Hidden Inhumanity

by ShadowedAuthor

Sequel to Silent Humanity – Into his second year in a strange world, Gaara struggles more than ever to maintain his sanity and wellbeing. The dangers are mounting all around, both to and from the displaced Jinchūriki.

6. Chapter 6: Same Old Pomp

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction. I will also add that any sections or phrases in this chapter that bear resemblance to works by either author or from movies based on works of said authors is recreated in the same spirit of free usage and is not for profit.

A/N: For those of you who read my half chapter when it was published in the New Year, read on from here.

To you, my loyal and long-suffering readers, I present a full chapter this time. This will include the rest of what would have been in chapter 5 as well as some other stuff from further on. I hope you enjoy.

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(Last Time)

Draco was always exhausted after he returned from these practices, which was the only aspect of the top secret activity that had managed to peak Gaara's curiosity. Draco had tried teasing him about it, trying to draw out some sign of frustration, but Gaara honestly did not care about the ceremony, beyond what could be encouraging Draco to exercise.

The next day, Potter finally decided to try approaching him during lunch, concern written all over his face, so Gaara had left early and hidden near his next class.

Sirius had replied to him with the anticipated lack of answers but he had mentioned hearing from Harry about some sort of spat between Gaara and he, without any specifics, so Gaara was cautious to avoid any interactions for the time being. Potter was either looking for a fight or to reconcile, and neither appealed to him at the moment.

Silence, after all, was golden.

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Draco stormed into their room covered in a fine sheen of sweat and snatched an apple out of the bowl on the side. He chomped into the juicy flesh with every bit of righteous fury he felt following the latest practice session in which he had been forced to participate. About halfway through the Golden Delicious, Draco yet again bemoaned this travesty and flopped into his chair to finish his snack and rest his aching feet.

"Before you ask, I still can't say anything about the ceremony." Draco drawled teasingly.

Gaara looked up from his book, noticing for the first time that Draco had returned. He looked tired. He must have been at another practice.

Disinterested, Gaara returned to his book.

Draco had made a final stand against the tyranny of Albus Dumbledore the week before, attempting to refuse the event altogether, having even spent a few evenings joining Gaara in the library following the disastrous full moon to look up legal precedents for disobeying Ministerial directives while Gaara did his own thing. By the end, he had a stack of papers and a stronger sense of entitlement than anybody had seen in him for years.

Dumbledore had not had time to see him and had referred him to Professor McGonagall, who was not interested in his research findings or his cogent arguments, she just told him he had to do it and to get ready for that evening's practice. When he tried one last feeble refusal, she scolded him in her harsh Scottish brogue and he wilted under her fierce determination.

He had returned to their room that night with his tail between his legs and had not wanted to talk about it, as Gaara recalled.

"Father is still angry, you know." Draco said, too exhausted to stand again after settling into his seat.

Gaara glanced up at him.

"He keeps insisting I reschedule my meeting with Dumbledore. I tried telling him it's useless but then he just starts up on how simple it would be to stop it on my end and how much grief the Minister is giving him at the moment."

"He's frustrated and powerless." Gaara said.

"Well, yes, I suppose…" Draco was still uncomfortable speaking against his father so openly. They lapsed into silence, punctuated by the sound of Draco's breathing evening out as he recovered after the moderate exercise. "What's worse is that she was there waiting for me again after we finished." Draco continued, scowling.

"That Lavato girl?"

"Lavado, yes. Keeps waiting for me. It's disturbing."

"Indeed." Gaara said, not overly worried about the forward girl.

"Mother always warned me about social climbers. When one considers she's climbing from an offshoot of the Weasley family, I think she has a long way to go before she can dream of being on my level." Draco smirked haughtily.

"She seems to want your attention."

"Of course she does. Little leech has been making the rounds, from what I've heard. Her attentions didn't stop with her year group, either. She's got a list of the five wealthiest boys in Slytherin and tried getting close to each of them. Unfortunately I'm the closest to her age, and my family is the richest by far…" If Draco was expecting to see some measure of awe or envy on Gaara's face, he was disappointed.

"So she has taken to following you."

"Well, at first she tried to ingratiate herself with me, but when that didn't work this stalking started."

"Have you told anyone?"

"You mean a teacher?" Draco scoffed. "Of course not. It's only to be expected that the most eligible bachelors in Hogwarts garner a little unwanted attention. Just because I happen to be amongst them, I can't go bothering a professor about it."

Gaara noticed Draco's inflating ego and wondered whether it would be helpful or harmful to burst it. He decided to let him have this personal victory, small as it was, since he had been having such a difficult start to the year in other regards. Gaara could do little else to help him, beyond having his apples replenished on a regular basis.

Of course, Gaara had troubles of his own. Beyond having to come up with some sort of plan or remedy for the next lunar cycle in a few weeks time, he had also gotten a troubling letter from Sirius yesterday morning. Sirius had warned him that the Ministry was trying to cause trouble again and was arranging a 'final debriefing interview' to be held at the castle.

Gaara had wanted to assume that the previous home visit had been the final Ministry imposition after the overblown matter of the World Cup Final. Even though Draco did not know the full story from the World Cup, he was offended on Gaara's behalf and they each commiserated with the other on the injustices perpetrated by the Ministry of Magic.

Draco had offered to come along to the interview, as moral support/backup, or contact his father for legal representation to be sent, but Gaara assured him that if he had need of a solicitor, Sirius could provide one. However, he wouldn't need any backup in this meeting as he was confident in his ability to stump a petty functionary from the Ministry of Magic.

The platinum blond was concerned that Gaara was being overconfident but nothing he said convinced the redhead to accept help so he forced himself not to worry over it.

"When is the meeting?" Draco asked.

"During lunch tomorrow. It shouldn't last long."

"Lunch? That's… a shame." Draco said. Of course, he was not referring to the nutritional deficit but the fact that Gaara would not be there to scare off his stalker. Ms. Lavado, like a number of first years who had heard the plethora of stories surrounding Gaara, was too intimidated to approach (read: accost) her target when the redhead was near him. Draco was not too proud to use his friend as a shield from this overly forward young woman.

Gaara didn't think it was so bad, at least this way he would not have to miss any lessons while having his time wasted at the interview. He continued reading the book Remus had sent him, Werewolves: The Truth Behind the Fangs: Volume III by Fergos MacTíre, who was supposed to be one of the few authors who wrote factually about lycanthropy.

Draco looked at the book in Gaara's hands and he was reminded of a thought he had during History of Magic the other day, which like all other thoughts during those lessons was not related to the history of the magical world. "Oh, Gaara, I just remembered…did you notice that on the full moon your clothes changed with you?"

Gaara had only been half listening to what Draco was saying so he was somewhat surprised to hear something of value in his periphery. "What?"

"Well, usually when you change, your clothes get left behind in a pile, right? Well, when you changed in the hallway the other week, your clothes disappeared. That's strange, isn't it?"

Gaara cast his mind back and wondered how he had missed not only the initial transformation but the enormous convenience of having turned back and not needing to search for his clothes. "You are correct. This must be because it was an animagus shift instead of a lycanthropic one."

"Animagi change with their clothes on?"

"Yes. It's part of the magic that alters the form, more akin to transfiguration than a curse."

"Oh, yes, I knew that! McGonagall showed us all her ability to turn into a cat in first year." Draco exclaimed.

"Professor McGonagall is an animagus?" Gaara said, trying to recall now if anybody had ever thought to mention that to him.

"Yeah. She'd probably show you if you asked, since you missed it. She doesn't seem to turn into a cat all that often, I don't think. I heard a rumour that she sometimes runs around at night like that, but that might have been part of a joke."

"I expect so."

"So, are you going to ask her?"

"No, I don't need her to demonstrate. I have seen enough animagus transformations." Gaara said.

"Right, because Black is one." Draco said, his voice dropping a decibel or two since he knew that was still a secret from the Ministry, which, his father had warned him, had ears everywhere.

"Yes." Gaara's memories were also drawn to the image of Pettigrew trying to escape him time and time again during his hunt at the end of last year.

"Well, it's still very interesting. I've considered learning it myself but I don't intend to go to all that trouble to end up with a rubbish animal."

"Like a tanuki?"

"I could settle for that, although I'm still not sure you really are a tanuki. I'll find you a picture of what they really look like at some point. Luna thinks you might be something like a red panda. Anyways, no, I mean like a mouse or an insect or something. By rights, I should be a basilisk or a dragon or something."

"I do not believe anybody has ever become a dragon before, though I did read one account of a woman turning into a snake, although it didn't end well for her."

"Wizarding stories about snakes almost never do." Draco sighed. "Maybe there have been more interesting animagi but they were clever enough not to write about themselves without registering with the Ministry."

"Possibly."

"Are you ever going to register?" Draco asked with a smile.

"Never." Gaara said resolutely.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It was at the beginning of the lunch period that McGonagall had approached Gaara and directed him to her office where the Ministry official was waiting. Gaara noted the singular and wondered if this meeting might actually be as innocuous and bureaucratic as the Ministry was claiming. Probably not. Even McGonagall looked suspicious, though that might be because she had been evicted from her office during her valuable lunch hour with a full stack of tests to be marked before her last lesson of the day.

"I have been asked to leave the two of you alone," She said as they arrived, "so I will be waiting outside the door if you need me."

Gaara nodded and paused to watch her transfigure a mop and bucket in the corridor into a chair and desk, impressive even to the cynical, before leaving her to her marking and entering the office. As he closed the door behind him, Gaara heard Filch interrogating McGonagall on which miscreant child had stolen his best bucket and mop.

Gaara stopped mid-step into the office when he saw who had stood to greet him, or, rather, who he thought he saw. Behind the desk was a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Henrick Morbidus, who Gaara had grave misgivings about being stuck in a room alone with.

"Gaara, I presume. I am afraid your reputation quite precedes you. My name is Pius Thicknesse, senior undersecretary for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement under Amelia Bones." He offered Gaara a hand to shake but Gaara just stared at it until it was withdrawn. "Of course, my apologies, you are from a different culture, one where handshaking is presumably not the custom?"

Gaara nodded slowly.

"Then let us begin without any further stumbles, shall we?"

The attempt at warmth was both disturbing and unconvincing from the gaunt figure behind the desk so Gaara did not indulge in the farce and kept the frown on his face as he took a seat.

"You needn't be nervous at all, Gaara. All I have are a few routine questions to conclude the unpleasantness of that night and then we'll be done." Thicknesse pulled out a sheaf of paper from his fine leather satchel and sat across from Gaara. "Now, if I could just take you back to that night, at what time were you alerted to the… incident taking place?"

"The Death Eaters attacked a few hours after the end of the match."

"Of course, the identity of the party who were involved in the incident cannot be conclusively verified and linked to the organisation understood to have served under the Dark Lord, despite indications to that effect, but might I ask, at what point did you come to the conclusion that the party were indeed a hostile element?"

Gaara's mood worsened when he realised this man would evade the truth no matter what was said to him. "When I saw them."

"So, you're assumption was based on their clothing?"

"I have seen pictures of Death Eater uniforms."

"And your inexperienced eyes prompted your aggressive actions? For which, I might add, you have already been cleared of any wrongdoing."

"They were already engaged in battle with several other wizards including Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Arthur Weasley."

"Yes, although I would hesitate to term the incident as including a 'battle', I understand that these three are your guardian, your onetime professor and friend of your guardian, and another associate. Would it be fair to say that your attack was in response to a perceived insult to them?"

"No. It was in their defence."

"Of course, I apologise for my wording. Yes, you were defending them. Might I ask, why were you, an untrained wizard of some fourteen years, defending three adult wizards of some renown?"

"No."

"Pardon?"

"You may not ask." Gaara said petulantly.

"Very well. One can hardly be seen to question such benevolence, I suppose." The man said, turning the page in his report. Gaara spotted a number of annotations to whatever was written on the parchment.

"The details of the… unfortunate bouts of violence have been spoken of adequately, so I will be brief."

Gaara nodded, doubting that any of what was to come out of the man's mouth would be brief.

"Were you in possession of your wand at the time?"

"Yes."

"And yet you decided to use a bladed weapon, an explosive artefact of some description, and your charmed sand to engage the aforementioned party?" Thicknesse stole a glance down at where Gaara's sand was concealed by the edge of the desk.

"Yes."

"And now I have only one question left. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Gaara did not answer. "Yes, well, I just need to know who your parents are, or were, as the case may be."

"They are deceased. Their identities are private."

"Am I to understand that you are refusing a direct and official request for information?"

"Yes."

Thicknesse stared at the defiant teenager, having expected the child to buckle under the pressure. The warning he had received about him being something of an irregularity rang in his ears as he reformulated his approach. He didn't have long left before the assistant headmaster would use the end of lunch as an excuse to interrupt.

"Well, I can tell them I asked, can't I." Thicknesse smiled conspiratorially. He began to laboriously shuffle and pack away his papers under Gaara's watchful gaze. "I must admit to being impressed by your composure. It is not very often that one has dealing with someone your age who is not at all intimidated by an authority figure."

Gaara was not prompted to answer.

"But then, conventions are clearly not your style." He continued to smile at him, making Gaara's increasingly uncomfortable, and then looked to Gaara forehead. "I was told you had a tattoo but I had expected something a little less… noticeable. Quite the statement."

Gaara kept is silence. He preferred not to talk about his tattoo anymore.

"In this country, it is illegal for children to be given such marks, especially on such a painful and visible area."

Gaara let out a little sigh, realising that this wasn't merely small talk but the second half of the interrogation.

"That's a Japanese character, am I right? I don't know that offhand, you understand, it's in your file. However, you aren't from Japan, yourself…"

Gaara found the similarities between his home world and this 'Japan' to be fascinating, but he still kept quiet.

"But you would rather not discuss that. I understand. It does make for an interesting appearance. Your hair is another curiosity one might mention, such a bright shade of red, and yet I hear it is not dyed. Curious. But then, one does not control ones innate appearance, does one. Do your siblings share your hair colour?"

"Siblings?" Gaara questioned. It was not outside of the realm of possibility that the Ministry had somehow become aware of his mentioning Temari and Kankuro, as they had somehow discerned that his hair colour was natural, but it was more likely he was guessing. The hair colour thing might have been a well-aimed guess too.

"Oh, you don't have siblings?"

"Do you?"

"Why do you ask?" Thicknesse asked, a slight sneer appearing on his otherwise political face, amused by the teenager's attempt to redirect the question back at the interrogator.

