2/3

An idea formed in Gaara's mind, and, to even his surprise, it wasn't about murdering or maiming the winner of the 'Hogwarts-Greasiest-Professor' award. Pushing through his reservations on the thought of doing anymore flying in this world, Gaara called out his sand platform, using all of it to make a sturdy surface for him to stand on as he was carried upwards and back onto the Quidditch field.

Draco was shocked to see his roommate return after his dramatic exit only a few minutes prior, immediately changing his facial expression to a more socially acceptable one of a slight frown; a tiny improvement upon his usual downright scowl but a telltale sign of happiness for the returning ninja to spot.

The broom riding teen cast a casual glance towards Gaara's preferred form of transportation before disregarding it as another of the scary roommate's eccentricities, plus, he would rather enjoy flying than spend the next half-hour trying to question the stony individual about matters that would most probably be left unanswered. Draco rose higher and together they swooped through the air; though even to Draco who was still in firm denial about his own enjoyment, he was definitely the happier of the two, as shown by Gaara's continuingly blank expression. After all, ninja spent a lot of their time flying through the air, Gaara would rather not be spending his time working but it made the closest relation he had in the school more cheerful, which in turn might prevent him from trying to subject others to his misery so it seemed like a worthwhile irritant if nothing else.

Eventually, after a lengthy flight, Draco conjured up a basketball sized chunk of wood, named a 'Quaffle,' which they passed between them in a miniature game of Quidditch. Predictably, Draco won by no less than one-hundred points because of his much faster vehicle and Gaara's not-so-secret lack of interest. By the time they had finished their game and landed, it was already time for dinner, leading both shinobi and wizard to hasten their gait in fear of one of two things. For Draco, it was the fear of dementors roaming the grounds at night, and for Gaara it was the threat of having to listen to his detestable potions teacher and head of house lecture him on not being a nuisance to good students, like he had needed to on many an occasion.

Fortunately, both the late comers were able to sneak into the Great Hall unnoticed when a mysterious explosion of smoke filled the hall; luckily, the two apparent perpetrators, by the name of Fred and George Weasley, who vehemently denied the offence, were promptly caught and reprimanded.

Draco didn't question their good luck; he just sat down quietly along with his silent associate and started eating whilst said associate closed his discreet weapons pouch.

Gaara bitterly observed that there was at least a metre between either of the two outcasts and any of their supposed housemates, and even the closest to them looked a mixture of fear and loathing. All Gaara needed now was an attempt on his life and it would be as good as home.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Days were inevitably tough when you were a cursed demon-container trapped in a foreign world, alone, unable to speak and stuck in a magical school where, in under a month, you had become the local pariah and gossip fodder. As such, the resident tanuki-host was having a pretty hard time throughout his school days, which was not helped by his continuing difficulties controlling his magical outbursts that had destroyed three and a half classrooms, and so, was disallowed from practicing magic in certain lessons like transfiguration. McGonagall had stated that it was difficult enough to ensure the safety of the animal participants when teaching her subject and, frankly, the idea of Gaara pointing his wand at anything living terrified her.

One of the few lessons that Gaara had been spared any major adversity in was Defence Against the Dark Arts, though, the littlest recovering serial killer suspected that this was solely down to the secret mutual friend he shared with his teacher. Still, in the rare practical lessons, no one, including Draco Malfoy, was brave enough or stupid enough to practice with or against the walking wrecking crew. When Gaara had tried to cast the disarming spell on a practice dummy a few days before he had completely destroyed not only his inanimate opponent but at least five others in the immediate vicinity.

Still, Gaara preferred his embarrassing inability in magic to the soul-destroyingly boring theory lessons where he was forced to listen to the endless lectures that even he, with his ninja-honed focus, struggled to keep his attention directed at the front of the room where it belonged instead of the increasingly interesting tree-shaped cloud outside of the window.

Despite his immense enjoyment of books and of reading, the youngest sand-sibling was no more an academic than he was a ramen enthusiast, which had come to be a problem in the past, in situations like the first part of the Chunin exams; but that was what being a ninja with a floating third-eye was all about.

