with him to the author's, there was no guarantee the man could or would help the fellow (never mind his optimistic belief that the man would help himself).

He felt a headache coming on, and for a moment was glad for the rain, because, like the lake, it calmed him; easing the stress that had been building slowly since his coming to the desert. If nothing else, he could cross the possibility of snapping and killing someone off his list of things that were, or might, go wrong.

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The next morning the man still hadn't woken, though the storm had passed them at least, and Harry managed to get his magic to cooperate enough to cast the spell for making someone swallow so he could get a little water down the other's throat. He smoked another cigarette to calm the frustration he felt about the whole situation, and then he put his backpack on backwards, with the bulk against his chest, tying it in the back to keep it on that way, and carefully gathered the man up on his back with his limp arms around Harry's shoulders so he wouldn't drop him.

It was the best way to carry a person over a long distance, and so Harry set out. There wasn't a cloud in the sky to mark the storm from last night, and he glared at the sun that beat down on him. He had put the amulet on the unconscious man, since he needed it more, and even in shorts and a tanktop, without the thawb the heat was unbearable. If only everything had happened in winter, he could have handled the cold desert nights just fine.

They stopped several times, when Harry needed to rest or eat or relieve himself, and he got more water in the man whenever he did. This was apparently one of the few spells he could do properly with his magic going crazy, and he was thankful for it. He would have liked to try a spell to ease the effects of the heat, but he was loathe to try. If something went wrong and he hurt himself then both he and the unconscious man would likely be in a heap of trouble (not that they weren't already).

Harry managed to find an overhanging rock to camp under the next night, and he settled the man down before resting himself, lighting up another cigarette to ease his nerves. He had done so twice during the day, not including the one that morning, and he sighed when he realized he probably wasn't going to be able to quit them as easily as he had thought he would, once he returned to Bogdon. He wouldn't let himself worry too much about that now though. Frankly he had bigger fish to fry.

He eyed the man with a frown and look another puff. There didn't look to be anything wrong with him, but he hadn't woken up. It was like he was just sleeping. He didn't appear injured. There were no wounds on him, or blood or anything. Maybe he had a concussion. Harry shook his head in thought. No. If it was a concussion keeping him asleep, then he would have died by now. Maybe it had to do with magic. The man didn't have any himself, but not having magic didn't mean you couldn't be affected by it, or be attacked by a magical creature. Maybe someone had cast some sort of spell to put him in a coma. If that were the case, Mr. El-Amin might be able to help. He was a wizard after all, and he was old enough that he likely knew plenty of spells that Harry didn't.

He put out the cancer stick and laid down, staring up at the stars. There was no use worrying about it right now. Either the author would and could help them or he wouldn't/couldn't. There was nothing he could do about that, no matter how much he wished there were. He hoped all would go well tomorrow. He didn't know who the unconscious man was, but he didn't want him to die.

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In the end, he didn't have to worry so much, because when he woke up, the man was awake, sitting on a rock, and watching him carefully. He sat up and stared at him in surprise. He looked like he hadn't been passed out for as long as he had. He looked fine, albeit nervous. He watched Harry warily, almost like a frightened animal, except that there was no fear in his eyes. Harry frowned.

"You're awake." The man nodded. "You speak English." He nodded again and Harry just stared at him for a minute. His eyes were green, the teen noted. Green like his own. Definitely not a native then. "How are you feeling?"

"... Thirsty." His voice was raspy and Harry immediately moved to his bag. The man tensed up, and Harry kept his movements slow and deliberate so as not to startle him. What was he so scared of? Well, scratch that. He imagined he might be jumpy too if he woke up in a strange place near someone he didn't know.

"Here." He handed him a water bottle. He didn't have much left, but there was enough to spare for the man. He took it carefully with a muttered thanks, and took several gulps before he stopped and gave it back.

"Where are we?" Harry cocked his head to the side.

"The Jabal Shams mountain range." The man stared blankly. "North of Nizwa." Still nothing. "In Oman." That got him a look of comprehension, and, was that surprise?