"I met a man who looked like you. Morbidus."

Pius raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Henrick, of course. I did know that you two met, I believe. We do share something of a resemblance, as I recall, but despite our familial and vocational connection, we haven't crossed paths in a number of years. His have always been somewhat more… proactive ambitions, than my own. Never much one for family get-togethers, you might say."

Gaara tried to work out whether this disclosure was in order to prompt one of Gaara's own, to engender trust between them at last, or if it was simply a musing on the other's man's part. It mattered not as Thicknesse's expression cleared of its thoughtful reminiscence and turned back to a calculated joviality.

The door suddenly opened and in came Professor McGonagall, stopping whatever probing statement Thicknesse was about to make in its tracks. She strode right up to the desk and dropped her own paperwork back onto it, maintaining eye contact with the Ministry official from the moment she entered.

"I am afraid lunch is over, Mr Thicknesse." McGonagall said with false pity on her face, "Unless you wish to keep Gaara from his lessons, he will have to leave now."

"Already? Well, that is quite alright; we finished a moment ago, actually. We've just been chatting, haven't we, Gaara?" He said, glancing briefly to the redhead, knowing no dispute would be admitted. "I am terribly sorry to have disrupted your lunch as I have. Now if I could just have a few more moments of your time, Professor, I should be able to submit my report in full. Gaara, thank you ever so much for your time and your company; it has been a delight, talking with you."

Gaara took this to be his dismissal and left without a word. The British ability to mask one's disdain with politeness was still beyond his political capabilities. If he was to be under attack, whether physically or, as just happened, verbally, he would not play along with the fiction of friendliness. Or maybe this was just what Kankuro had tried explaining to him from their own culture, this concept of 'tact'.

As he stood by the closed door, he overheard a little of Pius' continued interrogation, "Needless to say, we have the transcripts of Gaara's time at Hogwarts, but if you could fill some of the holes in our records…"

Gaara drifted away, not needing to hear any more. McGonagall knew very little about him that the Ministry did not already know, and she had doubtless been instructed on the matter by Dumbledore when this meeting was announced, so he did not need to hear her evasions after having spent his lunch giving his own. The lengths the teaching staff had gone to last year, when they were attempting to shield him from Morbidus were testament to their devotion to the headmaster and his schemes.

Unworried as he was about McGonagall and this Thicknesse man, it did concern him that the Minister was sending members of different departments after him now. When previously he had relied on his investigators, headed by Morbidus, which seemed to perform various dirty jobs for the Minister, now he was pulling in other departments to spy. That indicated a worrying investment of resources on delving into his secrets.

Gaara was strong in both power and spirit but even he could not fight off the combined might of the Ministry of Magic, not to mention the rest of the wizarding world who might seek to control or destroy him should his secrets become known in their entirety.

He was supposed to be in a lesson of some sort right now but without his timetable or Draco nearby, he had little hope of recalling which classroom he should be in, in the next five minutes, so he gave up and headed out into the forest to work out some frustration. Without the dementors, his workouts were considerably less invigorating, but the acromantulas would do in a pinch.

It helped that this afternoon he managed to kill the largest spider to date, the size of a stallion. After that achievement, he had retired to Fluffy's area and spent some time with the stupid, annoying dog. A few hours of wasted time later, he returned to the castle and gave a half-hearted explanation to Draco, who had been worried when he did not show up to Herbology after the meeting with the Ministry official.

Gaara wrote to Sirius to tell him about the meeting, disclosing its true nature and its failure, as far as he had been able to judge. After those brief few lines had been scratched, he cast his mind back to the last letter he received from the man for anything he might answer. He came up short since the only other thing Sirius seemed concerned about was to do with Harry and Gaara's relationship, which Gaara had no intention of improving or discussing.

Setting the envelope aside to take to the owlery later that night, Gaara sat back on his bed and observed Draco's tense shoulders as he completed an assignment from one of the classes Gaara had skipped today. Draco seemed stressed all the time since they returned to school. Whether it was his father, the Ministry-enforced practices for this opening ceremony, the Triwizard Tournament itself, his challenging schoolwork, or some other factor, he had not been able to relax since he arrived and Gaara was beginning to feel responsible, having failed to remedy it.

This failure was not for lack of trying, both conceptually and practically; however, Gaara's attempt to reinstate their shared fitness regime to improve Draco's health and mentality had gone down in flames. And Gaara's desire to murder Lucius was deemed ill-timed since, rather than solving Draco's problems, it might cause him even more hardship. The platinum blond seemed to be totally incapable of bearing a grudge against his father, since he had not stopped following his father's bidding and would still not hear a bad word said about the man.

So, exercise was out, as was patricide, so what did that leave?

Confections seemed to cheer up other teenagers. Or…

Gaara was not suited to this task. Kankuro would have been incapable too, but Temari might have managed. And he would have known exactly what to do and say to get Draco out of this turmoil. That was what he did: see through the darkness of others and help them find another path.

Would ramen noodles help Draco? Doubtful.

Gaara's problems did not decrease as time wore on. When October was in full swing, yet another trial was heaped upon him, this time in the form of a new article by Ms. Rita Skeeter. Her articles had been growing in popularity, evidenced by their frequent inclusion in the front ten pages of the Daily Prophet, but within Hogwarts they were notorious. After the series dealing with Gaara and the school, she had drifted away to talk about all kinds of disparate subjects, none of which Gaara felt he knew better for having read her poorly researched and badly written pieces.

This morning, however, her focus had shifted back to the school and it did not bode well for anyone present that she had. Gaara had taken to checking the paper since that first article, not as a matter of narcissism, expecting another article to feature him, but from habitual morbid curiosity and a growing sense of inclusion in this world's affairs.

The latest of her weekly columns was titled: 'The Past Villainies of Professor Severus Snape.' Already Gaara was holding back a veritable groan of frustration. He had just about managed to avoid any conflict with the man since his return to Potions classes, and that had been aided in no small part by the lack of (perceived) antagonism from Gaara or anybody else during these peaceful weeks. Putting Snape in a foul mood, as this article assuredly would, did not mean anything good for Gaara.

As Gaara read over the article, he decided to risk Dumbledore's ire and skip the next couple Potions lessons.

Skeeter had a flexible working relationship with the truth and employed it as scandalously as she could. The article mistakenly alleged that Snape had been friends with Sirius, Remus, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew in school, and that he had helped Remus, a known werewolf, to conceal Sirius from the dementors last year, prolonging the public panic and preventing the Ministry from capturing Sirius and exonerating him earlier. It then segued into a paragraph on Snape's criminal past as a Death Eater and questioned why such a dangerous character had been forgiven his crimes by Albus Dumbledore and offered a job around children. Especially, it added, when he was known to be such a bully to both the Boy-Who-Lived and the Defender of Hogwarts that they both cried themselves to sleep most nights.

Normally this sort of aspersion on his character was enough to make Gaara angry but he doubted even the simpletons of this world, anybody who knew or had met him, at least, would ever believe he cried over something like that, or that he went to sleep every night. That said, Gaara was not pleased to be continually used as a prop in her stories.

Skeeter finished by saying that it was only through her diligent investigative reporting that she had uncovered such travesties, as Snape was steadfastly blocking all press access to both boys to keep them from speaking out about him.

Now, Snape would surely know that Gaara had nothing to do with an article like this, nor would Potter for that matter, and yet when it was pointed out to him by the ever-helpful Professor Vector sat beside him, Gaara knew this would come back to him. And sure enough, a scant few minutes later, Snape's eyes shot up to meet his, and Gaara got to the impression he should not have been looking in the man's direction at that moment.

Draco pitied him but that feeling fled him when he saw that Dumbledore was waiting to talk to Gaara after lunch, actually having stood by the exit of the Great Hall to catch him. The students who walked out before and after him were just as surprised and all conversation hushed in the vicinity.

"Gaara, I just wanted to remind you of the agreement we made concerning your return to Potions earlier this year. I understand that a rather upsetting column has been written by Miss Skeeter, and not for the first time, but Professor Snape will act professionally, as I assured you."

"Good." Gaara said, annoyed to be predicted so easily. Now that his truanting had been pre-empted, he could not plead ignorance when Dumbledore raised the issue of the deal later. That wily old man!

Potions later that day was… tense would be the best way to describe it. True to the headmaster's word, Snape was less openly hostile to Gaara and instead spent the entire lesson watching and waiting for the slightest provocation so that he might be excused in his tormenting the boy. However, Gaara was used to avoiding giving such excuses, although that had been to stop his father from killing him rather than keeping an emotionally unstable teacher from snapping. More of a reversal of roles, really.

Snape was on the warpath all that week after he failed to work out his anger on the innocent students he had his eye on. It did not help his mood that all during that week, he received complaints from members of the public, the majority of which seemed not to have children currently attending the school, about his teaching style, his history, his looks…

Dumbledore's promises that it would all die down in another week or two were the only thing that kept him from going through with his longstanding threat to quit.

The weeks wore on and it was in the middle of October when the painfully mundane day-to-day life of an inter-dimensional Jinchūriki attending a magical school was punctuated by a noteworthy event, by his standards. This day was the day that his last hope of finding his home unaided was dashed.

Early into his research in this world, Gaara had identified the four major areas of magical theory to be explored once he determined that no mainstream magical discipline applied to his problem. Over the course the past ten months since he made that determination, he had researched and read around these areas one by one. Each had its own complications and complex rituals and spells to be tried before it could be set aside and another could be explored.

Of the four, Gaara had spent the past eleven weeks delving into the last and today he was going to apply what he had learned of that theory. If it failed, as his creeping doubt was predicting, there was nothing else to do. Nothing else in current fields of magical theory, so any further attempts might take years or even decades of research to explore whole new disciplines.

The extra help he had received in Arithmancy this past month had been invaluable, and he had even run some of his base equations past Professor Vector, careful to avoid any insinuation of what he was really working on. Granted, he was still very much a novice in the art but if this ritual panned out, he could continue to learn and use it to act on the information he was hoping to gain.

Tonight he was performing a ritual that should, if it worked according his calculations, reveal to him his place of origins, give him a view of that place, and theoretically it should give him an indication of what method he might employ to get there. He had tried spells to this effect before but this obscure branch of arithmantic formula was known to accommodate multiple dimensions. Granted, notes on those dimensions never described anything close to Gaara's home, but if the magic was piercing the universe itself, there was no reason it couldn't reach to Sunagakure.

While it seemed like his most promising opportunity yet, it being his last chance was what weighed on his mind as he finished setting up the circle of runes around a designated spot on the floor. As he understood it, he would need to visit a much more powerful location than Hogwarts, and posses a great deal more knowledge, should he wish to follow the information provided to travel across the pierced dimensions.

He had tried explaining all of this to Draco as he worked, spending hours setting up the requirements for the ritual, the complex array of runes, the candle formations, the different ingredients, the translations of ancient and discarded spells, but this had quickly bored the blond and the conversation had moved on to tales from Draco's earlier education.

Draco was fond of filling Gaara in on the goings-on of Hogwarts before he had arrived, which Gaara was happy to indulge since some of the stories were rather informative. The Basilisk story was interesting, to say the least. Although, the dubious role Lucius seemed to play in it was disturbing. Draco had not said as much but from what he seemed to know about an intensely private affair, it was clear his father had played some role in events that nobody in the Malfoy family would be eager to see uncovered.

Similar to that one, this story concerned the detested Gryffindor trio that Draco seemed to hate and revel in discussing in equal measures. Gaara had decided it was a pantomimed type of hatred, that Draco drew as much satisfaction in the appearance of a vicious rivalry with Potter as in the actual hatred and conflict.

"And there was a great big chess board. Of course, I don't for a minute believe that it was as big as they say, but even if it was half that size, it must have been something!" Draco exclaimed.

"How did you hear about it?" Gaara asked again.

"Oh, those three are a bunch of braggarts, honestly. Can't wait to go shouting about their latest adventures, as if they're really that impressive. The only thing they're good for is storytelling." Draco said. "Anyway, they all had to take positions and Weasley says he was the one who played them across. Obviously Granger would have helped, but it seems Weasley is actually not as bad as you would believe at playing the game, or so I've been told."

Gaara looked up from his sheets of calculations to check if Draco was okay. Admitting any virtue in a Weasley was tantamount to declaring undying love for Albus Dumbledore and all of his muggle-loving ways, in the eyes of Draco.

Draco noticed this attention and continued, "Loathe as I am to admit it. I suppose everybody has to be good at something. Shame his isn't magic or anything that could make him money one day. I'm sure it wasn't that hard a game, anyway. If Potter could chase down that key with his shoddy flying skills, all of those games must have been set at the level of a ten year old."

Gaara could admit that Potter's skills on those ludicrous flying brooms was above average but it was difficult to take Draco's assessment of Ron's chess skills seriously when Draco himself was a terrible player. Gaara was, by his own estimation, not altogether untalented at the game, and beating Draco was typically rather easy. The boy had no head for strategic thinking.

"Anyway, after he nearly got himself killed, Potter and Granger went on and somehow Potter ended up killing Professor Quirrel and destroying the Philosopher's Stone."

"He killed him?"

"Well, as far as anyone's been told, Potter did nothing wrong, but it's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"He was able to kill a professor?"

"No, he must have snuck up behind him or something, but it's the only thing that could have happened. Dumbledore didn't get back until later and the other Professors didn't know what was happening until after."

"I don't believe Potter killed him." Gaara said, less sure than he admitted. He did not want Draco spreading hurtful rumours, true or false. Realistically, it seemed unlikely that someone of Harry's background and combat skill, as well his magical aptitude after only one year of teaching, could defeat a full-grown wizard, especially not one specialised in Defence Against the Dark Arts. That said, there was something about Potter that gave the opposite impression, a certain fierceness about him that made Gaara think twice about his dismissal of the story.

"More troubling is that the tests to keep Voldemort or Quirrel out of that hiding place were circumvented by three eleven-year-old Gryffindors." Gaara said.

"That's my point!" Draco said excitedly, going on to make several more accusations of incompetence against their headmaster.

While before, Gaara had always humoured Draco's hatred for Dumbledore, since the man was either a buffoon or a master manipulator for admitting Gaara to his school with so few questions asked, now he was reluctant to nod along. Aside from the promise of help in his plight, Gaara could now see some of the cogs turning in that ancient man's head and the last thing he would call him is incompetent.

"And this stone?"

"The Philosopher's Stone was supposed to be this alchemical masterpiece that could turn lead into gold and give the user eternal life."