The surprisingly relaxed student had actually surrendered in the battle against History of Magic. He just couldn't stay awake in the most boring experience he had ever been forced to attend, so he had taken to replacing himself with a sedimentary sand-clone in a sleeping position on his desk whilst he explored more of the enormous castle. Surprisingly, even after several weeks, Draco had yet to notice that the red-head lying beside him was completely hollow and made out of sand. He would replace the sand-clone with himself at the end of the torturous lesson and no one was any the wiser.

The only reason he had been able to avoid any unnecessary adversity from his ignorance and inexperience was because of his steadfast reading around his subjects; that, and the teachers were still a little too intimidated by the scariest Slytherin in recent years to risk aggravating him. Even after Snape had been forced to disallow Gaara's participation in any and all class practical activities, he had yet to give a single detention, as the notion of spending an extra few hours alone with the psychopathic-looking boy was not one he was willing to seriously consider.

In the tanuki-boy's current class, he was attempting to mimic the 'Stupefy' charm using a pencil instead of his wand, as even Remus Lupin, experienced dueller, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and veteran of the Order of the Phoenix in the first wizarding war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was not confident enough in his abilities to try and defend against whatever Gaara's wand would create in place of the student's simple stunning spell.

Once the humiliation was over for the Jinchuriki, Lupin dismissed his class so that they could raise hell for someone else, preferably Snape or Filch. The professor spotted a bright red patch moving at the back of the crowd, in no hurry to leave, accompanied by a platinum-blonde head who looked very pleased with his achievement in his last class, namely rendering one Ronald Weasley unconscious, only to be reawakened by Lupin's own 'Rennervate' counter-curse soon after. He briskly walked to the exiting teens and asked Gaara to stay behind briefly so they could have a little chat. A private chat, he added when Draco, looking irritated to just be in Lupin's presence, showed no signs of leaving without being prompted.

When the room was empty other than the two silent occupants, Remus offered Gaara a seat before leaning against one of the many desks sat at the side of the room, once Gaara had removed his gourd and sat down.

"Gaara, I've noticed that you've been rather closed off recently; after that incident with the Boggart." Even the aging Marauder knew that wasn't really anything new, but there had definitely been a change in the boy's behaviour, making the recluse even more reserved than before. "Would you like to talk about what happened, about the fear you faced?"

A slow shake of the head dashed that thin sliver of hope for the well-wishing man who had wanted Gaara to open up a little; even if it was just to him. However, the fear inducing teen had no desire to reveal his past or emotions to this man, despite his obviously kind intentions, not yet.

"I'm just worried. We all know so little about you, Gaara, and when you faced your fear like that…" Lupin didn't need to finish as Gaara clearly had no intention of giving anything away for the moment, and badgering him wouldn't help any. "Okay, but if you ever need help, or want to talk to somebody, don't hesitate. I know this is a strange place for you," The werewolf had lowered his voice at this part, not willing for an eavesdropper to hear about their illicit connection, "And being here all alone must be difficult, but Padfoot and I are both here for you. You should probably get going; goodness knows what Mr. Malfoy is getting up to in your absence."

Gaara stood, letting the heavy words sink in for him whilst he swung the gourd easily onto his back before he walked towards the door. As his hand rested on the door handle, he inaudibly sighed and reached behind himself and pulled the cork out of place to allow a small tendril of sand to crawl out and spell a few words. Soon after they had been shaped, they were dispersed as the (panda) raccoon-eyed boy left the room, the sand following soon after. It had read: 'She was my mother.'

Lupin, shocked beyond words, dropped the matter for the foreseeable future.