"Oh... Is Nizwa a town?" Harry nodded, and wondered what kind of person traveled without even knowing where they were going.

"Yes. It's a three or four day hike south of where we are now. But I don't have enough water for you to go there." The man grimaced. "I'm heading to a man's house in these mountains. It's only another half day's travel or so. You..." He paused. "you could come with me. He should have water. At least enough to spare for you to make the hike South." Harry shrugged and quietly left out the fact that he didn't actually know if the man would be willing to spare some water. "Unless you'd rather take your chances." The man seemed to debate this for a time.

It took him nearly five minutes to respond, his face flashing through a thousand different emotions as he thought. Harry watched in something like fascination. Then finally, his shoulders slumped as he realized how unlikely he was to make it to Nizwa without dying of thirst.

"All right." Harry smiled at him, glad to have someone to travel with again.

"I'm Harry by the way."

"... Bruce." Harry nodded, feeling just a small bit happy that the man actually gave him his name the first time around (unlike some people he knew).

"Pleasure to meet you Bruce."

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Bruce was a quiet man, quieter than Muhammad. He seemed very shy, but nice, and Harry found himself talking as they walked. Bruce listened to him and nodded occasionally. He was forced to edit his stories a bit, since the man didn't have magic and couldn't know about it (he really hoped Mr. El-Amin didn't have any magical items out where anyone could see them), but he had fun talking anyways.

"-and then they set off fireworks and ran out. Umbridge was so angry her whole face turned red." The both chuckled.

"So these twins are friends of yours?" It was the first question he had asked Harry, and the teen grinned, happy the other had grown comfortable enough to talk.

"They're my brothers. Not by blood mind you, but their parents more or less claimed me as theirs so..." Bruce nodded.

"What about your own parents?" Harry's smile faded again.

"They're both gone. I lost my mum when I was still a baby, but my... Father died just a couple years ago." Bruce frowned.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I-" Harry waved him off.

"It's fine. You couldn't have known... What about you? You have any family?" Bruce shook his head.

"No. My mum died when I was small too, but my old man's been gone for years. I was an only child."

"No Aunts or Uncles or anything?"

"No. Just me." Harry nodded. "And you?" He asked. "Have any blood family left?" And Harry told him about the Dursleys.

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They had only been walking for a couple of hours when Harry happened to glance back at the man (since he was behind him then) to respond to something he'd said, and cursed. Bruce blinked up at him, and Harry pointed towards the distance.

"Is that...?"

"A sandstorm." Harry groaned. "Not again!" Bruce turned back to him and blinked.

"... Again?"

"Nevermind. We need to find shelter. It's moving fast. We can keep going once it passes. Damn it. I was almost there too." He continued to cuss under his breath about the bad luck, much to Bruce's amusement, and they hunted around for a place to take shelter. It was Bruce who found the tiny cave; more a hole in the rock than anything else, and the man helped him tie down a tarp from his bag over the entrance before they both squeezed inside. It was a small space, and their feet would have touched if they both spread out their legs from their seats at either end. Harry pulled out his cigarettes, which he hadn't done since the man had woke. "Do you mind?" Bruce shook his head, and Harry lit it up. They were quiet while he smoked, and the sandstorm hit them before he was halfway through it.

"I guess it's lucky we found a place when we did." The man remarked and Harry hummed.

"Yea. Hopefully this one doesn't last as long as the other one did."

"The other one?" Harry nodded and blew out smoke.

"When me and Muhammad were traveling to Nizwa from Ibri we had to stop because of a sandstorm."

"Muhammad?"

"He's... A friend I guess. Got me hooked on these." He waved the cigarette.

"How long did it last?"

"Hmm?"

"The other sandstorm."

"Oh. Nearly a whole day, maybe a bit longer." Bruce grimaced. "Yea. We don't have enough water for that. Even if it does last as long though I think we can still make it. We'll be parched, but..." Bruce nodded.

"Yea."

"... I'm sorry I don't have anything else for you to wear."

"Huh?" Harry pointed at the thawb. It had only fit Bruce because it was rather large on Harry. The American wasn't much taller than he was, but he was wider, too much so for any of Harry's other clothes to fit him.