"Immortality?" Gaara could imagine another snake-obsessed old man who would have killed for such a substance.

"Yes. It was made by Nicholas Flamel, who was a genius who lived to be over six hundred years old! He died last year I think, or maybe the year before. With the stone being destroyed, it's no wonder really. Another triumph for Potter, there."

"Why did he destroy the stone?"

"I have no earthly idea. I would have kept it. I don't need the gold, of course, but living forever would be nice."

Gaara went back to his preparations, unsure of such a notion. To him, immortality came with a heavy price, knowing what he did about Orochimaru, so the idea that a simple stone could provide it without cost was a curious thought.

"I met him at a party once, when I was about seven, I think. Nicholas Flamel, and his wife." Draco said. "Father has a picture of him standing next to him somewhere."

Draco then proceeded to list all of the famous witches or wizards his father or he had met over the years, none of whom meant a thing to Gaara.

Another half hour and the ritual was ready, and coincidentally this was the time when Draco finally ran out of famous names to drop. He had ended with the muggle Prime Ministers his father had been forced to meet with when the official liaisons had been ill or deemed too junior to make certain accords and Lucius had been forced to step in.

Draco retreated to the far end of the room unprompted when Gaara was about to start, unsure of what sort of effect this ritual would have but not wanting to be too close should it be energetic. When dealing with dimension-piercing magic, a good rule of thumb was to keep a ten foot exclusion zone around the ritual area, Draco decided.

Gaara started chanting something softly that sounded more Germanic than the Latin based spells they were taught, while stood in the centre of the array. Draco watched and waited, feeling a pit of dread in his gut as it proceeded. It was a long and uninterrupted spell, Gaara had warned him, but Draco could not find it within himself to sit at that moment.

The chanting was indeed dull but towards what Draco anticipated to be the end, lights started to flicker and flash all around Gaara in a random sequence. And then nothing.

Gaara came to the end of his long and impressively memorised spell and then he simply stopped talking. Draco held his breath, waiting for some wave of… something, or some final flash, but instead Gaara trudged forward, heedless of the scuffs he left on the carefully drawn circle, and sat down on his bed.

"Is that it, was that the end?" Draco asked after Gaara did not move again.

"Yes, that was the end."

"And?" Draco entirely failed to grasp the clear disappointment on Gaara's downturned face.

"It failed. There is little else I can try now, to find my home and return there."

"Oh."

"I may never return to my home or see the people there ever again."

From a weaker boy, or one who had a healthier connection to his emotions, Draco expected tears would have been trailing down Gaara's cheeks, instead his face betrayed nothing of what he was feeling. When something like this happened, Gaara's stoicism became a lot less admirable. Beyond the pity, however, there was relief in Draco's heart.

"I don't know if I should say this," Draco said, sitting down on his own bed directly across from Gaara, "but I am a little glad. I know it's horrible to say it but I'm happy that you won't be disappearing forever."

Gaara looked up at him, his face still blank but at least he wasn't glaring.

"And Mr Black and Professor Lupin and Lovegood, and I'm sure other would miss you too. You've been here for a year already and none of us want you to leave again."

Gaara did not know how to respond, again. He had never considered that he would be abandoning the people here. Going home had been his all consuming goal for so long that the bonds he had fostered with the people here had been taken for granted. He could never have predicted that he would develop so many bonds in such a short time here. And now that he had precious people here… he still had to return home.

If it was still possible, he had to find a way back to his people. They needed him, whereas he was a liability to this world and its order.

Gaara refused to lie to his friend about this so he stayed quiet.

Draco tried to read something from Gaara's porcelain face but nothing was showing through. What did this silence mean?

Draco waited and still nothing was said, and then Gaara was looking down at the floor instead of staring right at him so Draco took the break in the conversation to sit back on his own bed. He decided that Gaara's silence and his solemnity was a sign that he was going to be staying. This was his way of expressing his desire to stay in this world with everyone here.

That was what Draco chose to believe that night.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Sirius sat upright with a cup and saucer in hand and tried to work out if his throat was as exposed as it felt. A trait from his time spent as a dog was that whenever he felt threatened, he wanted to cover his vulnerable throat from any potential attacks. Illogical for most human threats but as Narcissa peered over at him from her seat, he could not be sure that she would not sink her teeth in.

She really hadn't changed since they were children, he thought. She said the same about him, but for vastly different reasons.

She had 'popped around' for tea fifteen minutes ago and so far they had covered the typical pleasantries and already Sirius was (and he couldn't believe he was even thinking this) missing Lucius' presence. Cissy was a scary girl who had grown into a scarier woman and at least when Lucius was here, she was focussed on stopping a fight breaking out. Here and now, she was speaking with him and he had no idea why.

She was not the type of person to visit out of familial sentimentality, not when it came to him, and she was not being forthcoming with her real reasons for visiting. Unless she really was just here to chat…

He was hoping she might throw a curse at him, otherwise he would have to keep his face from scowling or from slipping some Irish into his coffee until she decided to leave.

Narcissa had to keep her face from smiling as Sirius squirmed. This was a veritable flashback to her childhood, when he had been an awkwardly scrawny little boy trying to avoid his three sadistic cousins when they came to visit.

Today, she had come to visit for two reasons: one, this was what family does, or so she had been told; and two, Lucius happened to be on a minor diplomatic trip to Germany this week and the manor was very empty without Draco or him to keep her company. The discomfort it caused Sirius was nothing to do with it whatsoever.

"So, dear cousin, please remind what you've been doing with all of your free time, as of late?" She asked, noticing his frequent glances to the drinks trolley and hoping he was not following in their unfortunate forbearers' footsteps and drinking away what little remained of the Black family fortune.

"Well, a little bit of this and a little of that…" Seeing that she wasn't satisfied with his vague answers, he added, "And I've been trying to fight some of those ludicrous new anti-werewolf laws being written at the moment."

"You're fighting against them?"

"Well, yes, of course I am. I've known Remus for a long time and he's never been anything but a gentleman to me. Other than on the nights of the full moon when he forgets his manners a bit…"

"Yes, your werewolf friend whose been living here…" She looked around as if she was going to find chew marks on the furniture or shed fur all over the floor, all of which would have come from Padfoot rather than Moony.

"Remus, yes. Sadly Hogwarts had no need of his services this year and those laws have made alternative employment nearly impossible, so today he is out again trying for one of the few positions that might still be allowed to employ him. Stupid laws."

"Seem reasonable to me. They are dangerous."

"Not so dangerous when he was teaching Draco last year."

Narcissa paused in sipping her tea. "That was an awful shock, let me tell you."

"Yes, well, he was shocked, but Draco is a nice lad so Remus overcame it fairly quickly." Sirius smirked until Narcissa shot him a look and he had to act like a scolded child.

"I'm not doing that much for him. Nothing any half-decent friend wouldn't do."

"Housing him, feeding him, helping him find somewhere to… transform? And more?"

"That's about right, I guess. With how much the old parents left me, it's nothing extravagant. I could keep a whole pack of the moochers around the place and it wouldn't dent it."

"Yes, well, if you were to invite any more of those things to stay with you, I shouldn't expect Draco to visit again."

"I would have thought you would be more accepting of them, considering You-Know-Who's position on werewolves."

Narcissa did not appreciate Sirius raising such an uncomfortable topic at afternoon tea and she let him know it.

"If you ever met Greyback, you would understand my reservations in endorsing that particular branch of the Dark Lord's philosophy."

"Well, he gives them all a bad name, that's for sure. But really, Cissy, is this dissent in the ranks I smell?"

"Simply healthy disagreement, as you would find in any movement."

"Yes, a 'movement,' that's definitely what I would call your lot."

"Must you drag us into an argument when none is called for? I did not come here to start a fight over the rights or wrongs of the war. Can we not sit down like civilised witches and wizards and enjoy afternoon tea?"

"Fine. Yes. You're right. No need to start fights." Sirius said. "I've not only been helping Remus with his fight. I've been working to help rebuild some of the family vaults. Father left them in something of a state, so the goblins and I have been reworking the portfolio."

"You've been actively directing your own investments?" Narcissa's face was not as political in that moment as perhaps would have been polite.

"Yeah, I have." Sirius said grumpily. "It's not so difficult once they explain it all to you."

"And the goblins aren't taking advantage of you, are they? You know how they can be."

"Yes, I know exactly how greedy those little monsters can be but I have them well in hand. I've got them sending me daily reports on all the accounts and any movements therein. Giving them no room to do me over."

"Prudent." Possibly the closest to a compliment she had paid him all afternoon. "I've thinking of having Lucius teach Draco about the family finances next summer. It's never too early to take an interest in one's own future interests."

"I'll take your word on that, but I expect he would enjoy that. Definitely seems to take after Lucius, he does."

Narcissa searched Sirius' face for the barest hint that that had been an insult against Draco, her inner Gryffindor looking to jump out and play the part of the lioness protecting its cub. Seeing nothing overt, she let it be. "Well, I think he takes after both of us. Strong like his father but not without his… sensitivities…too."

"I noticed something like that. Then again, with his age, I couldn't be sure just how much of him is from the two of you and how much is him being a teenagers and taking after his friends."

"He knows better than to let anybody his own age change his mind."

"Except Gaara." Sirius said.

"Those two are very close, yes, but…" Narcissa did not know whether either of them would believe it if she claimed Gaara had not had any effect on her son. Such a blatant lie would not serve to move the conversation forward.

"It's to be expected. You remember how I was after I met James and Remus."

"I hardly think I need to be reminded of that summer. I still recall the floo call between father and Uncle Orion. First time I had heard such profanities uttered aloud."

"Yeah, I got the first half of that directed at me."

"Well, Draco has not made any sort of declarations to Lucius or I, like you did. All the better that he didn't."

"I should hope not. Father was angry but he had his ways about him. I can only imagine what Lucius would do if Draco came home and said he wanted to marry a muggleborn or try a year in the muggle world."

Narcissa pursed her lips. She would not utter a word against her husband, especially not to Sirius, but she had the same concerns at the start of the summer holidays. Luckily, as always, Draco was not as stupid as his first cousin once removed.

"Anyhow, Gaara is not the same sort of person as James Potter. Altogether more sensible." Narcissa did not want to upset Sirius so she avoided any more colourful words against her cousin's best friend.

"In that, we can agree. I don't think I could compare the two in any way but the quality of our friendships. The boys are close, and entirely aside from any difference you or I or Lucius might have, they do seem to be doing some good for each other."

"I'm glad we can agree on this."

Sirius did not mention the letter Draco had sent him only a few days before then, enumerating the conversation he had had with Gaara regarding his stay in this world. Draco had been sure that Gaara would never think to discuss this with Sirius so he had relayed the conclusion of Gaara's apparent last hope of finding and reaching his home and the reality that he was stuck here. Sirius, as Draco had been, was delighted by the news and was happy to not have to pretend otherwise in front of Gaara at that moment.

The letter had been welcome and very helpful, but it had also been incredibly formal, to the point that Sirius had to make a conscious effort to avoid mocking it in his short reply, thanking Draco for telling him.

Still, it had further endeared his relative to him.

"Oh," Sirius broke the short silence that had risen between them, "I almost forgot, I finally made contact with Andromeda."

"Oh? How nice." Narcissa said, putting forward an air of total disinterest. Andromeda and she had cut ties in the most permanent manner many years ago and she could not allow herself to show even a hint of familial sentiment for her. That said, she was one of Narcissa's precious sisters and she could never bring herself not to care entirely.

"Yeah, well, nicer than the experience. Released from prison, nearly Kissed, rebuilding my life, none of that mattered. Did I blame her for tracking mud through the house when we were children? That was the issue at hand."

"That and a number of other grievances, I would imagine."

"Oh, don't get me started. Honestly, she hasn't changed one bit. Hasn't forgotten a thing, either. If anything, she hates me more than ever."

"Well, you always did bring that out of her."

"Her daughter's nice, though."

"Her daughter? Oh yes, I recall she had a child with her muggle."

"Yeah, that's the one. Nymphadora. Makes you appreciate your own name, I think. She hates it, insists everyone calls her Tonks, no matter what Andy said."

"Tonks?"

"Her surname. Andy's surname too, come to think of it."

"Of course. The muggle's name."

"You could call him by his name, you know. It's just the two of us here and I know you remember it. You might not have been invited to the wedding but you remember his name."

"I was invited. I chose not to attend." Narcissa did not mention Ted Tonks.

"Were you? Well, goes to show, then, doesn't it? Where was my invitation? Hates me. Absolutely hates me."

"While I have no doubt about the sincerity of her dislike of you, Sirius, I believe at the time you were serving your time in Azkaban."

"I still got letters. No invitation. Would have been nice to be invited."

"Enough, please. I don't know why you went there when you knew what it would be like."

"The same reason you came here today, I reckon. It is simply what family does. No matter how one feels about the other, you sit them down with a cup of tea and stale biscuit and you catch up on the latest comings and goings."

"I believe you might be right."

Narcissa poured them each a fresh cup and they settled back into their chairs.

"You've had these re-stuffed, haven't you?"

"Please let's not start talking about the furniture, Cissy. It's only one step from talking about the weather."

"What might you suggest then?"

"The boys?"

"That would be fine."

"Gaara's been doing very well in his new Arithmancy classes, he says. All theory based so it's to be expected."

"Yes, Draco mentioned he has discovered something of an affinity for the subject. A bright boy, definitely; they both are."

"How has Draco been finding this year's syllabus?"

"Gaara hasn't mentioned?"

"Gaara's letter writing leaves something to be desired. He doesn't tend to say a lot in his rare owls."

"Yes, I believe I recall the same. Well, Draco has been forced to work twice as hard with this silly tournament opening ceremony business they have him rehearsing for. Absolutely exhausted at the end of most weeks, he assures me."

"Well, blame the Minister if you feel that way. All of these restrictions and all that money."

"I am certainly not Cornelius' biggest fan recently, with how he's been treating Lucius. Reprehensible."

"Mark my word, he'll be out of office before long. Everyone knows this is just his latest scheme to avoid his inevitable ousting by someone more qualified."

"You may well be right."

"Is Lucius thinking of running this time?"

"I'm sure he hasn't decided one way or another yet. I for one believe it would be a waste of his talents. The Minister is a figurehead more than anything. Lucius keeps everything running."

"And he still has time for humility." Sirius said in false awe.

"Some men take pride in accomplishments."