Upon leaving the classroom, the outcast found the halls to be completely empty so, in one of his sombre moods, he decided to enjoy the peace and tranquillity and walk lazily towards the nearest exit so he could relax in the autumn sun for a few hours before either dinner or his homework needed his attention. Lamentably, Gaara stumbled across what appeared to be Draco and a handful of other Slytherin upperclassmen harassing a first-year Gryffindor who looked more terrified than an Akimichi at an intervention. Well… at least Draco was socializing…

The tiny retired executioner stood still for a good few moments, as he weighed up whether he actually cared enough to intervene or if his conscience would hound him for hours for letting the child suffer a pummelling. With a dejected sigh he slumped towards the crowd who were currently playing keep-away with the eleven-year-old's new wand. A few of them looked up in time to see Gaara grab the wand from the air before handing it to the child and letting him run away from the suddenly still group who had parted like the Red Sea at the sight of the do-gooder.

"What in the world do you think you're doing?" The tallest of the Slytherins present demanded, as he watched their terrified prey run around a corner and out of sight.

"Yeah, that was a mud-blood you just helped."

"Draco, I thought you said he was a pureblood!" The boy across from Malfoy shouted accusatorily towards their social better and school underclassman.

"Look, I'm sure he's planning something much wors-" The platinum blonde couldn't finish his practiced bravado as the collar of his shirt was thrust into his wind pipe when the shinobi he was defending dragged him away from the group of his housemates with one hand on the scruff of his robes.

Ignoring Draco's chokes and the Slytherins' startled expressions at his raw physical strength, that was slight compared to his peers back home but still Herculean on this planet, Gaara hauled his roommate onwards through the castle, thankful for the clean floors that were aiding him infinitely with their slippery polished surfaces. As he walked forwards, the occasional resistance coming from Draco's thrashing feet, the Jinchuriki wondered who or what cleaned the floors around the castle, as he was certain the caretaker wouldn't use his mop for anything other than cleaning up vomit and hitting trespassing students. His trivial musings weren't long lived as he decided that he'd walked quite far enough, judging by Draco having gone still all of a sudden. Turning a corner into a darkened and isolated alcove, Gaara performed one more feat of amazing strength for the day, already having tired his arm out sufficiently, as he hefted Draco up to his feet, holding on a little longer than necessary to make sure his acquaintance was fully conscious and not going to fall back down to the ground again.

Thankfully the heir to the Malfoy fortune was still conscious and was understandably upset because of his maltreatment only moments ago, though his fuming rant fell on death ears as Gaara called sand out of his gourd and started to form a few quick hand-seals, stopping Draco in the middle of his train of thought as he watched the sand rise to a soft and constantly shifting pillar that erected to just under Draco's own height. Before long, the shifting of the sand pillar began to slow as it took the shape of the newest addition to the Hogwarts family. The sand particles all rolled into place and recreated even the most miniscule of details from the red-head who didn't look even close to as amazed as Draco, who couldn't stop staring as the sand-clone started to change colour to match Gaara exactly, detail for detail minus the enormous gourd absent from the copy.

"What in th-"

"It's called a sand clone, Draco."

Draco was struck more speechless than the original Gaara, who was standing to the right of his clone whom had just said the first words anyone from that world had ever heard Gaara say. The newly speechless teen didn't know which he was more startled by: the fact that the mute teen had just spoken to him, albeit through a clone, or that Gaara, who had caused more than a few nightmares around the castle and was thought to be the most terrifying thing to roam the halls since the sixty-foot basilisk from Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, had such a soft speaking voice.

"I need to talk to you." The delicate voice returned soon after, though it was in a predictably short and reserved manner, much like Gaara's sand messages which most people around the school had assumed were to accommodate his limited volume of sand.

"But, why didn't you use this before now?" Draco asked, pointing uncomfortably at the clone and looking between the identically blank and yet steely black-rimmed pairs of eyes, not sure which he should address.

"This is a technique for battle, not leisure." Like Gaara in the past, the sand-bunshin didn't blink all that much as it spoke, unnerving the avid listener despite his face's incredulous expression at the childish reason for Gaara's continual and apparently voluntary silence.

"So, talk…" Draco, although shocked, was still miffed at almost being strangled to death in such a muggle manner and so couldn't help but be a little short with his friend… and his friend's clone.