"It's got to be uncomfortable walking around only in that." Bruce chuckled.

"I've had worse."

"Like sleeping naked on top of a desert mountain?" Bruce tensed, and Harry could see him rear up defensively before he even opened his mouth to speak. "Sorry. I won't ask." Bruce stared hard at him for a moment and then nodded, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

They both had their secrets, and that was okay.

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The sandstorm lasted until nightfall, and they wound up sleeping in the tiny cave. When morning came they were nearly out of water, and had to dig their way out since the tarp was buried a bit under sand. Despite the delay they made good time, and not even three hours later they came up a rise, and found an oasis below them. Harry couldn't help but stare.

It was a tiny valley in the middle of the mountains, and looked like a farm. There was a large pen on one side of the area filled with goats, and a couple fields next to it with crops of some kind growing. Then there was a large stone house, two stories tall, with smoke coming out of a hole on top and the smell of food filling the air. There was also a large pond next to the house filled with water, and palm trees grew everywhere.

Harry grinned, and they made their way down the rocks to the place. Harry nearly fell once, going too fast out of excitement, and Bruce had to grab his arm to stop him but in the end they made it down and up to the door of the house in one piece.

And then Harry knocked.

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The teen wasn't sure what he had expected when he first tried to envision Mahdi El-Amin, but the man who answered the door had not been it. Mr. El-Amin was a very tall and well built man with short salt and pepper hair, black eyes, and skin nearly as dark as Kingsley, but born from time under the sun rather than genetics. He had a strong jaw and nose, and came to answer without a shirt, his body showing thick muscles that were uncommon among older men, and even more uncommon among wizards. He had looked harshly down at them when they arrived and then barked at them to come in with a deep voice in a tone that had made it clear it was an order, not an invitation.

He and Bruce had both scrambled to obey the man and now sat at his kitchen table, the man himself stirring something in a pot and ignoring them entirely. Neither he nor Bruce dared to say a word, and the silence was broken only by the sound of a goat from outside.

"Fadil told me you were looking for me." Fadil? Oh. Mr. Samara. Harry glared at the table. That arse! He had known where Mr. El-Amin was the entire time! "I was not expecting your companion however. But it matters not." He poured some of the stew he had been making into three bowls, and Harry relaxed some when he realized they would be eating with him. He set a bowl down in front of each of them and sat down himself. He didn't eat right away, but rather stared them down.

"You will work. Both of you. you will tend to the goats and to the plants. In exchange I will teach you the control that you wish." He nodded at Harry.

"Um," Harry thought that Bruce must be a very brave man to interrupt this man while he spoke. "I just wanted to get some water, to, um, to travel back to the tow-"

"You need control too." Bruce stopped. "I feel it in you. A black anger." Bruce tensed, and suddenly looked as though he wished to run. "I will teach you also and you will learn. You will not leave here until you have." His eyes and expression were dark and the last sentence was directed at both of them. Harry blinked. Had they just become prisoners? "Eat now. I will show you where you can sleep when you are done, and tomorrow you will rise early to begin your work."

They both did as they were told, and the silence was a sombre one.

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He and Bruce were given separate rooms, something which Harry was thankful for, no matter how wonderful of a companion the man was. Bruce also seemed pleased at the privacy. Harry had gone quite some time now without being able (or feeling comfortable enough) to remove the disguise glamour and he relished in the opportunity to do so.

He felt the magic wash away with a deep sigh, and laid on the bed with his limbs spread out, his tail occasionally curling up and then hitting the bed with a soft thump. The house was cool inside, likely some form of magic, and it was nice to lay there in the cool air as himself, with his scales and horns and black hair and green eyes. There was a shower in the little room also, and upon remembrance of it Harry immediately moved to take one. Travelling through hot and dry desert mountains wasn't exactly good for hygiene.

The water was like the water in Nizwa. The taste and smell of dirt mixed into it even though the water itself was clean. How did he get plumbing all the way out here? Or was it some form of magic? Conjured water? But then, wouldn't the water be pristine rather than earthy?