"I won't be drawn into discussing Lucius' accomplishments. The bounds of good manners and conducting oneself as a gracious host will only cover so many sins."

"Then let us avoid that subject." She agreed.

"Molly Weasley has taken it upon herself recently to take Gaara under her wing. She's always taken such an interest in Harry and now she wants to familiarise herself with Gaara too."

"She doesn't have enough children as it is?" Narcissa said.

"She and Arthur are friends of mine and since Harry and Gaara are both my charges, she wanted to welcome Gaara a bit more."

"Into the fold?"

"Into the extended family, more like. A lovely woman. You and she would have more in common that you'd think."

"I somehow doubt that." Narcissa said, cringing at the memory of being forced to meet the woman at a Ministry function some years ago.

"Anyway, she's not looking to adopt him. She's just started sending him the odd letter now and then to remind him that there are people thinking of him. Not the best home life originally, so I think he could benefit from it."

"You know about his origins, then?"

"Yes. He's told me bits and pieces."

"Anything you could share?"

"Nothing worth saying. Everything else is between him and I. And maybe Draco. Who knows. He's a private person."

"Yes, so I gather. Not that it matters terribly."

"Just so long as he's not a muggleborn?"

"He's not, I am assured. That's enough for me."

"I'm glad you can concede even that much."

"Regardless, I think Mrs Weasley ought to tend more to her own litter of children and less to the children of others."

"I'll pass on your regards next time I see her." Sirius snorts into his cup of tea.

Sirius had also neglected to tell Narcissa of how Molly had really come to take such an active interest in Gaara alongside Harry. It had resulted from a meeting he had with the Weasley parents last week. He had confided in them that he was seeking to adopt the boys, since they were the only legitimate parental figures he happened to know and he wanted a little advice on how to cope with both parenting and how to approach telling the boys his intentions. Their advice on the former was more plentiful than in the latter.

He had also asked for their endorsement, if it came to it, with the Ministry, as upstanding members of society and personal friends. They had been all too happy to oblige, should it come to that.

They had been an absolute font of wisdom, some of it more applicable than other parts. When it came to Gaara, typical child rearing strategies seemed inadequate. Hearing this, Molly had laughed and said he was wrong. The twins sometimes made her doubt herself too but one simply had to ignore the eccentricities of children and help them to prepare for the world. Except, and he had not wanted to tell them this, it seemed Gaara was already plenty worldly.

The time for afternoon tea soon drew to a close and Narcissa took her leave to process the full wealth of information her cousin had shared with her. In the circles she tended to socialise, so little was shared in conversations twice the length of this, Narcissa was almost overwhelmed by her cousin's plentiful disclosures.

Brash and uncouth, he truly hadn't changed, but (not that she would dream of confessing this) Sirius presented a refreshing change of pace to chat with.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara looked down at the two letters that had been deposited in front of him with today's morning post and turned to his breakfast companion, "Your mother has sent me another letter."

Draco set down his own letter and verified that his mother's handwriting was indeed across the front of one of Gaara's envelopes. "You're right." He wondered where this sudden concern for Gaara had come from and whether it had anything to do with the not altogether dissimilar interest the Weasley mother had taken in Gaara a few days before. His mother had all but refused to explain when Draco asked her in one of his previous letters.

He also wondered why the care package Gaara had received from his mother had been almost as large as Draco's own two days ago.

Gaara stared at the pair of letters and then slipped them into his pocket to read later, and tried to puzzle out why two women who were unrelated to him were taking such an interest in him, since no reason had been apparent in their previous communications.

Since Draco did not seem to know, the only other option for getting answers would have been through one of the Weasley children at the school. Considering the female one had slapped him in the face, the youngest boy clearly hated him, and the twins were obsessed with both Sirius and playing practical jokes… he would just have to leave it a mystery.

As it was the weekend, Gaara took the morning to run around the forest, or did whatever it was that he did in there, while Draco was forced to attend an extra meeting for the upcoming opening ceremony. It was only supposed to be a costume fitting this morning but that had swiftly turned into a full practice that run on for another two and a half hours until he was finally released.

Needless to say, it left him in a foul mood.

Storming into their room, Draco looked around for anything with which he might find fault so he would have an outlet for this impotent sense of indignation and rage. The best he could manage was decrying their freshly laundered clothes being left on their beds. The house elves came and collected all of their dirty clothes from each of their rooms, cleaned them, dried them and folded them, and then they deposited them on their beds instead putting them away.

Such a small extra step, which might have been left incomplete to remind even the Slytherins of some measure of personal responsibility, but Draco just found himself angered by the presumption.

Knowing that Gaara would quite possibly just dump his onto the floor when he returned rather than putting it away, it was left to Draco to play the part of servant and ensure an orderly living space. If Gaara were here, he would receive a piece of Draco's mind.

It was quick work for the most part, but when he came upon Gaara's expanding bag sat in his sock drawer, he shook his head and tried to reconcile Gaara's occasional capriciousness with his military utilitarianism. He preferred his rule-breaking gourd to the bag and so he cast the bag aside, for no reason but personal preference. In times like these, it helped Draco to de-stress by imagining Gaara as a warrior in some war somewhere, deciding something the way he did and charging ahead without regard to the consequences of his actions while everyone else fought to catch up. In short, it was fun to imagine his friend being an idiot as he sometimes acted.

He shoved Gaara's newly cleaned socks inside the bag and dropped it back into the otherwise empty drawer and forgot about it.

He had a couple hours at least until Gaara returned so he took the time to sneak a nap past his drill-sergeant-esque roommate.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

During the week, after another fascinating lesson on the basics of artithmantic formulae, Hermione Granger plucked up the courage to talk to Gaara again. She had not approached him nor had they otherwise talked since her birthday last month and she decided it was time she rectified that, since she obviously couldn't leave it to him to solve this tension. And if she left it to one of the boys, soon enough Gryffindor would have formally declared war on Slytherin (something that, her memory supplied, had not happened since the sixteenth century.)

She was admittedly a little skittish in her approach, but firmed her resolve that his rage episode had been a one-time incident and he was in fact harmless.

"How are you today, Gaara?" She had spent thirty minutes yesterday, in preparing for this encounter, deciding how she would best open a dialogue between them again.

"I am well." Gaara said. He avoided returning the question, hoping she might resume avoiding him.

"I'm glad to hear that. Professor Vector seemed awfully interested in you today. I noticed she took you aside earlier. There wasn't any trouble, I hope."

Gaara knew he could not rid himself of her without being unconscionably rude (a level he tried to stay above) so he humoured her probing question and answered, "She wanted to discuss a private matter with me. She gave me some help in a personal research project I was considering a while ago. She wanted a little more information about it."

"Oh, that sounds interesting. What were you trying to find out about?"

Gaara told her the same thing he had told Vector, "It was nothing of consequence, ultimately. A dead end."

Hermione wanted to know more but had gotten into hot water with Gaara before, sticking her nose too deeply into matters that did not directly concern her. He did not seem against her re-establishing friendly relations so she did not want to offend him too early on.

"I hope she was not too demanding. I've noticed she has been a bit more forthright with her teaching as of late. Personal issues, perhaps."

Gaara had no idea what she was talking about and did not particularly care. The woman had seemed fine to him.

The silence went on and Hermione used this to switch subjects, "I've been doing my own personal research project as well, as it happens." She said, shuffling the books in her arms to show him the title of one, The Triwizard Tournament: A History of Brutality.

"Interesting." He admitted.

"Isn't it?" Her eyes practically shined. "I've been looking into all sorts of things surrounding the tournament since they announced it at the start of term. There are only a few weeks until it starts properly so I've been learning all I can about the old tournaments and why they were stopped." Seeing that Gaara's eyes had not glazed over like Ron and Harry's had, she rattled off a few quick facts about the tournaments of old and, seeing a kindred spirit, began to recite her recent bibliography so he might continue to learn around the subject as she had.

He appeared to appreciate this as he actually looked in her direction as she talked for a change. She would have liked to continue this conversation but all too soon they had reached the Great Hall and when her eyes naturally drifted to where Harry and Ron would be sitting, they were already halfway to their feet, glaring harshly at Gaara, ready to come to her rescue from the murderous psychopath.

Them not knowing about the thawing relations with Gaara would inevitably lead to some sort of public confrontation that she was eager to avoid but by the time she turned to warn Gaara, he was already on his way to his seat at the Slytherin table. He always did that.

Hermione marched forward to intercept Harry and Ron before they might do something silly like follow the redhead to the Slytherin table, enemy territory, and explained that he had been perfectly pleasant on their walk from Arithmancy.

"So he's not an absolute arse for five minutes and you're ready to forgive him for what he said on your birthday?" Ron asked.

"I hate to say it, Herm, but Ron's right, Gaara's too dangerous to be around. At least on your own."

"What? Is that because I'm a girl?!" She asked, eyebrow raised.

Harry sensed danger and trod carefully, "No, not because you're a girl or anything, just because he threatened to kill us and he's got that sand of his, and…"

"Whatever happened on the full moon was clearly a misunderstanding of some sort. He's been pleasant enough since then, quiet even. Let's not go back to suspecting him of every crime because he's a little different."

"A little different?" Ron asked.

"I don't think you can call what he said a misunderstanding." Harry added.

"He's not said anything like that since. He was definitely going through something that night. You have to admit, he's not normally like that. Maybe he was hexed to act like that."

"You think someone made him threaten to kill us?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. Possibly." She said.

"But who would?" Ron asked.

"It wasn't that important, was it? Malfoy used to say things like that all the time." She argued.

"I don't see you chatting to him." Ron said.

"It's not just what he said, Herm, it's the way he said it." Harry said. Draco at least used to conceal his threats or make them indirect.

"And coming from someone like Gaara, you sort of believe it, don't you?" Ron said, never quite believing a bully like Draco Malfoy could work up the nerve to follow through on any of his darker threats.

"I think you're both overreacting." She decided.

"I hope you're right." Harry said, glancing over to the Slytherin table but unable to see past the new high-backed chairs.

"Well, what did Sirius say when you told him?" Hermione asked.

"He was concerned and asked all about it, but in the end he told me to try not upsetting him and Sirius was going to talk to him about it."

"And did he?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. Didn't say much about it but asked me to forget it happened."

"He wants you to forget about it?" Ron couldn't believe Sirius, who had seemed like a nice man, would be so oblivious when it came to Gaara.

"I don't think I could forget about it but maybe we should let it go. Sirius knows stuff about Gaara that we don't and he didn't seem to be worried."

"So, in the end you agree with exactly what I've been saying?" Hermione said, exasperated by her friends.

"I still don't see why he won't tell you, at least." Ron muttered.

"We'll find out eventually." Hermione was tired of this conversation. What had begun for her as an intriguing mystery had become an uncomfortable obsession with another person's private life. It had taken her longer than she was happy to admit to come to the conclusion that Gaara had tried pointing them towards at the start of their acquaintance, that his private business was not their right to know.

She started her lunch and tried to steer the conversation onto new territory, namely the boy's lapsed Potions homework. With how Snape had been acting since the article came out, it behoved her to keep atop her friends and their habitual laziness.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara looked across the heaving table to make sure Luna was absorbed in her own book so he could check a chapter he did not want anybody seeing him check. He had already gone through most of the Library's books which concerned anything tangentially linked to demons but he was desperate for answers (again) so he was re-reading them to make sure he missed nothing. Sadly, the day he had allotted to checking out the magical creature books had been invaded by Luna, who had decided he needed company in the Library.

Granted, nobody in Hogwarts currently knew as much about real or mythicised descriptions of tanuki better than Luna Lovegood, so she was a valuable resource for the unconcealed part of that particular project. So, while she continued her doctoral-level research into the magical history of tanuki in Japan and East Asia, Gaara tried to keep her attention away from the subject of demons.

She had repeatedly mentioned lately that she was considering learning how to transform, as Draco had but the reason she had not yet started was the opposite of Draco's. Luna wanted to be sure she would turn into a tanuki, or something equally 'cute', if she was to devote the time to becoming an animagus. Gaara had steadfastly avoiding commenting on any of it.

Apart from wasting his time rechecking the magical school books for references of beings that, as far as he had been able to ascertain, did not exist in this world, he was also following up on the books Granger had recommended for him regarding the Triwizard Tournament. He had pretended, when Luna asked about those books, that his interest was simple curiosity in an interesting and historical event.

What he was reading was not… encouraging.

None of what was described was entirely beyond his capabilities, by his estimation, but it was more of a challenge than he had originally anticipated, considering it was supposed to be for civilian children.

Along with scoping out the range of previous tasks and the structure of the old tournaments, Gaara was also preparing for the backlash he was sure to endure from his friends. Since everybody he was on friendly terms with had thought to warn him against entering into the tournament, it was fair to say that they were worried about the possibility. While insulting that they thought he was stupid enough to enter of his own volition, since it was ultimately true, Gaara tried to forgive them their lack of faith in his better judgement.

The useless mythical creature books failed to turn up any new information, as he feared, so he buried them under the Triwizard Tournament reference materials and pulled open a stray Transfiguration book (which Luna had thumbed through earlier in her musings over animagi) to break up his serious research with a little homework. If nothing else, this simple foot-long scroll on Transfiguration theory would help distract him from the impending fallout.

Meanwhile, Draco was spending his time with his so-called 'moderate' friends. The term, he had always maintained, was something of a misnomer since none of them were cowards or moderate in any opinion they held, barring their scepticism of absolute blood purity. Slytherins were Slytherins, after all, and they were all venomous in one way or another.

He was enjoying a late lunch with Roy Norbel, Miles Bletchley, and Tracey Davis. A mixed group, to be sure, and one he would never have dreamed of associating with before last year, except, perhaps, for Bletchley who was also on the House Quidditch team. However, any fraternising with such a teammate, who was known to be from a less than fanatical family, would have been restricted to Quidditch and nothing more. Back then, Draco reflected, he probably would not have wanted to spend time with the overly meek Slytherin, anyway.

As most often happened when any group of Slytherins gathered, these four ended up gossiping endlessly about the various illicit romantic entanglements of their housemates and who the likely Hogwarts Champion would be. Most votes in the group, predictably, went to fellow Slytherins in the upper years. Norbel was not the only one to posit that Gaara would be a strong contender, with how powerful and respected he was, but Draco quashed that notion swiftly. Gaara would not be entering, even if he most certainly would win, Draco asserted.