Gaara wasted no time in mentally commanding his sand-clone to begin telling Draco his story, and about what he had long ago accepted into his heart. He just hoped he could persuade the pureblood to change his ways without having to resort to violence, like he himself had needed.

"I used to be just like you," Gaara-clone said, instantly drawing Draco's attention at the saddened inflection the perfect copy was using. "I was so alone, and filled with hatred for everybody around me… I lived in a place where everyone loathed and despised me, and thought I was nothing more than a weapon to be used and then tossed away."

Malfoy stood slack-jawed as he listened to the familiar life story whilst the real Gaara stared at the ground, leaving his doppelganger to continue. "I killed people… so many people… and until a few months ago, I had never looked back in regret."

The unsurprising revelation that the, admittedly scary, teenager that he had slept beside for the past few weeks was a sociopathic serial-killer was just one of the many he had been gifted in the past few seconds; wherein questions he had held had been answered, but just as these answers were given, even more questions were left in their wake. This led Draco to lean forward in anticipation of the next part of the riveting story. And frankly, he had gained a little more respect and maybe even admiration for Gaara after he learnt of his sordid past. He would have thought that Dumbledore, in his supposed glory and splendour, would have stopped such a dangerous being from entering the school.

"Why… why did you kill them?" The Slytherin hadn't even noticed his words leave his mouth, but now that they had, he was desperately curious.

"To prove my existence. I was nothing more than a tool that could be disposed of at any time, so I needed to leave a bloody path of destruction to show that I had lived." There was no nostalgia or pride in Gaara's voice, only remorse as he poured his heart out. He hadn't planned to share so much with anyone in this world, much less Draco Malfoy, whom he had met less than a month ago; but Gaara knew it was a minor sacrifice if he was to save the boy from himself.

"So, why did you stop? You were right; if it proves you are worth something, then it's okay to kill a few idiots." Draco wasn't just defending Gaara now, he was defending himself and his own actions and he didn't even know it.

"Because I met someone who showed me a better path, a way to be stronger. He was just like me, he had grown up feared and despised, but he did not fill his life with that hatred. He worked to protect the people who were precious to him, even if he died. In the end, even though I was much stronger, I lost to him… At first I couldn't understand why he kept fighting… I thought I was alone, but even I had precious people. Despite everything that I had done, I had people to rely on."

"But others make you weak. Someone could take them as hostages or they could betray you..."

"Is it better to be alone?"

Draco looked thoroughly confused at this turn in the conversation, having been raised to believe the exact opposite of what he was hearing now, and the most perplexing part was that it was making perfect sense to him.

"Who told you all of this?"

Gaara paused for a moment before answering with a light smile on both sand and real faces, "A loud, blonde idiot."

"Why are you telling me these things?" Draco looked the gift-horse in the mouth and he was genuinely baffled.

"Because it is too painful to watch you suffering like you are right now. You hide behind such an angry and isolated mask and I am afraid… If you live your life behind a mask, then eventually you'll lose who you were beneath it. Like I did."

"Mask? What are you talking about?"

"Do you really agree with what the others say, with what your father tells you?" Gaara's scepticism mirrored Draco's uncertainty, as the former played on what he had gathered about the latter. Once the sand shinobi had gotten over the emotional trauma brought up by his mother's reappearance, he looked into what Draco's father's appearance meant and found some rather disturbing rumours about the man and his xenophobic beliefs, which he had probably thrust upon his son since a young age.

"That's not true! Those mud-bloods are abominations that don't deserve to use magic! They are inferior in every way to us purebloods!"

"Then, why did you have to ask if I was a pureblood? You should have been able to tell from one look."

"That's bec-"

"There is no difference, and I think you know that. An old family isn't what gives you strength. Only after you have protected someone important to you will you find real strength."

"I don't have a choice; if I don't follow tradition then my father will disown me. I'll have no one else."

"So instead you will suffer while doing what you know is wrong?"