He shook his head and decided that it didn't really matter. By the time he was done he felt much better, and he left the armor off and instead just put on normal clothing. The armor came in handy, but he had learned the hard way that it was no good for wearing in the heat, and he felt safe enough here that he felt he could go without it.

So he gathered it up in a pile and went back to his room, only to freeze in the doorway. Mr. El-Amin was sitting on his bed, waiting for him, and the man looked up at him when he came in. Harry's scimitar sat in his lap, outside its' sheath. He gave a the teen a once over and then looked away, entirely unsurprised and unbothered by the teen's true appearance.

"You have training with a blade?" Harry approached him carefully, and set his armor on the table near the bed.

"No."

"Then why do you carry one?" He turned the sword to examine the edge.

"I haven't been able to use my magic much lately. I figured it would be better to carry a weapon around, even without training."

"That is foolish. Having a blade you cannot use well is worse than having none at all." He slid it back into the sheath and set it next to him. "I will teach you this also. All men should be able to use a sword well, even if they will never have to."

"Thank you." Harry bowed his head, and the Arab man turned to study him. Harry shifted nervously under his scrutiny.

"The magic you possess now, you were not born with it." It wasn't really a question, but Harry nodded anyways. "Under normal events, you would learn control on your own, with time. But you are rushing." Harry nodded again. "Why?" The teen didn't need anyone to tell him that this wasn't a man he could lie to.

"There's a man I have to face." El-Amin watched him. "He's... He's evil, and it's my job to stop him. I can't do that if I can't even control my own magic." The man nodded. He asked nothing more, simply said goodnight and left Harry alone in the room.

Harry had much less trouble sleeping that night than he had expected.

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El-Amin's goats consisted of two types. There black and white in coloring, with floppy ears and little curved horns that didn't even come up to Harry's knees who jumped about like rabbits, and there were large white ones with pouting faces and long necks that came up to his hip. Of the former, there was about a dozen, and of the latter there were three. The three white goats were kept together, one being male and the other two female, and the smaller goats were separated by gender into pens right next to one another. All four pens had barn like buildings in them, with troughs filled with water and hay.

He and Bruce's first day consisted of learning how to care for them. El-Amin took carefully good care of his animals, which was good, except that it meant a great deal more work for him and Bruce. The goats needed to be fed, watered, brushed, petted, have their teeth and hooves and the males' horns checked daily. The two large females needed to be milked, and the milk put in a large thing in El-Amin's home that dripped it through a filter. The pens and barns needed to be swept, and all of the poop and excess hay tossed into a compost pile.

There were also chickens, in a pen behind the house. Everyday they needed to be fed and watered and checked on, and any eggs gathered up and brought inside, and checked if they were fertilized. If they were, they had to be put in a special box, with a light above it, and they had to be turned every six hours so that no side ever got too hot. The baby chicks were kept in a little cage next to the cage, and they had to be looked after too.

Doing all this took them almost half the day. He told them they would be working with the animals for the rest of the week, and then they would switch to the crops for a week, and back again after another week, and so on for as long as they were there. Whichever they weren't currently taking care of, he himself would be, and in this way he said he only had to do half the work. There were house chores too, but he and Bruce were put in charge of different ones.

By the time all of the work had been done, it was time for lunch, and he would feed them and then drag one of them off for teaching. The first day, it was Bruce, and Harry was kindly told to shove off and do whatever he pleased for the rest of the day so long as he stayed out of things and didn't break anything or bother the animals. Harry didn't see either of them again until dinner, at which time Bruce seemed more subdued than usual, and ran up to his room without a word as soon as he was done eating.

The next day, it was Harry's turn.

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The room he followed El-Amin to was more like a basement, as they went down a set of stairs to get to it. The walls, ceiling and floor here were made only of dirt, and it was large enough that in one corner Harry could see roots hanging down from the crops outside. Only the occasional beams of wood, with wooden poles coming down seemed to keep the dirt ceiling and the stone house above them from falling on their heads.

"Sit." There were no chairs, so Harry sat down on the floor, legs crossed. This seemed to be what the other wanted, because he nodded. "Where you come from, they have mind magics?" Harry nodded. "Explain them to me."