Tracey Davis suggested a couple upper years from other Houses as contenders, and Norbel filled out the ranks with Quidditch players who should also be considered. Since Draco was the only one present who was being forced to participate in the ludicrous opening ceremony, his opinion of the entire affair was decidedly sour and he was happy when the subject moved back onto more comfortable territory, namely Quidditch.

"Oh, mind what you say, it looks like we've got a little eavesdropper." Davis said, looking out of the corner of her eye.

"Who?" Bletchley asked, avoiding looking over.

"Don't recognise the face. Looks like a firstie, our House."

"And they don't know better than to listen in on conversations yet?" Norbel said.

"Is it a girl?" Draco asked, hand running back through his hair.

"Yes." Davis said.

"Ignore her. It's just the Lavado girl. Been following me for weeks."

"That's Lavado?" Davis asked, almost glancing over. "I heard people talking about her the other day."

"And I bet nobody noticed you 'hearing' them, did they?" Draco smirked.

"So you're the newest boy to entrance the little…" Davis considered an appropriate insult.

"Let's stick with 'social climber' and not sully ourselves by discussing her further." Draco said shortly, tired of the first year's discomfiting antics.

Back in the Library, as Gaara was finishing his thoughts for the structure of his Transfiguration essay, their table was approached by some unwelcome visitors. Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and Millicent Bulstrode all sauntered up looking out of place since most of them tended to avoid the library like the plague. Gaara had watched them enter the Library, as he watched everyone who walked into the room, and had been immediately suspicious.

The most influential and staunch of the purists in his year group minus Crabbe & Goyle, Gaara noted, were all Draco's old friends who had distanced themselves from him as soon as he stopped with the senseless bullying and racism. As such, they were not fans of Gaara's, who had turned Draco on his own kind, and Gaara was not a fan of theirs, for reasons beyond number.

"What do you want?" He asked as soon as they were all upon him, fanning out and trying to surround him, presumably to instil some sort of fear in him.

"Get lost, Loony." Bulstrode demanded, standing behind the significantly smaller girl's chair with her arms crossed.

Luna looked to him, a little intimidated but not unused to bullies such as these, and awaited his reaction. A sign of trust, Gaara decided.

"Luna, please excuse us." Gaara asked, turning to her. He did not have the same issue she did with turning his back on these civilians. That said, with the nature of Slytherins, it was best, even for a trained warrior, not to turn one's backs on them for too long.

Luna did not seem happy to be leaving Gaara alone, surrounded by notorious bullies, but she had faith in his abilities and knew, realistically, that there was nothing they could do to hurt him. She walked to the far end of the Library and tried to distract herself with her surroundings, though that was easier said than done when the far end happened to house the books on magical law and magical economics, that is, economics within the magical world, rather than anything more fantastical or engaging. She and a number of other curious Ravenclaws had learned this lesson the boring way.

Gaara was glad Luna had been so agreeable and that she had headed in a direction where there weren't any teachers. These people clearly had something to say to him and, while it was unlikely to be of much interest to him, he wanted to know what it was. It would be needlessly disruptive for Luna to encounter a teacher and warn them of Gaara's harassment.

He risked a covert glance to his pile of books, to confirm that none of the more inflammatory titles were on top of the piles, anything concerning specific beasts (i.e. tanuki) or demons. Luckily not, and these riffraff were unlikely to be staying long enough to notice any of the books buried in the piles.

"What do you want?" Gaara repeated now that they were alone.

The group of four formed a semi-circle around Gaara so he rose to stand, not willing to be intimidated. It was hard to make this point of defiance when even the shortest amongst them was six inches taller than him.

"We've been talking and it's long past time you were brought into the fold properly." Zabini said.

"The fold." Gaara was already getting bored with this conversation.

"Yes. Even if you don't have a family name, at all, and you've been disrespectful to your betters before, it's been decided that you should be told how things work, since Malfoy hasn't." Parkinson added.

"My betters." Gaara found himself repeating whatever they said back to them like some simpleton, but it was honestly rather difficult to find any new words when they spoke like this to him. It had happened a few times in his own world but his siblings or another handler were almost always there to get the condescending idiot away from the psychotic Jinchūriki. It was surely a sign of his growth, Gaara commended himself, that these four were still alive and even conscious. By the time he found his way back home, if he ever did, he could be an accomplished diplomat.

"Look, we're not trying to scare you, but you obviously know how to make yourself useful, and if the Malfoys have been too busy cavorting with blood-traitors, halfbloods and mudbloods to tell you the danger you're in on the outside, then we will do it instead. The Dark Lord will return someday and when he does, he will take over not only the wizarding world but the muggle one too. Those on the inside will be rewarded and those on the outside will…" Zabini trailed off.

"They'll die painfully." Bulstrode finally piped up, never one for finesse.

Gaara realised this was happening not just because of his display of power at the end of last year but because he was no longer scary enough to keep the annoyances at bay. What a miserable fate.

"You wish for Voldemort to kill all muggle-borns and sympathisers." Gaara said, wanting to get to the heart of the matter and get these teenagers to admit their genocidal dreams.

"You shouldn't say his name." Zabini warned, though it didn't seem to be his own wrath he was warning Gaara of.

"You would see your schoolmates killed because they were born in different cultures." While a lot of what went on in Hogwarts seemed entirely trivial to Gaara, the concept of two groups of people sharing one space despite grave differences in their ideologies and harbouring hostilities between them was definitely a more worrying conceptualisation of the issue. Like if Iwa and Konoha sent their Genin to the same Academy.

Or if Suna sent their Genin to a Chunin exam in an enemy village…

War was inevitable in some situations, it seemed. And here he was chatting with the vanguard.

The true-born Slytherins shared a look and clamped down on any further overtly xenophobic remarks, fearing some sort of trap from their housemate.

"Tell me this: would you let your friendship with Malfoy drag you down?" Zabini said.

"Yes." Gaara said without hesitation.

"You should have been sorted into Hufflepuff." Bulstrode huffed.

"Was probably supposed to be until he hexed the Sorting Hat." Daphne Greengrass finally spoke up, just as the others seemed to have finished.

Gaara said nothing further and watched them begin to disperse. He was about to resume his seat and ignore their slow exit when Zabini knocked his books off the table in a casual display of machismo. This small, subtle form of bullying would be ignored by most, through high-mindedness or cowardice, but Gaara could not abide by such blatant exhibitions of disrespect to him and the books.

Gaara stepped forward quickly, took a hold of Zabini's arm and then pushed him against the nearest bookshelf so fast that none of his compatriots had time to draw their wands.

"That insult would have earned you death, once upon a time." Gaara said, staring directly into Zabini's suitably intimidated eyes.

Gaara released his arm and totally ignored the wands, all three of them, pointed at the back of his head, and walked around the stacks to go and find Luna. It also helped that hiding amongst the books kept him out of Madam Pince's firing line, her having witnessed both spilling of the books onto the floor and standoff that followed. Gaara could hear her giving the other Slytherins a loud scolding and he was happy to avoid it.

Doubtless, by the time he resurfaced from the bookshelves, Pince would have moved on to another infraction. She ran the Library like a military encampment and he respected her for it. If only she could be relied upon to find a book every now and then, she would be worth her weight in galleons.

By the time Gaara and Luna emerged from their discussion of the surprisingly interesting introduction of a magical forbearer to the muggle middle classes almost a century before their rise in the non-magical economy, the Slytherins had slithered away and Pince had cleared their table. They decided to call it a day since she would take at least a few hours to re-shelve all of the books they had on their table and she greatly resented students picking books off of her trolley.

Draco and his friends had to endure a similar confrontation, as Crabbe and Goyle, who had begged off from the contingent sent to talk to Gaara (for reasons they would not elaborate on even now) brazenly walked up to them in the Great Hall, in sight of many professors and students.

Draco was ready to shoot off a harsh dismissal of his onetime cronies but they beat him to the punch, with Crabbe's opening salvo, "Don't know why you're still sat here."

"This is the Slytherin table." Draco said, honestly unsure whether Vincent had forgotten this salient fact.

"You're not a proper Slytherin anymore. Your family's a disgrace." Goyle continued.

"When the Dark Lord returns, the Malfoy's will be lucky to be doing what the Crabbes tell them to." Crabbe said.

"And the Goyles." Goyle added.

Draco looked between the imposing figures stood above him and rose to his feet; they might talk down to him but he would not let the likes of these two look down their noses at him. "As if a Malfoy would ever serve either of your families. We'd sooner bow down to the Weasleys. At least their family can be traced back more than a handful of generations."

"We'll see, Malfoy. The Dark Lord doesn't take kindly to blood traitors and everyone knows where you stand. And your father might as well be a traitor for all the use he is these days." Crabbe said.

"Why does he even bother showing up to the Ministry anymore?" Goyle said.

"At least he does show up to work. What happened to your fathers, did they finally realise that their absence makes no difference to the running of the Ministry?"

"Wouldn't you like to know-" Goyle said before he was elbowed in the ribs but Crabbe, receiving a shush to remind him of some secret.

"You know, I really wouldn't. The comings and goings of your slovenly and common fathers, both of them, can stay a complete mystery to me and the rest of the world. We would all thank you to keep them to yourselves." Draco smirked, back to his old self.

"I really don't think you understand your new place, Malfoy." Crabbed said, stepping towards Draco in a way he remembered ordering the boy to two years ago, to scare whoever had offended him that day. Strange to be on the receiving end now.

Where there was one, there was always the other, so Goyle backed his partner up and they both towered over Draco. Draco was confident he could beat either of them in a duel but both of them would be too much for him to handle, and in a vulgar contest of physical strength there was no comparison to be made. He was just about to ready himself for a bloody nose when the pair backed off a few inches, and then a little further, looking less confident of their ability to crush Draco's bones for some reason.

With their gazes directed behind him, even knowing the peril of looking away from them, Draco glanced behind himself quickly and saw that his friends were unaccountably backing him up. Roy, Tracey, and Miles were all stood behind him, with Miles' wand also drawn and ready.

As Goyle and Crabbe prepared some snappy comment with which to leave under, Draco beat them to it, "Just go. Act like your fathers and disappear. Make everyone happy." He then turned his back on them, with his friends to keep an eye on the pair, and hoped they weren't still stupid enough to start a fight they would surely lose through numbers just to hurt Draco. Frankly, even a sucker punch to the back of the head might be worth the profound insult he was paying them.

He tried to look casual until his friends and comrades relaxed but he would have settled for not sweating through his shirt. When everyone looked to each other, Draco risked a look over his shoulder and found the pair nowhere to be seen. He had won this encounter but he would need to be careful from that point on not to be caught alone.

As they all sat back down and tried to avoid the subject of that awkward encounter and continue their day. After another half hour, they all parted ways, none feeling particularly like chatting after that near miss.

More than anything else, Draco was now concerned with the feeling that the lauded Slytherin unity, that force which united their House against the other three who sought to undermine it, would soon disappear and they would descend into infighting and chaos. It would be each Slytherin for themselves and everyone would lose out. The balance of the school would be lost and the entire country might suffer, not to mention with the return of the Dark Lord the rest of the world would be dragged into the nightmare.

Draco rubbed his aching head and decided to go and take an afternoon nap. Or try at least. It was only a feeling, after all. Everything would probably be fine.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

October went quickly and too soon the full moon was upon Gaara once again. Despite Luna's frequent reminders of her original offer to watch over him when he elected to transform this month (since it was her "turn"), Gaara intended to abstain again and remain human.

The risks were considerable but he had made arrangement that should limit them as much as possible. He and Draco had located a cell in the Dungeons that was magically reinforced even after centuries of disuse, and could be locked from the outside, leaving Gaara trapped inside. Draco would keep his sand away from him and Gaara could spend the night working out some of his pent up anger without causing anybody any harm.

Last month, his higher skills including his control of the sand had seemed… irrelevant. His mind was so occupied with its rage and the prospect of destruction, the means by which this could most readily be enacted escaped him. No jutsu, no sand, no lock picking, nothing. Just screaming and threats.

Draco had not been happy with this plan, unable to understand why the pragmatist of the pair was taking such a risk instead of safely transforming into a tanuki and waiting out the night in the comfort of their room.

Gaara had tried to explain it without sounding childish, refusing to change because he didn't want to, but tautologies aside, there was another reason for his decision. These transformations were strange. Well, according to Draco, everything about Gaara was strange and Gaara would say the same about this world, but these transformations and mental breakdowns were something unaccounted for in either of their two worlds. They were anomalous and they were somehow, perhaps coincidentally, perhaps meaningfully, linked to the 'Kurai Sekai' that brought him here.

From the moment Gaara told him about this plan up until the moment he slammed the heavy iron cell door shut, Draco's nerves soured more and more. Whether or not Gaara had a decent reason for this gamble, Draco was so worried it would end in… well, he did not pretend to know what could happen when it came to Gaara's unique lunar changes but it would probably be bad. He had sought Luna's advice but she had been as unhelpful as he'd expected, simply agreeing with him that Gaara's should transform instead of losing his mind.

When the evening drew in and they had both made their excuses to leave dinner early, they travelled down into the darkest recesses of the Dungeons, well past the Slytherin dorms. The cell Gaara had chosen was nearly as big as their bedroom, and was totally dark, with no windows to let even the moonlight filter through the lake water. Inside, the pitch dark stones were covered in grime older than more than a few modern countries and rusted chains still hung from the ceiling. The door was thick and made of solid iron, strong enough to withstand a fair amount of magic, let alone Gaara's relatively meagre physical strength.

Draco had offered to set up the cell with a bed and some water, maybe a few books, but Gaara doubted he would have much use for those things. Still, Draco insisted on leaving him a thick woollen blanket since the cell was a cold nightmare. Gaara walked into the cell with grim determination, ready to discover what his affliction would have for him next and glared when Draco shot a bright light into the top of the cell, to illuminate the horrors to come.

Draco did not ask for any final confirmation, instead he took one last look at Gaara's back and pulled as hard as he could on the stubborn, heavy door. It took an embarrassingly long few moments before the thing budged, and then he dragged it shut and pulled out his wand to lock the bolt and then to cast an extra sticking charm. Finally, as Gaara had instructed him, he cast a silencing spell around the area so nobody (read: Snape) would hear any commotion and come investigating. Otherwise, no one ever came this far into the depths of the castle, so they could be guaranteed of privacy for the night.