"The Dark Lord would kill me if I became a blood-traitor like the Weasleys." Despite the obvious simultaneous confusion and revelations that were whirling around Draco's mind, his loathing of the Weasleys was still able to shine through as clear as day.

"You have to stand up for what you believe in, even if it kills you," Gaara replied, hoping that what he was saying was still getting through to the scared teenager.

As Draco's face morphed into shock, the mute of the pair decided he had said enough for the moment, and that any more would merely overload the platinum-blonde's brain. The taller of the two didn't seem to notice as the sand-clone cracked and fell apart until it was once again a pile of sand on the ground, ready to be called back into the crazy-tanuki-landlord's gourd. Gaara walked away as the sand finished floating back into its holder, praying that the weather was still warm enough to sit outside in.

Draco Malfoy stayed standing in the dark secluded corner of Hogwarts on his own for over an hour after Gaara had left to relax as his mind worked over the myriad of ideas he had been given not long ago. Eventually Draco came to the startling and damning conclusion that Gaara, for all of his eccentricities and faults, had been right: Draco didn't want to be so alone and angry all the time, not any more. He had a very difficult time ahead of him now that he was to change his life. With a great sigh, Draco couldn't help but wonder if he wouldn't have been better off ignorant of his own misdeeds… probably not.

Malfoy slumped off in the direction of his common room to sleep off the oncoming headache that was making itself known on the horizon of his mind.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara had been a very busy little bee in the past week. The off-worlder's chat with Draco had yielded the unexpected benefit of freeing his time enormously, opening up the possibility of some extracurricular research. Due to the secretive nature of Gaara's true origins, he had been unable to look into a solution to his predicament whilst he was still being followed closely by Draco, whom he'd had trouble shaking off before his talk. Recently, though, Draco had begun to change in many ways; mainly his associating with different people. No longer did he sit exclusively with the blood purists and spiteful Slytherins during meals, now Draco had taken to sitting by the moderates and rare muggle-born Slytherins. However, this change in seating was hardly volitional as, even with Draco's miraculous change in persona, eliminating his deep-seated hatred towards all but the nobles and purebloods, he still didn't particularly like the mud-bloods and blood traitors who were either ignorant of wizarding ways or were as dirt-poor as the Weasley family, and as uneducated to boot. The Malfoy heir would have been content to spend his time with his old 'friends,' even if he didn't support their extreme views or particularly like their personalities anymore, but they didn't feel quite the same way as him evidently shown by their open disgust at his apparent treachery and their shunning of him.

These hardships had produced a positive result, to Gaara's delight, as Draco was now happy to socialize with other houses; other houses meaning Ravenclaw, as the Hufflepuffs were still wimps and idiots in the newly reformed antagonist's eyes and the less said about the Gryffindors the better.

With Draco open to new people, not all of his time was spent with Gaara; though, he still spent the majority of his free time around his roommate, to said roommate's chagrin, as he had apparently struck further accord with the silent boy since he had stopped devoting his energies to hating others. It wasn't that Gaara really disliked Draco, as he wasn't one to tolerate fools, but he had desperately needed to get some time alone. With the platinum-blonde otherwise occupied for the moment, there had been nothing to stop the red-head from hiding-out in the library for the last five hours on the rainy Saturday afternoon to study.

Then again, after five hours the bookworm had found absolutely nothing on his chosen subject. He had scoured both the student and rumoured restricted sections and could not locate a single volume regarding dimensional magic or any mention of his home world. There wasn't even any reliable information about shinobi, just a similar culture in another country on this planet that barely resembled his home and was without jutsu. The only thing Gaara had been able to deduce firmly was that he was not on the same planet anymore. The Suna-nin had one hunch, and that was that he was in a parallel universe. He had noticed, almost immediately after he learned that he wasn't in his own world, that the people spoke the same language and were, for the most part, human. It would have been a little bit too coincidental if the two worlds had been so similar yet unrelated. Unfortunately, that didn't help the littlest-sand shinobi as he didn't know one space-time jutsu and hadn't signed a contract with a summon animal.