"Um... Well there's occlumency and legilimency."

"And these are what?"

"Occlumency is the art of creating barriers around your mind to protect it from intrusion, organizing your thoughts, and suppressing your emotions."

"And the other?"

"Legilimency is intruding on another person's mind to read their thoughts and see their memories."

"And this is all they have where you are from?" Harry nodded. "Have you learned these things?"

"I've learned occlumency."

"But not the other?"

"No."

"I see." He paced around Harry, and the teen made an effort not to tense up when he was behind him. "You learned..." Here he paused, as though to remember the word. "Meditation, as part of your learning?"

"Yes."

"Good. That will help." He came and sat in front of Harry. "You will need to trust me, if I am to teach you. You understand? There are two ways to teach you and because you are hurried, we must use the second. You cannot fight me." Harry swallowed. "Look at me. I must go into your mind for the beginning, to guide you." Harry took a shaky breath.

"Okay."

"Close your eyes." He did so.

It had been some time since he had had someone try to enter his mind, and he didn't know if it was that, or some level of skill on El-Amin's part, but he didn't feel him enter at first. When he did, he slammed his walls down on instinct. The Arab's voice rang through his mind, his deep baritone set in a gentle tone that made Harry think of crashing waves.

Calm, young one. Let me in.

He felt a touch on his walls, like a hand against stone. It didn't probe or push. It was just there, calm and patient, and waiting. He tried, and was surprised at how difficult it was. Only two people other than himself had ever been inside his mind to his knowledge. One had been Severus, who he very much trusted completely, even with recent events, and the other had been Voldemort, who had forced his slimy way into his mind without his permission. Harry didn't yet know Mr. El-Amin, and so didn't yet know if he could trust him.

After what could have been minutes or hours he finally managed to pull down his walls, and El-Amin's presence came in slowly, carefully, as though giving him a chance to change his mind. He poked at the presence, and felt a sense of amusement from it. Severus had felt like a snake in his mind most of the time, or water, slithering and slipping from one memory to the next, except when trying to break down his walls, then he was like an old battering ram pounding mercilessly. Voldemort was more like a raging bull, stampeding violently through his mind and leaving carnage in his wake. But El-Amin was like the Earth, strong and solid and just there.

Show me how you became this way.

An image flitted from the presence of himself, with focus on his scales and tail. He pulled up the memories.

Pain. Pain. So much pain.

He pushed them back.

Sorry.

...All is well. A different memory?

Okay...

He thought of times when he and Sirius had been researching the animagus transformation, and later the Mishipeshu, after his father had brought him to Grimmauld. El-Amin looked at them, shifting through carefully, gently, and paying special attention to the information they yielded. When it was done he could feel the man thinking, even if he couldn't hear the thoughts themselves.

Your sihr was changed then?

A little.

Not completely?

The question of 'when' seemed to hang around Harry, and he thought of the day they had escaped Hogwarts and those weeks after. El-Amin watched closely, perusing every detail and making Harry a little nervous.

You led the children to safety.

Yes.

You did well.

It was such a simple statement, but it seemed to mean so much, and Harry felt great pride swell in him despite himself. El-Amin's presence chuckled, and the sound filled his mind like the booming of thunder, or the smacking of war drums. He felt a pulling after that, like someone tugging on a sleeve, and he warily allowed it. It led him to the 'edge' of his mind, and felt almost like someone taking his hand and setting it on something.

He felt something, just outside his mind, and he frowned. It felt strong, and old, so very very old. He shifted, trying to reach it more. It wasn't El-Amin's mind. He knew that it wasn't. He just barely touched it, and then it seemed to take notice of him. Like poking a person who wasn't paying attention to you, and then having them look at you. And then it touched back.

Warm sun on his skin. Grass growing between his toes. Beautiful shade. A baby being born. Blessed rain falling down around him. Screaming and gunfire. Flames killing so much. Death bringing her children home to her.