'They' because despite Gaara's further instructions, Draco was not going to leave Gaara alone. Not because Gaara would be discovered, because he wouldn't, and not because Draco was looking forward to listening in on Gaara's suffering, because he wasn't; Draco would stay despite his inability to help because he couldn't bring himself to leave, simple as that. The thought of lying awake in their room, since sleep would definitely elude him, and waiting minute by minute for the sun to rise was too much to bear.

It came without warning, the first trial of the night, when Gaara spoke up from inside the cell, his voice muffled but discernible in the dead silence, "Draco, are you still there?"

Draco sighed with a smile; of course, Gaara would assume and predict Draco's actions. "Yes, I'm still here."

"It's not happening, you can let me out."

Draco already had his wand drawn ready to bring down the wards when he hesitated. It was a momentary doubt, that perhaps he should confirm that Gaara was in his right mind before swinging open the door. He dismissed this as soon as it came, since Gaara was not the sort of person to trick him like that.

"Open the door now, Draco."

Draco faltered. "Uhhh…"

"Open the door or I will murder you." Gaara said in the same deceptively calm voice.

Draco moved a step back from the cell door.

"Now, or I will break the door down and kill everyone in this castle."

Draco wanted to try and calm him down but his throat suddenly seemed so dry, his tongue turned to lead in his mouth. He was afraid; not of his friend trapped in the prison cell but of the change in his friend's mind.

He heard thuds coming from the door but they were almost inaudible behind the punctuated stream of threats coming from Gaara's mouth. These words worsened as they went on, growing in scale and severity until Gaara was not only threatening to kill every man, woman and child in the school, but went on to claim that he would destroy Britain and every person in it, magical or muggle. Whether this was hyperbole, hubris, or a further sign of his insanity, Draco did not know, but it was concerning, in retrospect especially, that these claims were made during Gaara's more lucid period.

After he stopped threatening Draco to open the door, he went on to alternating between maniacal laughter and yelling, including copious more undirected death threats and promises of destruction and bloodshed. The dull thuds against the door came and went until words left Gaara entirely and he devolved into animalistic sounds and screams that would haunt Draco for years to come.

When the noise moved away from the door, with his wand drawn, Draco risked opening the barred, eye-level hatch to see what was happening in there, to make sure Gaara was okay. He was lucky to avoid wetting himself when, from the shadows, Gaara ran right at the door, frothing at the mouth and face covered in blood. Draco slammed the hatch shut and heard yet another impact against the inside of the solid door.

The hours went on and no matter how much Gaara raved and shouted and laughed, nor how much he beat against and scratched at the walls and door, he did not tire or stop.

When morning finally came, Draco was curled up at the edge of the silencing ward, as far from the door as he could stray without sparing himself the horrid noises from within, clutching his knees to his chest and shaking, his tears having run dry sometime around two in the morning.

The first sign that it was over was the silence that Draco had been praying for since it began. Unwilling to take the chance, he cast the tempus spell and confirmed the sun had risen out of sight and that it was safe to unlock the door. Taking down the wards and unlocking the bolt, he steeled himself for what he expected to see, but that failed to adequately prepare him. When the cell door swung inward, Draco gasped at the state he found his friend in.

Gaara had broken his fingers and knuckles, lost nails, was drenched in what could only be his own blood from scratches and scrapes, and despite being conscious, he seemed unable to stand or speak as Draco approached. Gaara's foggy eyes tracked him as he walked in but he did not move or try to react in any way.

Looking down at his friend, Draco couldn't help but 'tsk' and say, "This because you didn't want to transform. Idiot."

Gaara continued looking up at him but did not, perhaps could not, move to answer. Draco would have liked to continue staring, to understand what had gone through Gaara's mind to choose this, but the horror of the sight was overwhelming and he needed to get Gaara to Madam Pomfrey. He had no idea how he was going to explain this away.

When he tried pulling Gaara upright, he saw how the redhead couldn't put any weight on one of his feet and could hear a wheezing sound with every painful breath Gaara inhaled. Draco's worry intensified when he realised the damage Gaara had dealt onto himself was so severe he couldn't even hobble to the Hospital Wing.

Draco set him back down, stepped back, and levitated the bruised and battered boy into the air. It was still early enough that the pair might be able to make it to the medical wing before they had to answer any awkward questions. Gaara's eyes slid closed when his weightlessness eased some of the pain so Draco carefully carried Gaara, shutting the cell door behind them so no one would think to investigate it and find the gore inside.

The castle was always eerily quiet at this time in the morning so Draco's ears were tuned in to his surroundings, waiting to hear the tapping of a professor's patrolling shoes, but all he heard was the rhythmic sounds coming from Gaara. The Hospital Wing doors were shut so Draco pounded on them as hard as he could, hastening as much as possible Madam Pomfrey's answering.

"What's all this ruckus, so early in the morning?!" She exclaimed as she opened the door, only to gasp much like Draco had when she saw what looked to her like signs of torture on Gaara. "Oh my goodness! What happened?" She asked, ushering Draco in.

"It was a spell backfire." He said, having thought up the most believable excuse on his way up the castle.

Pomfrey spared him but a glance and ignored the blatant lie in favour of treating the worst wounds first. Where normally she would be able to fix his broken bones in seconds, including the broken rib that was hampering his breathing, Gaara's unique resistance to magical healing prevented everything but emergency first aid. Poppy had to cast her mind back to her training all those years ago to recall the methods to safely encourage mending in bones when the patient is magically resistant or sensitive.

Knowing about Gaara's anomalous physiology, better than most, Draco hovered over the slow process, circling around the bed as unobtrusively as he was able. It all seemed rather barbaric, this muggle medicine. Instead of a potion and a waved wand, she was wrapping his wounds and setting his bones.

"Mister Malfoy, you can go back to your dormitory now." She said as she finished dressing all of the skin abrasions and cleaning the blood and dirt away.

"No, thank you." He said obtusely.

Poppy was used to shooing away the friends of patients while she worked, but Professor Snape would have to be notified so he might as well find both boys here instead of chasing one down. She would let Severus interrogate the little Malfoy; doubtless, he would be able to get to the truth.

After the emergency work was done and Gaara had resurfaced to some semblance of consciousness, she forced a couple potions down his gullet. One for the pain and one that would re-grow his missing fingernails in a few days. The last was more of a cosmetic potion but handy in rare circumstances like these, and better still, should still work on Gaara despite his resistance.

Gaara would be staying at least the next few days for recuperation and observation, but that time would be extended if Severus did not like the reason for the child's injuries.

Gaara had drifted off again after the potions had alleviated the pain and Poppy settled back to look him over. With the blood and unidentified grime cleared off and the worst of the injuries covered, he looked remarkably peaceful. While she had no desire to pry the answers out of either boy, she would be getting them out of Severus later. She had no idea what the boys had been up to but she sincerely doubted either had been practicing a spell that could have done all of this damage.

She called for Severus with a brief explanation of what she knew and he came promptly, which surprised her, knowing how he acted towards Gaara. Surely it wasn't concern.

"What happened, mister Malfoy?" He asked as soon as he came to a halt, having walked right into the Hospital Wing without pause or hesitation.

"… It was a magical accident, sir. We were practicing a new spell Gaara read about and it backfired and hurt him."

Snape's expression was contemptuous, but only so much so as it always was when dealing with students outside of his working hours, while he dealt with Draco, but it slipped into open hostility when his gaze drifted to Gaara's prone form for the first time.

"And I don't suppose you remember any specifics of this spell? Perhaps the title of the book it was from?" Snape asked, his eyes hard and unforgiving as they continued to stare at Gaara while still addressing Draco to his side.

"I'm afraid not, sir. It was something Gaara found out about. But I insisted that we try it."

"Of course." Snape said, closing his eyes for a moment and then pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Is this spell likely to misfire again in the near future?" Snape asked, turning away from Gaara to address Draco properly once more.

"No, sir, I don't think so."

"Then I will dock him fifty House Points for when he wakes up, for his reckless stupidity, and award you fifty for keeping him alive." Snape said, adding, "Perhaps I should deduct from you, too, for forcing us to endure his presence further…"

"Pardon, sir?" Draco asked, obliged to question but sure he did not want to know what Snape was mumbling where Gaara was concerned.

"Nothing. Go and prepare for the day."

"Actually, I wanted to stay here for a while-"

"Unless you have recently obtained your healer's license, I don't see any reason for you to wait around the Hospital Wing instead of attending your lessons. There are infinitely better uses for your time than playing nursemaid for your burdensome roommate. For instance, you have several long essays due over the coming week including one from myself."

Draco looked up at his Head of House but knew further arguments would be futile. Not to mention that he was too tired to be combating Professor Snape after enduring such a traumatic night. Right now, he wanted to take an hour-long hot shower and then curl up in bed to not sleep for a few hours, but instead he had less than an hour to ready himself for breakfast and then he had a full day ahead of him, with the memory of last night haunting him and the compounded weariness from staying up all night weighing him down.

And all through that, he had worrying over his unconscious friend to look forward to.

He remembered little of what transpired during the first half of the day and would need to find a generous classmate to share their notes with him, so tired was he. Honestly, he was struggling to keep his eyes open during Care of Magical Creatures, which was definitely a sign of his flagging energy since most would have described the lesson as anything but boring.

Any lesson where Professor Hagrid had to warn the students for fear of them losing digits could hardly be termed 'dull'.

At lunch he did not even stop by the Great Hall, his hunger not for food but to see his dear friend and make sure he was okay. Frankly, even though he had seen Madam Pomfrey heal almost all of the damage earlier, and knowing that any non-fatal damage could easily be remedied under her careful ministrations, Draco was finding it difficult to cope with the illogical feeling that Gaara was still in imminent danger.

In there, instead of the bloodied, broken mess he had feared, he found Gaara sitting cross-legged on the bed like today was any other day and he was in their bedroom rather than the medical wing. Granted those other times did not typically see Gaara's left foot and both hands wrapped in heavy bandages, but otherwise it looked sort of normal.

Draco had seen Gaara meditate like this a hundred times and was glad to see his eyes opening of their own accord, never liking to wake him from his contemplations. Seldom able to wake him from his meditation.

Draco shuffled over to the bed, Gaara's eyes following him blankly, and he took a seat, unsure of what to say since the great many expletives he had been planning to shout had flown out of his head the moment he saw Gaara awake and looking okay.

"How are you feeling?" Was the best Draco could manage.

"I'm fine." Gaara said, which Draco found hard to believe considering the terrible damage that Gaara had apparently dealt to his own body last night.

"Has someone told Mr Black?"

"Presumably." Gaara said.

"Is sitting like that not terribly uncomfortable?" Draco gestured to Gaara's broken foot which was still folded under him.

"Yes." Gaara admitted this and carefully shifted his feet out from under him so he could lie back in the bed.

"Why were you meditating now, anyway? Wouldn't sleep be better for you, for healing?"

"I was attempting to find answers from within myself." Gaara told him, comfortable with the half-truth he was sharing.

"And?" Draco prompted, ignorant of the deeper meaning of Gaara's statement.

"Nothing helpful. Though it occurs to me that these are getting worse each month." This stirred Gaara more than he let on. Only he knew the damage he might cause should Shukaku's chakra join the intense rage and unleash an unstoppable weapon on the world.

"I don't know how that could have gone any worse." Draco said.

"Perhaps you're right." Gaara conceded, sparking suspicion in Draco's mind. Injured or not, Gaara was never that quick to admit fault, even if it had been a monumentally stupid undertaking.

Gaara's mind was elsewhere as he conversed with Draco, a common problem. Shukaku had been less than unhelpful, only telling him in a number of off-putting ways that this 'tantrum' had been the funniest one yet and the only way it could be improved would be if he let Shukaku out to play. That tanuki demon was a broken record half the time but Gaara was sure if he visited a few more times, he would learn something from the ancient creature.

"Send a letter for me. I will write it this afternoon." Gaara said.

"Okay, but how will you write it?" Draco nodded to the bandages around both of Gaara's hands.

Gaara looked to them and marvelled at the analgesic potions available that helped him to forget the mangled state his hands had been in upon arrival. The small bones would heal in less than a week, most likely, but until then he would indeed face a few additional challenges.

"I can take dictation." Draco suggested, rooting around in his robes for his quill, ink, and a scrap of parchment to draft the letter on.

Gaara hesitated but then nodded as he formulated his message to exclude any mentions of his tenant. When Draco was set up and ready, Gaara began.

"Sirius, I am fine. Moonlit night was tiring as expected. Examining the beast within but no clues as of yet. No need for you to visit. Best regards, Gaara."

"Is that all?" Draco asked, looking down at his paper to double-check that the entire thing was indeed only a couple lines long. He was also curious about Gaara's strangely colourful turn of phrase, the 'beast within' part, which was certainly apt but strangely poetic nonetheless.

"Yes. Thank you." Gaara spent a moment wondering whether these useless hands were better or worse than living without his voice, but it was a short musing since the answer was clear to him.

"I'll write this out neatly and send it tonight before dinner. I have to go to Potions now. Professor Snape's probably in a poor mood after we woke him up early this morning."

Gaara doubted it took an early wake up call to put him in a bad mood, but kept his opinion to himself. Draco maintained an unnaturally forgiving disposition towards their Head of House and Gaara was already feeling bad enough about last night without insulting Draco's unaccountably favourite professor.

Draco set off for his afternoon lesson and dodged the handful of questions his housemates directed towards him regarding his celebrity friend's injury on the way to the Dungeons. Speculation had been rife in Hogwarts, with every interested party coming up with a new and more sensational reason for Gaara's stay in the Hospital Wing than the last.

As the day went on and the extent of Gaara's visible injuries spread, Draco had to field any number of invasive interrogations until he stopped answering even the most tactfully placed queries. By the end of the day when it was time for him to trudge up the stairs to send Gaara's neatly re-written letter to Mr Black, he was glaring in a very Gaara-esque fashion at anybody who approached him.

He was so exhausted, Draco intended to skip dinner and to go straight to bed, hoping that his alarm clock would be enough to wake him in the morning. In fact, he hardly used his alarm any more since Gaara was almost always around to wake him in the mornings. He felt like he might sleep for a couple days if uninterrupted.

So, as Draco lied on his bed, staring at the darkened ceiling, his eyes aching but refusing to stay closed, he wondered whether a dose of Dreamless Sleep potion might be called for. However, after lying to Madam Pomfrey about the cause of Gaara's injuries, he worried that admitting he needed help to sleep since his was continually being drawn back to the horrors he witnessed might raise unwelcome questions. The same problem arose if he asked Professor Snape, so what was he to do?