Slamming his fists down on the desk piled high with books, Gaara let out a suppressed scream of frustration, ignoring the stacks of hardbacks that fell to the floor in his fury. The ninja had known that it would take more than one day to remedy his situation, but he had expected to find something, anything on the subject that could lead him elsewhere, but it was as if wizards didn't know how to perform space-time techniques. The closest the stranded boy could find was apparition, but that was severely limited in distance and couldn't go anywhere but Earth.

Even if it took asking Dumbledore for help, Gaara would get home. But he wasn't quite so forlorn yet, as he still had a few more places to search, and he could always enlist the help of Moony and Padfoot, as long as he could stand being called by his loathed nickname for a few hours.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

A little known fact is that convicted criminals on the run hiding out in abandoned shacks don't have very much to do with their time; granted, the criminals can stare out of the window or break old furniture or, if they are lucky enough to be an unregistered animagus, go out on runs through the deserted and freezing-cold woods. But, other than that, criminals on the run have very long and unfulfilling days, unless they are fortunate and have a friend willing to send owls to them with current news and stories about how their friends are doing in school.

Sirius waited for his best friend's messages like a drowning man waited for his next breath, and when they did come he could barely keep from kissing the delivery owl on the break. In fact, there had been nasty incident a few weeks before that ended with a large cut on his lips and a decidedly put-out owl.

When the latest owl came for the dog-turned-man, he was ecstatic as he hadn't heard from Remus in over a week, which admittedly wasn't that long, but was still long enough for him to be going stir crazy from boredom. He tore the letter from the scorned owl's clutches without so much as a thank you, sorry or even a passing glance, before he sat down on one of the few chairs left in the house that could still withstand him sitting on it. Sirius ripped open the wax seal on the parchment and began to read one of the only consolations left for the lonely man.

'Padfoot,

Things have been relatively quiet here since I last owled you, but I figured you would be going insane out there by yourself. Typical; you break out of a prison where most of the inmates lose there minds, and you go mad through boredom.

Prongs Jr. has been doing well in school, and I think he might be one of my best students in the practical defence classes. He mastered the stupefy spell in one lesson. It was like watching Prongs again! I just wish his theory was as good. Maybe he could get some help from one of his friends. He's more like you in that respect.

Sadly, he seems to be down as of late. I don't know what is upsetting him, but I have tried talking to him. He didn't want to talk about it. That reminds me; I talked to Lily like you suggested. He was as shielded as always, but I did find out what his Boggart was about. I will tell you in person next time I'm able to get to you, which should probably be some time after next week. I'll probably pop in after the full moon.

On the upside, Lily seems to have had a positive effect on his friend, the one I told you about last time. The boy doesn't even seem to be going out of his way to attack Prong Jr. anymore. It's a miracle.

I think I'm rambling so I'll finish this letter now and let you get back to your busy day.

Your old friend,

Moony

P.S. I found Wormtail. He's been staying in the Gryffindor dorm rooms during the day lately. I will get him soon and then we can finish it.'

This latest communication put Sirius into a mixture of simultaneous ease and concern as he joyfully reread the part about Harry being just like his father, before looking at the disconcerting part about Lily's Boggart, considering the fate of the transformed Boggart. Not only that, Harry's depression really worried Sirius as he was the boy's godfather and should have been the one to talk to him about his troubles instead of hiding in a dilapidated shack whilst the world thought he was trying to kill the boy.

At least there was some good news in there, other than Harry's magical aptitude, that being Gaara fighting for the light. That he had managed to turn one of the staunchest and most bigoted families' heirs against the pureblood belief structure was simply amazing. Sirius had, truthfully, been very upset when he heard that his new friend had been sorted into the snake house, but now he was ready to see a whole new upside to this situation, namely Gaara changing even more minds against the evils that lead to so many wars. He'd have to congratulate Lily next time he saw him. And whilst he was there, he would have to give the tiny ninja a few lessons in spell casting if Lupin's letters regarding the boy's dangerous incompetence and ineptitude in magic were to be believed.