He pulled back with a yelp, and then El-Amin was out of his mind and he was somehow on his back staring at the ceiling above him and panting. He could feel it still, just barely, like seeing something out of the corner of your eye that disappeared whenever you looked directly at it. He shuddered and gasped for breath but it wouldn't seem to come and he was suffocating-

And then El-Amin was there, rubbing his chest gently and whispering to him in Arabic with comforting tones. After a moment he found his breath again and seemed to come back to himself; to reality. He shivered, and the Arab put something to his lips. Water, it was water. He drank until it was pulled away and then just lay there catching his breath.

"What was that?" He gasped.

"It was Ard. The Earth." And Harry didn't really understand, but he nodded anyways, and then exhaustion hit him like a punch to the face.

And he slept.

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He awoke to Bruce's face, and immediately sat up. He yelped, and heard a similar sound from the other as their heads collided.

"Fuck!" He rubbed his head with a wince, his eyes watering just slightly because Merlin dammit if Bruce didn't have a hard head and that hurt. When he finally looked up he glared at Bruce who was sprawled on the floor rubbing his own temple. "What the hell Bruce?"

"Sorry."

"What were you doing?"

"I was checking your breathing."

"What?" Bruce sighed.

"You've been out for a while. I was checking your pulse and your breathing to make sure you were alright." Harry blinked.

"What are you a doctor?" Bruce shrugged and Harry sat up straighter. "Really? You're a doctor?"

"Kind of."

"Huh." All that time he had been worried about getting the man to a doctor and he was one. Bruce sighed and got up, settling himself on Harry's bed.

"How are you feeling?" Harry thought about it before answering.

"I'm alright, just tired mostly. And I have a headache now." He looked pointedly at Bruce, who's lip twitched. Harry glared, and his tail twitched irritably.

Wait.

His tail?! He looked down at himself, and his scales and his tail, then back up at Bruce with fear and horror. Where was his glamour band?

"Harry!" He caught Bruce's eyes and froze. The man put his hands up calmingly. "It's alright. Mahdi took that... Bracelet off you when he thought something might be wrong. He was worried it would get in the way of me checking on you."

"You... How are you not freaked out right now?" Bruce shrugged.

"You're not the first mutant I've met. I've never really seen anything that changes a person's appearance like that before, though. Nice bit of technology you've got." Harry blinked.

"Mutant?" Bruce stared at him like he had two heads.

"Well, yea. You do realize you're not the only one right? There's mutants all over the place."

"... Right." Harry made a note to look into 'mutants' when he got back to Bogdon. Or to ask El-Amin about them. Actually, he guessed he could call him Mahdi now. He had trusted the man enough to let him inside his head, he was going to call him by his first name.

"Anyways, you feeling up to the chores?"

Bruce laughed at him when he groaned and put his head in his hands.

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Since Bruce knew the truth (sort of, since he still didn't know about magic), Harry stopped wearing the glamour around Mahdi's home and the little farm. It was isolated enough that he didn't think anyone else was likely to come around, and he was happier without it than with it. He stopped wearing the armor, and stuck to loose shorts and short sleeves, or no sleeves with sandals. He almost wanted to go barefoot, but the sand was too hot for that.

Goats were strange little things. They were cute, really, at least the small ones were, but their eyes were unlike anything Harry had ever seen before and kind of freaked him out. They followed him and Bruce around when they were in the pens, and acted a little like dogs, except that they occasionally decided to start headbutting each other, which was actually pretty funny to watch. Harry liked them for the most part. He quickly came to hate the chickens however, who often crushed their own eggs in the attempt to fun from him, or chase him around flapping their wings and trying to peck him.

Bruce thought it was hilarious, especially given that none of them ever bothered him. He had been more relaxed since he had learned about Harry's true appearance, and the teen was at a loss as to why. Weren't things like this supposed to freak people out and make them afraid of you? Or something?

After that first night, Mahdi only took Bruce down to the basement, always with the order for Harry to meditate before they came back. The doctor was always more subdued at dinnertime, and the teen wondered what he and Mahdi were doing down there, since the shy man didn't have any magic. Just over a week had passed by, and they had begun working on the crops, when Mahdi took him down again.