He really needed to sleep.

The answer was obvious, a late-night trip to the Library was called for. He remembered that Dreamless Sleep contained flobberworm mucus, valerian, lavender, wormwood, and standard ingredient, but the measurements escaped him. Still, he should be able to make a batch in a couple hours, which would be quicker than if he simply waited to pass out from exhaustion. There was also the supplemental benefit of being distracted from both the aforementioned horrors and his unsettling suspicions regarding his best friend.

Something was going on in Gaara's head and he knew there was no way he would ever find out unless Gaara decided to confide in him. When he considered how long it took Gaara to tell him what planet he came from, Draco doubted he would be hearing about Gaara' s innermost thoughts any time soon.

Certainly not before the next lunar cycle.

The book he was looking for was easy to find and soon he was back in his House, crouched over his cauldron in the bathroom.

It was surely a sign of his sleep-deprived state that Draco did not concern himself with the extreme danger of making untested potions at his level and then taking them unsupervised, particularly in his compromised mental state and worse yet since the potion shared a number of ingredients and qualities with the Draught of Living Death.

Two hours and sizeable mess in the bathroom later, Draco had filled two dozen vials with the dangerous potion and was ready to get his night's sleep. It was as he was brushing the petals of lavender from his borrowed book that he saw the potion directly after Dreamless Sleep, called the Dreamwalker Potion.

His eyes were swimming and his mind garbled, but Draco still took in the description the potion provided, detailing its ability to join the dreams of two individuals so that one might travel into the mind of another. Maybe that was the answer. It might be an invasion of Gaara's cherished privacy, but otherwise, what harm could it do?

It seemed like a perfect solution. But not now. Now, he was going to sleep.

He settled into the bed and took a swig from one of his vials, the drowsiness he'd been feeling all day intensifying suddenly until he was dragged into blissful unconsciousness.

The next morning, five minutes before the end of breakfast, Draco was finally roused from his blissful oblivion by the incessant ringing of his alarm. When he finally showed up to his first lesson of the day, the entire class stopped dead when they saw the state of his hair. Any day where Draco's hair was not perfectly slicked back and pristine was a one in a million.

Draco was eager to stop by and see Gaara again at lunch, but having skipped every meal for the past day and a half, he was actually too hungry to worry. In the end, he hardly had time to say hello before he had to ditch Gaara again and go to his next lesson. Luckily for Gaara, Draco had the foresight to bring a few books with him so that the redhead, who was trapped in the Medical Wing for the time being, would have something to do but meditate and stare at the walls. He also snuck Gaara's prohibited gourd into the infirmary and stashed it under his bed, for Gaara's peace of mind.

Madam Pomfrey was becoming somewhat unnerved by a patient she otherwise rather liked, mostly because he did not bother her, with his prolonged presence in her care. Although, his tendency toward harm (in increasingly ludicrous ways) was trying her patience, it was his blank staring and total disaffect when talking that troubled her. She had dealt with all sorts over the decades but Gaara was beyond even the most atypical young wizards she had looked after. More than any petty discomfort she felt, Severus had failed to find out what really happened and it was of much greater concern, that there were no assurances these injuries would not happen again.

In the evening, Draco came around for a longer visit and caught Gaara up on the day's goings-on. He would have had yesterday to recount too but he remembered precious little of it.

Gaara had received a response from Sirius, as well as letters from Professor Lupin, Mrs Weasley and Draco's own mother. Draco helped Gaara write out short replies to each when he found using his sand too clumsy to control the pen. He could make his words legible but Draco insisted that such chicken scratch was ill-suited for any sort of writing, let alone correspondence (especially with Draco's mother, of all people).

Most of the replies were assurances that Gaara was fine and would recover fully, given time, although Draco added a short congratulations on Sirius' successful bid for Triwizard Tournament tickets, which had gone on sale at midnight and had sold out in four hours. Draco's father had likewise managed to acquire tickets, although Draco doubted his father risked applying for them in the pedestrian manner Sirius had.

Luna had appeared for a quick visit but had been upset by the sight of Gaara's prolonged injuries and had to excuse herself in tears. Draco tried to explain this to Gaara but it was a wasted effort.

After keeping Gaara company for a couple hours and then eating a hearty dinner, Draco was ready to go and recoup the last of his sleep deficit. He was preparing for bed when he went to check on the mess he had left from his impromptu potion brewing the night before. The house elves had apparently seen fit to tidy up for him, which was just as well as he did not feel up to doing that particular job himself right now. They had put everything neatly away except for the book that they had correctly deduced was Library property.

Draco looked at the book and something bothered him. He remembered most of making the Dreamless Sleep the night before, which miraculously had not killed him, but something afterwards had caught his attention. A recipe, but for the life of him he could not remember what. Something to do with Gaara?

He settled into bed and picked up the book and scanned the contents but nothing jumped out at him. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. Lovegood would say something about Wrackspurts or some such nonsense.

Giving up on what he assumed was a false feeling, he idly flicked through the book and came back to the Dreamless Sleep recipe, noting that he had brewed a fifth year potion in his bathroom while sleep deprived. And Longbottom couldn't make second year potions under supervision without blowing himself up!

As he was about to close the book, his eyes glided over the next page and something seemed familiar. Was this the thing he was half-remembering? Why was he interested in a Dreamwalker potion? What did it have to do with Gaara?

He clearly remembered now that he was excited to find this potion and that it would help with Gaara somehow, but the reasoning was totally lost to him. What use could it be when it took over a month to brew and required ingredients he would have to send away for?

Despite all that he did not know about Gaara, Draco was fairly sure whatever was going on in his head would be a nightmare. Not something he wanted to going walking around in. But then, how would he ever truly know his friend if he did not take some invasive and drastic measure to force the issue?

He could always brew the potion and throw it away if he changed his mind. He had a month to think about it and this would keep him pretty busy.

But would Gaara ever forgive him if he went ahead with it?

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

In the days following his admittance to the Medical Wing, Gaara welcomed any schoolwork he could use to distract himself from the monotony and the creeping doubts about his experiment in the Dungeons. Draco had clearly been hurt by the experience but he seemed to be recovering at about the same rate that Gaara's physical recovery was proceeding.

Draco had announced, apparently unprompted, that since Professor Lupin was gone and not coming back, he would take over Gaara's supplemental spellcasting lessons again. The redhead had been flagging behind even the bottom of the pack in terms of his practical abilities lately and with his absence in the Medical Wing stretching onwards, he needed some extracurricular help to catch up.

Granted, with both of his hands still largely out of commission, it was more of a hypothetical training, with him strictly observing the wand waving as Draco demonstrated what they had been learning and tried to convey the important parts that might trip the infirm boy up later. Still, beyond alleviating boredom, Gaara was appreciative of the help.

"Remember to flick the tip right at the end or you won't be able to aim the spell." Draco said, emphasising that part of the movement. He'd had to watch Weasley doing it wrong for twenty minutes before Granger interceded.

Gaara's face was pinched as he concentrated entirely on the task at hand. Strong as the pain potions were, he still winced when his fingers automatically formed into a gentle grip under the bandages, sending a spike of pain up him arm.

"I've been meaning to ask, what would you want to do, when you finish Hogwarts?" Draco specifically avoided using the phrase 'when you grow up', since the topic was uncomfortable enough without adding an insult to Gaara's height and maturity. Ever since Gaara had revealed that he would most likely be staying in this world, Draco had been wondering about his future because he was so… Gaara. It was impossible to imagine him sitting in an office or doing any sort of mundane career, really.

"I've had a job before. I will try to continue here." Gaara didn't look up from his examination of his hand's movement.

"I don't think there will be quite as much demand for ninja here as in your world." Draco warned him.

"The equivalent would be a mercenary in this land. Or an assassin. I assume there is demand for those services."

Draco stared at his roommate who casually contemplated becoming a hitman after finishing school but continued on regardless, "What about becoming an Auror? That's a more… traditional career option."

Gaara nodded but moved them back on to their previous topic of wand movement. He doubted that working as an Auror would present him with any real challenge, and beyond that he simply didn't want to think of his future if it did not include his home and his friends and family there. But likewise, he couldn't envision a future without the friends he had made here too. He knew this meant he was bound to be disappointed with however things turned out, regarding Dumbledore's plan to help him return home.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara had managed to escape from Madam Pomfrey's care after only four days of boredom with the promise that he would return for twice-daily check-ups and dressing changes. She had wanted to keep him there longer or at least have him excused from lessons until he was more fully healed, but his will trumped hers and he insisted on returning to functional life.

Draco had been happy to have him back but the awkward silences in the aftermath of Gaara's transformation would not abate, no matter how Gaara tried to force some joviality. It wasn't his specialty but he gave it every effort only to hit against the brick wall of Draco's suspicion and trauma. It was yet another instance where Gaara could not understand a civilians' reaction to a mildly violent event.

Draco was acting like he was the one who had been hospitalised.

They settled back into their usual routine eventually, but every once in a while Draco would sneak off somewhere for some secret project that wasn't a scheduled opening ceremony practice. It bothered Gaara and he thought about following Draco to wherever he was going, but after everything that had happened, he would not feel right breaking Draco's trust in that way. Draco was his friend and whatever secret he was keeping was his to keep. It would be the height of hypocrisy to insist on full disclosure when he had made such a habit of withholding information in this world.

By the end of the month, Gaara was able to walk without the humiliating and karmic aid of a crutch, and his hands were both back to full functionality. The rest of the school, who had taken a keen interest in his injuries, had assumed his speedy recovery meant he had not been too badly hurt in the first place, although they still puzzled over why he had not been healed by Madam Pomfrey.

With his newfound popularity, Gaara was unprepared for the positive responses to his healthy return to lessons and meals. Even in Suna, he was unused to people, strangers, being happy to see him.

Even after spending those four days on bed rest, studying obsessively, Gaara was still behind his classmates and had a lot of work to catch up on. Not one to slack off or fall behind, Gaara worked around the clock (to Draco's chagrin) to catch up as quickly as possible.

Busy as this schedule made him, the day of the opening ceremony came upon him with a certain amount of surprise. This was something of a shameful oversight since Draco had been talking about it with increasing resentment all month and yet Gaara had still somehow tuned it all out. It was only when he noticed the swarm of Ministry workers, which had descended on the castle, that he pieced together the significance of the date.

The Ministry-employed decorators and organisers made quick work of what had been left unfinished before the start of term, making as much of the castle gleam as was possible. Everything was polished and re-polished to a mirror shine, making certain hallways rather perilous to anyone wearing leather-soled shoes, as those unfortunate individuals had learned when they slipped and slid in every direction.

The Weasley twin who wasn't taking part in the opening ceremony had complimented the workers and then gone about applying a variety of different slippery substances to the affected floors to see which sent the next unfortunate student sliding the furthest. By the end of the day, the prank had evolved into an organised sport amongst their friends and peers closely resembling muggle curling, using mops and first years.

Out in the courtyard, dozens of Ministry workers had set about building a pair of unassuming wooden structures no bigger than garden sheds, although more finely accoutred, that would be large enough on the inside to house each of the visiting schools. No Hogwarts students were permitted to enter but rumours ran rampant about the levels of opulence and comfort contained within each that made them the envy of many, mostly Slytherins.

Draco had been excused from lessons for the entire day, as had everybody else involved in the performing and running of the opening ceremony, which made for a very dull day, in Gaara's eyes. The agitation among the student body would have been much more entertaining with Draco's colourful and snobbish commentary.

He did, however, get to overhear a hundred fragmented conversations concerning the ceremony, the incoming visiting schools and any celebrity Quidditch players contained therein, boasts of who would be entering, predictions of Champions, and wagers of which school would come out victorious. They were the same conversations that had been taking place since the start of September but in greater concentration. One or two of his braver classmates tried to drag Gaara into one of these discussions but he begged off in favour of peace and quiet. It simply wasn't the same without Draco.

At lunch he observed the construction of extra seating for the visiting schools to sit on and spectate in the Great Hall. It had been announced early on that there would be a rota for which school could sit and eat in the hall at which times each day after they arrived and a small orange part of Gaara's mind was looking forward to the inevitable discord and chaos.

Lessons ended early that day so that everyone had ample time to clean up and change into fresh clothes.

It was pandemonium in the castle after Gaara had 'readied himself' for the night's event. He had killed ten minutes in their room with a half decent book before he decided to go on up. He did not see any reason to change his perfectly clean clothes so he had joined the stream of students already making their way back up through the castle, all vying for a spot at the front of the crowd for the best view of the arrivals.

When dozens and then hundreds of Slytherins all wanted the same thing, a little pushing and shoving was the least one could expect. At least two students had been hexed by the time the other schools were due.

Almost every student not busy preparing for the opening ceremony could be found waiting outside of the castle for the incoming Durmstrang and Beauxbatons groups. It was late October and the wind was as chilly as one might expect but it did not deter nor dampen the students' spirits. The staff, on the other hand, were less enthused and more bothered by the delay of the other schools, shivering in the cold as they had been commanded to by the Minister.

The Ministry officials appeared an hour after the rest of the crowd, looking far too smug and warm for their own good. Fudge, Bagman and Crouch all strolled out with Morbidus and a handful of other nameless Ministry lackeys close behind. A dozen Aurors had also arrived on the scene and were formed into a rough perimeter around the VIPs.

Gaara saw that among the Ministry notables, Lucius was absent, which must have been a profound embarrassment for the ambitious Ministry man. He caught the eye of Morbidus and quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to draw attention to himself at that moment. The Ministry already had an unhealthy interest in him, he did not want them renewing or deepening the disturbing attention they paid to him.

Evidently the Ministry visitors knew something the Hogwarts staff did not as their arrival only preceded the excited announcement of an incoming flying carriage by a few minutes. A few voices had piped up about something in the sky and every face turned upwards, watching in amazement or bewilderment as an enormous pink carriage was pulled through the sky and safely onto the ground by equally oversized winged-horses.

The landing had been a little bumpy but Gaara was more focussed on the unerring trend of silly magical transportation methods, each more impractical and dangerous than the last.

That train of thought was derailed when the tallest woman Gaara had ever seen, perhaps the tallest person, stepped out of the carriage and towered above even Hagrid, who had appeared to wrangle the pegasi. She was, unlike the enormous man, well groomed and seemed comparatively demure even from a distance.

Following her were the blue-robed pupils of her school, all normal-sized and well-presented. They hopped out one after another and Gaara realised the carriage, even as big as it was, must have been expanded to accommodate the dozens upon dozens of French boys and girls.