But this time, he told the teen to bring his sword.

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"Give me your blade." Harry handed it over, and Mahdi pulled it from the sheath and swiped a hand along it. It glowed red as he did so, and though it faded some before he gave it back to Harry, the glow stayed minimally.

Harry stared at it, curious, and watched as Mahdi went over to a trunk on one side of the room, and pulled out a sword of his own. The sheath it had was much more professional, and the teen's eyes widened considerably when he pulled the blade from it.

It wasn't painted black like Harry's, but rather gleamed menacingly in the light. It was a similar make as his, but there were two spots, one near the middle, and one closer to the end, where the blade curved back and made 'hooks'. It looked deadly. Mahdi used the same spell on it that he had on Harry's, and he kept the sword pointed down as he approached.

"Keep both hands on your sword." Harry listened to him. "I will teach you how to fight one-handed later, but for now you will use both only. Keep your back straight." He poked at Harry's slightly slouching spine and the teen straightened. "Put your feet more apart. Not too much, just as far as your shoulders. Which of your hands is stronger?"

"My right."

"Then put your left foot forward some, and stay on the backs of your feet, don't put pressure on your toes. Yes, just like that." He continued to direct Harry's stance, occasionally poking at him or moving a limb slightly. When he was satisfied, he brought his sword up and directed Harry on how to hold it properly.

"What's all this for?" He shut his mouth as soon as he had asked, worried that the man might feel insulted, as though he were questioning his authority, but Mahdi didn't seem bothered at all.

"Your feet and the way you stand," He pushed the teen's chest and Harry took a couple steps back. "are to make it harder to knock you over, and also to make it easier for you to change direction quickly if you must. Your hands and arms are so that you can use your stronger arm to put power into your swings, and your weaker can control the precision of your strikes." Harry nodded.

"And my back?"

"If you keep your back straight and tense, you can move it more quickly, to duck or lean, which would be harder to do as swiftly if you slouched. Speed and motion and stability and precision are the most important parts of battle with a blade. Power and the sword itself are not so important as they are made to seem. Now come, raise your sword and set your stance as I showed you." Harry did so, and the man only corrected the placement of one foot.

He went to stand a bit in front of Harry, and raised his own sword. He brought it down towards Harry, though the movement was slow, and Harry blocked it with ease. Mahdi nodded with a small smile.

"We will start slow and then I will go faster. I wish to see what motions come naturally to you so that we can build on them. All men fight differently. Do not think so much in this, just let your body move."

And so they went. The blows came from in front, above, below, and the sides; first slowly, and then faster and faster until Harry was just managing to block them. The blades twanged every time they collided, and made a harsh shifting noise every time they slid against each other before pulling away. Mahdi began moving, and Harry was forced back and into different steps, entirely on the defensive. Finally, one particularly quick thrust got through, and Mahdi's blade hit his side.

He winced, and rubbed at the spot. He understood what the spell had done now, because the blow hadn't cut him, though it had felt like being kicked. Mahdi stopped after that.

"You did well. I have come up with something, but we will practice this another day. For now I wish to go into your mind again. You have been meditating?"

"Yes."

"Good." They put the swords up, and Harry found himself in the same position as before. "Now, close your eyes and we will begin."

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The second time was easier than the first. As soon as Harry closed his eyes, and felt Mahdi begin to come in, he could feel that presence from before, on the edge of his mind. It was there, just slightly, just barely, but its' attention was turned elsewhere, like before. He didn't have so much trouble bringing his walls up for the Arab this time, though they did initially slam down, and though he was wary about that strange presence he still didn't really understand, Mahdi's presence was like a balm on his soul, calm and comforting and there to ease his worries.

Calm young warrior.

He breathed in deeply and tried to do as told. He could feel memories flitting around them like hummingbirds, the way they always did when he was in his mind, and Mahdi let them pass him by, never reaching for any of them; never moving to invade the teen's privacy.

The walls you build to protect yourself are well done. Who was he who taught you the ways of this?

Memories of Snape came up, but Mahdi still didn't reach for them, leaving it up to Harry what he was shown. Harry grasped onto a memory of a more pleasant visit with the man, where they had drank tea and eaten sandwiches in his office together. He pushed it towards Mahdi, and the man's presence grasped it and watched. When it was over, he felt the Arab smile.

A man of honor. You trust him fully?

With my life.

All men need another to give trust to, so that they are not lost. Come now.

He let the other pull him along to the edge of his mind, despite his nervousness, and took more deep breaths. The old presence took note of them right away this time, and reached out first. Harry held his breath. But it wasn't like before. He felt moss beneath his feet, and warmth, like standing in sunlight. Something, like a leaf maybe, seemed to tickle his nose, and he laughed as though the sensation had been a physical thing.

He reached out on his own this time, understanding, even with the strange way of communicating, that the old presence was trying to apologize for what had happened the last time. He touched at it, and it let him, and then he was sucked into a world of sensation.

He was in the sea. He had never been in the sea before. The water was cold but wonderful, filling his mouth and lungs with the taste of salt as he breathed it in. Colorful fish swam around him in swirling groups and occasionally brushed against his scales as though saying hello. Merpeople and similar beings and creatures were dancing about him, singing and laughing and celebrating, and somewhere above them waves crashed in a beautiful and dangerous battle.

He was vaguely aware of Mahdi pulling back, but he didn't much care, too lost in the sensations of being in the sea. Then he was pushed back, the old presence bringing him home, and when it was gone and he opened his eyes he laughed with joy. Mahdi watched him with a smile, and even when the sleepiness set in and Harry passed out like before he didn't mind.

He would trade all the waking hours in the day to do it again.

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He wasn't unconscious for long like before, and woke up the morning after in time to do his chores with Bruce. He could hardly keep the smile from his face all day, and he promised himself that when he returned to Bogdon, he would go to the sea like he never had before, and swim there for a day before worrying about everything else. To experience what he had in the basement, in reality, would be more than worth telling the rest of the magical world to shove it for a few hours.

This time when he meditated, while Bruce was dragged off, he tried to reach out to that presence himself, and though he was only given the feelings of sun on skin and dirt between his toes, like he was still working outside, he relished in it. When the Arab man and the Doctor came back up for dinner, the former eyed him as though he knew exactly what Harry had been doing. There was approval in those eyes, so the teen imagined he had done something right.

Bruce wasn't even as subdued as he normally was that day, after a night in the basement with Mahdi. He smiled and chatted with Harry like normal, if a little quieter, though there was a sort of resigned air about him, as though he had finally come to terms with something that had been bothering him. Harry didn't know what was going on, but Mahdi's good mood hinted that it was a good thing.

About halfway through dinner, Mahdi excused himself, and so caught up in a discussion about the one goat that seemed determined to bury his head in the ground, Harry and Bruce hardly noticed. At least until a new voice cut in.

"No wonder you disguise yourself like you do. If I looked as freaky as you did I'd probably do the same." Harry started and his eyes snapped to the doorway, and the young man standing there.

"Muhammad?!" The other smirked.

"Miss me, idiot?"

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Behold the return of Muhammad. He wasn't gone long, was he?

Anyways, I thought I would now discuss last weeks question. What do I hate? The guesses were as follows: stupid questions, stupid people, prejudice, asshole bosses, Peruvian pan flute bands, raccoons, and strawberries.

I have no idea what Peruvian pan flute bands are, but, like true American, I shall hate them henceforth because they sound stupid.

As for strawberries and raccoons, I love them both, but only from a distance in concerns to the latter, as, up close, they terrify me.

As for stupid people, stupid questions, and asshole bosses, they all irritate the fuck out of me, but I don't hate them.

The winner was prejudice. I despise it in all its' forms. Congrats to whoever guessed this.

That said, it has nothing to do with why I'm Mr. Hate. Mr. Hate is actually a nickname from high school based on the fact that I was extremely nice to anyone I hated. The thing was, they usually hated me back, and would be rude and mean and make themselves look like asses when everyone else thought they had no reason for it. My friends, on the other hand, were in on the joke, and would laugh their asses off every time I did this.