Gaara watched them all flutter about in their fashionable blue robes and compared them in his head to the groups of lower nobles in his world that he had encountered on occasion, and the similarity was uncanny. Clearly these were 'cultured' children, set apart from their more plebeian counterparts in Hogwarts.

One or two of the Beauxbatons students looked in his direction, him being relatively easy to spot in a crowd, and shared a politely covert whisper about the new celebrity from Hogwarts. Gaara might have been annoyed by this attention if he did not see Potter receiving ten times as many looks and whispers. Definitely shades of nobility to be found in these children.

The newly arrived were corralled into some semblance of order by their older students, much like the giant pegasi had been by Hagrid, while the headmistress was beckoned over to the red carpet on which Fudge, Bagman, Crouch and Dumbledore were waiting. Warm greetings were shared out of earshot and then silence as they all waited for the third school to arrive.

Hushed conversations continued within the divided crowds of teenagers after Hagrid had pulled the enormous equine conveyances towards the specially built stables. This had been difficult both due to their size and their apparent interest in the Hogwarts students in the opposite direction, although Gaara had a sinking feeling this was more to do with his presence within that group than the group as a whole. He was just about done with the spectacle, ready to head inside and enjoy the warmth and quiet, when shouts rose up again everybody looked to the Black Lake.

Yet more ridiculous means of travel: an underwater ship. It was becoming hard to think any less of magical minds when they kept confronting him with such stupidity again and again.

Five minutes after the ship had docked, the headmaster of Durmstrang marched up the stairs and into sight, standing at the head of a line of young men and women dressed in furs and standing like soldiers or barbarians. They completely lacked the refinement of the Beauxbatons contingent and the disorder of the Hogwarts pupils, which Gaara appreciated. None of them spared the other teenagers a second look, they kept their eyes straight ahead and maintained military discipline.

Gaara tried to imagine scrawny and aristocratic Draco standing alongside these hardened boys and girls as Lucius had originally intended. Narcissa was certainly in the right, as far as Gaara could see, having blocked that particular plan. They would have eaten Draco alive.

The headmasters and headmistress greeted each other again, less cordially this time, and then the Minister formally introduced himself. At that moment, Filch ran out of the castle and up to the select group of VIPs and world renowned academics, and told them that the final preparations had been completed and that they could go inside now.

Everyone doubted that the word of Argus Filch was what prompted the illustrious group to head inside, so it was amusing that he insisted on walking in front of them, as if he were playing a vital role in leading the way.

The assembled professors herded the students back into the castle, towards the Great Hall, and had them take their seats for the ceremony. Shortly thereafter, the French and Bulgarian schools followed and took their seats on the bleachers at either side of the hall. Each group's entrance into the Great Hall came with a slight flourish, some acrobatics and magic demonstrated, but it was to pale in comparison to the spectacle Hogwarts had concocted by order of their Ministry. As such, if the heads of the foreign schools had been expecting awe or much more than raised eyebrows and smiles, they were disappointed. Olympe Maxine and Igor Karkaroff took their seats at the head of the hall alongside the hosting professors and waited for the opening to officially commence.

Gaara was sat in his customary seat at the Slytherin table and had reserved Draco's ready for if he should join them after the showcase. A couple of his housemates tried to pull the chair out and one even told him to let it go, but Gaara ignored them all and held the seat in place. Not willing to make a scene, each and every challenger walked away to a place further down the hall.

Gaara did not pay much attention to the beginning of the evening's event, uninterested in the formalities and niceties observed by the upper classes and politicians. Watching Dumbledore and Fudge play out some scene of friendly acquaintanceship and agreement was tedious, as were the public greetings to the visiting head teachers. All of this was being reported upon by half a dozen trusted international newspaper journalists and a radio presenter set up in the corner, describing everything that happened to a listening public.

If Draco were not set to perform, Gaara would have left already.

Fudge stood at the podium after the headmaster had said his part, "Why, thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. Now, it is time for me to hand over proceedings to the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Ludovic Bagman." Fudge's words drew a polite round of applause, the fifth since the students had been seated, before he stepped back to stand at the head of the table, where Dumbledore was supposed to be, and watched Ludo approach the stand.

"It is my pleasure to announce the commencement of the three hundred and twenty-first Triwizard Tournament. We now all have the pleasure of witnessing one of Britain's original contributions to this ancient and honourable institution, a spectacular opening performance, arranged and provided by the young men and women of Hogwarts." Bagman clapped his hands grandly and took his seat to the side of the Minister.

The doors to the Great Hall had closed themselves discreetly during Fudge's overlong speech at the start so that they could dramatically slam open upon Bagman's signal. The candlelight dimmed further and the spectating crowd hushed their whispers which had punctuated the entire event thus far.

A thudding could be heard in the hall, coming closer with each bang until an enormous wooden cube rolled into sight outside of the door. Its size made some question whether it would even fit through the grand doors of the Great Hall, but no one knew quite what to think of this animated inanimate object, though it did serve to further heighten their anticipation.

It rolled right up to the opening and then continued inwards, just squeezing past the doorframe, but with each subsequent roll it left behind a surface of polished wood on the floor, covering the centre of the hall all the way up to the front where it stopped and then collapsed to cover the rest of the open space there. All watching were enraptured by this strange start and continued to watch as the wood covering the floor started to rise, thickening until it stood two feet deep and looked to be a solid stage.

Gaara didn't like to admit that he had been somewhat impressed by the literal setting of the stage but it had been a rather dramatic entrance. Despite his better mind, Gaara had gained an objective understanding of the requirements for drama thanks to Kankuro over the years. His older brother was all about the drama.

The light outside of the hall was again disturbed, drawing attention back to the entrance, as the school choir and musicians took their places at that end of the stage, beginning a fast-paced piece of music Gaara couldn't hope to recognise. Magic must have been employed to amplify or transmit the instruments as they sounded as clear as if they had been set up in the centre of the cavernous hall rather than outside of it.

With the music playing, the preparations were complete, and soon an enormous flaming dragon flew above the heads of the musicians and into the Great Hall. It circled and flew about above everyone's heads in intricate patterns until landing at the head of the hall with its back to the professors and Ministry officials. When it was settled, it roared so loudly some of the first years nearly jumped out of their seats.

Suddenly, in ran four students dressed in brightly coloured robes, one red, one blue, one yellow, and one in Green, which tipped Gaara off that they must be playing the four founders. The founders squaring off against a great dragon brought to mind the introductory chapter of Hogwarts: A History that retold the founding of the school in the tenth century.

As Gaara remembered it, the greatest dragon to ever be seen in Britain was terrorising the countryside until the four greatest witches and wizards of the time, leading an army made of the available magical community, fought the dragon all the way up to Scotland until Godric Gryffindor could strike the finishing blow with his sword, piercing the heart of 'Y Draig Goch' and vanquishing the scourge.

The four actors on stage played out their roles in a pantomimed fight as other students appeared, wearing period rags, to back them up. They all sent brightly coloured sparks at the conjured fire dragon, which had been cast and was being controlled by four sixth years behind the orchestra.

As the 'founders' ducked and weaved around each other to cast all the more impressive fake spells, Gaara recognised the movements of Salazar Slytherin to be Draco's. No wonder Draco had to go to all of those supplementary practices and always looked so tired, he was playing one of the lead roles. It was just as well since Lucius would have pitched a fit if Draco had been cast to play anybody less prestigious.

The dragon seemed to be gaining ground so the actor playing Gryffindor, who looked a bit like one of the Weasley twins, come to think of it, brandished a sword that Gaara could have sworn used to sit in Dumbledore's office. That meant it was likely the real Sword of Gryffindor, which was a nice touch of authenticity mixed with reckless disregard for health and safety. Whichever of the twins ran forward, presumably safe behind some form of fire protection charm, and plunged the legendary sword into the dragon of flames, which thrashed and then started to fade until only smoke was left to rise into the rafters. Another short round of applause followed while the miscellaneous villager witches and wizards celebrated the slaying of the dragon.

The founders also declared some impressive sounding words that Gaara ignored in favour of trying to catch a glimpse of Draco's face. He had been complaining all along that this thespian work was humiliating and below him, so Gaara was satisfied to see the blond's expression full of earnest concentration. It was rewarding to see Draco not looking as burdened, even as the crowd on stage divided into four, presumably representing the forming of the four Houses, and he was stood at the head of his own miniature army.

After the players finished announcing the four founders' core values, they all walked back to the exit in lockstep. Gaara was surprised and impressed that whoever had written this had managed to sidestep the animosity with which Salazar was said to have left the school. Knowing the universal prejudice of witches and wizards either for or against Slytherins, Gaara could only assume it had been a joint effort.

After the departure of Draco and the other founder actors, an unfamiliar boy emerged from Draco's Slytherin group and as he walked he rapidly aged until he stood at the front looking uncannily like Merlin, three-foot-long beard included.

The performance went on with the newly formed Hogwarts Houses clearing away to allow someone dressed as a medieval knight, complete with golden crown, to approach Merlin. Merlin and Arthur continued for a while before things moved on. The hour-long play exhibited some of magical Britain's proudest historical moments. Gaara, studious person that he was, recognised most of what was happening from the various books he had devoured since arriving.

Gaara spotted Draco in a few different roles through the rest of the performance, filling out the numbers in discreet ways. The action built to a climax as someone playing Dumbledore fought against someone who must have been Gellert Grindlewald. It was, by Gaara's estimation, awkward with the man himself sat at the head of the hall watching also, with a significantly less pleased expression on his face than his actor counterpart.

The play stopped after that war, avoiding the assuredly problematic topic of the wizarding war against Voldemort's forces. The performance ended with a rousing song and dance number which made Gaara wince as he imagined Draco somewhere in the costumed crowd on stage being forced to dance along. This was likely what drew the majority of Draco's ire.

After the final beat had played, when the panting teenagers all crouched in their finishing positions, Dumbledore calmly and slowly walked out onto the stage to address the assembled crowds of students, visitors, and journalists, and pulled out his own wand. The sour look on his face as much a reflection of his ongoing disapproval of this event as his disappointment that his call for the 'Hoggy Warty' school song to be performed had been overruled. They hadn't taken any of his suggestions.

"For a thousand years, the pupils of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have learned and grown in this castle. It has seen the rise and fall of governments and empires, dark lords and ways of life. The challenges presented to any one of its children have been unique and caused more than one to stumble. Caused others to fall. However, I believe these challenges that we have all faced, all do face, and may yet face, are fitted to the times in which we live. The Triwizard Tournament is a dangerous challenge that many may wish to enter, but from those eligible, only the most capable will be selected by the Goble of Fire.

"Whether you are from Hogwarts or one of our esteemed sister schools, I wish you the best of luck in entering and through the tournament. You will need it."

A number of Ministry workers wheeled a peculiar mini obelisk up to the podium and left it with the headmaster.

"And with this, it is my duty to announce the official start of the Triwizard Tournament!" He said, tapping his wand against what turned out to be the shell of the obelisk, which melted away to reveal the Goblet of Fire in all its glory.

Dumbledore retreated to his seat after this and Ludo Bagman resumed his place on stage to reaffirm the rules of entry.

"For the next twenty-four hours, any student of the three schools who is aged over fourteen may write his or her name on a piece of parchment along with the name of their school, and cast it into the flames, if they so wish. By order of the Ministry, no one is to stop any eligible prospective Champion from entering their name for consideration. An Age Line will be drawn to prevent ineligible applicants from submitting their names, and a guard will be positioned at the Goblet to make sure things run smoothly."

Gaara looked along the adults at the head of the room and he found three sets of eyes on him. Fudge just happened to have been glancing at him at that moment and had immediately looked away when Gaara met his eyes. Morbidus had been looking around at each of the noteworthy children (there weren't many of them) and his eyes happened to ghost over one of the most interesting of the lot. He held Gaara's gaze for a few beats before casually looking away.

The last of the three did not seem to have such a casual interest. Dumbledore was staring right at him, seemingly waiting for Gaara to look in his direction. Gaara supposed the old man was worried he might not go through with their deal. Of course, Albus learned nothing from Gaara's blank face to ease his uncertainty and worse than that, looking at the child, however lacking in ostensible innocence as he might be, the same creeping doubts about the morality of his plan resurfaced. For the greater good, it might be, but he found he was relying on the sacrifices of children too much in his old age.

He sat back in his chair and tried not to think about the immorality of his plans. Gaara was a trained fighter, from a different world where children did not enjoy the same sheltered existence that his own pupils did. It was the best option available.

If Albus ever permitted a biography, as many had proposed, it would probably be titled: Albus Dumbledore: For Lack of a Better Idea.

Gaara, for his part, was eyeing the Goblet that burned with a curious blue flame and wondering how he would best submit his name. He was allowed to go out at night but that permission might not be passed on to whoever they roped into guarding the Goblet of Fire, and the last thing this endeavour needed was him getting into a fight with the guard in the middle of the night. Not to mention the suspicion it might draw if nobody knew he had entered. He seemed to attract suspicion all the time.

The players of the opening ceremony were finally allowed up from their inconspicuous finishing poses to join their Housemates around the Great Hall. Gaara looked back when Draco pulled his chair out, and gave him a small smile in recognition of his hard work. Draco seemed to think he was being mocked because he gritted his teeth and looked away embarrassed.

After all of the festivities and pompous aggrandisement, the serving of dinner was anticlimactic. The Hogwarts student had a scant thirty minutes to finish all of their dinners before they were expected to vacate their seats for the visiting schools' students. The reporters watched this with little interest and instead interviewed the Hogwarts staff and the Ministry officials they had access to. Pre-empting another attempt like that which the infamous Ms. Skeeter perpetrated at the start of the year, Dumbledore had demanded that the children be off limits to the press that evening and that only the Champions, after they were selected, would be open for interviews. That last part had been at the Minister's insistence, not intending to keep the Champions away from the limelight.

Dumbledore had also neglected to inform Gaara over the inevitable increased attention he would have to endure when he was selected. That part he was less guilt-ridden over.

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A/N: This chapter really got away from me.

Anyway, I want to mention for those who did not see the note I added to the end of the last chapter, that the ever-generous Spiral of Destiny has once again been drawing away and created another piece of fanart for this story. Please follow the link on my profile or search for Spiral-of-Destiny on Deviantart to see it.

Anyway, thank you for reading and please do take a moment to review. I will probably do a chapter of Suna Suna no Naruto next.