3/4

Already the Jinchuriki could feel the effects of his accelerated healing; making his previously dislocated arm nothing more than sore and his leg was probably well on the way to being fixed. The majority of his bruises had also faded, meaning that whilst he would not be running any marathons, the red-head would be semi-mobile with assistance.

By the time he had finished checking himself over Gaara had forgiven the sun for being so bright and was moving onto another irritant: his hunger. He had skipped several meals and when he had healing several injuries as well as his other exertions to fuel, it did tax him somewhat. Gaara would have left for the great hall for breakfast, not willing to let a broken leg and sore arm stop him from feeding himself, but he was still wearing nothing more than a hospital gown. The hungry demon host resigned himself to waiting until he could get his clothes back, or at least his school uniform.

About half an hour after Gaara's stomach had rumbled for the first time, the reformed murderer heard the same footfalls moving around outside, and the quiet clinking of thin glass not long after. The curtain was drawn back ever so quietly, presumably so as not to disturb his sleep, despite his wakened state. There stood the nurse, judging by the nurse's uniform, recognisable even to one from another world; who looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming murderous, immortal, religious zealot.

"Oh! You're awake," She stated, sounding more pleased than fearful, which was a pleasant change from all of the other times he had been visited whilst sick or injured. "Thank goodness. I suppose you're hungry, hmm?" She walked around his bedside and slowly took his wrist in her hand; she tested his pulse before walking back around the bed and checked his other arm, which was still in its sling. Gaara had once been told that he never moved when he was asleep, which wasn't that much of a surprise; what had shocked him was that the person who had watched him sleep all night had the gall to call him creepy.

Gaara nodded to the question, despite it probably being rhetorical and waited, always with the waiting, as she walked back out through the curtain and came back minutes later carrying a tray with some food on it. It was set in front of Gaara on the table that went across his lap, to which he bowed his head in silent gratitude to the food he so desperately wanted. With no further ado, the patient started to eat his food in such a reserved manner that the witch, currently drawing the curtains from around his bed, would have no clue to the enthusiasm with which he was savouring the food as he slowly fed into his mouth.

As the ninja continued to eat at his leisurely pace, Madam Pomfrey, with no other pressing matters to attend to, sat down in a chair she conjured out of thin air and waited for the boy to finish the meal he was clearly enjoying despite his neutral face. Gaara honestly found it a little unnerving the way she sat there with a serene smile on her face as he did nothing more than eat his food with the basic manners he had been given as a child. He was not used to being cared for when ill as he had been ill only once before. He had caught the flu and was bedridden for a week, in which Temari had tried to take care of him in a caring and lovingly big-sister kind of way but he had forcibly removed her out of exasperation and suffered all through that week safe in the knowledge that she would have never let him forget a moment of weakness like that. Temari was a caring and often overbearing older sister, but she was still an older sister.

The refined shinobi finished the last bite of his meal and pushed the table away from him, the wheels on the bottom of the table aiding him.

"That's better now, isn't it?" Pomfrey smiled as she pointed her wand at the tray and muttered something making it disappear with not so much as a pop. "Now, do you feel up to answering a few questions or do you want to wait until later?" She asked looking slightly more serious, almost grave in the face of interrogating one of her patients.

Gaara nodded, knowing that he could just ignore her if he didn't want to answer one of her questions. He was also grateful for her medical help and the relished food, so he watched as she cleared her throat and began.

"I tried to heal you last night when Professor Hagrid brought you in, I'm sure you guessed as much. But my spells were all blocked. None of my healing spells helped you at all. I need to know, do you have a curse on you of some kind?" Poppy finished with genuine concern, having come to that most logical conclusion the night before during the hours when she couldn't sleep no matter how hard she tried.

The mute teen hesitated for a moment, considering what to do, before he nodded his head. He agreed to the concept of a curse because admitting a demon was in him was less favourable in his experience. The whole problem with the healing spells wasn't a mystery to the intelligent teen, as he knew of at least one spiteful and just plain mean entity that would go to such lengths to just annoy him. Shukaku was still healing him at an accelerated rate, but was obviously blocking the spells from doing anything further. Oh how he despised that monster!

Pomfrey looked concerned and thoughtful for a brief moment before looking up again with an obviously forced smile to hide her growing worries about the boy in front of her. "Also, Gaara, what happened yesterday? How did you get so hurt?" This had been the second most pressing question she had wanted to ask, the rest were mere curiosity and could wait until the others arrived.

Gaara, in turn, looked thoughtful as well before turning to his gourd and waiting for the cork to pop off and sand to flow out. Instead of assuming the shapes of words above their heads like the matron had expected, the sand flew in front of Gaara and started to mould into the shape of a hippogriff, which she had been told about when the gigantic man had brought him in. The mini sand-hippogriff floated between the two occupants of the infirmary before a sand stick figure, smaller than the model magical monster, climbed onto its back. Madam Pomfrey watched on in fascination as the miniature winged creature took flight and dropped the model-Gaara from a great height.

After a few more routine checks, the nurse left Gaara on his own with promises of returning soon and that he should stay in bed.

The patient wasn't too happy about being ordered around by a civilian, but by the look on her face when she commanded him to stay put, there would be worse hell to pay if crossed her than being insubordinate to the Godaime Hokage.

So he took in his new found view of the room he was in whilst he was alone. It didn't escape his notice that sometime between when he threatened them and now the two goons had left the hospital wing. 'Good riddance,' Gaara thought.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Good Morning Poppy," Albus welcomed his resident healer into his office with a smile as he finished reading the letter he had received only minutes earlier. The guest knew to wait until Dumbledore had finished whatever he was doing before disturbing him. He was an important man and any mail he got this early in the morning was bound to be fittingly urgent, or so she reasoned. She was shocked, however, when the elderly man had finished the parchment with a serious look on his face before burning the letter and turning to her.

"What can I do for you this morning, Poppy?" The headmaster asked gaining his usual mirth by the end of his sentence to the relief of the stressed healer.

"Sir, Gaara woke up about an hour ago. You asked me to notify you."

"Ah yes, I'd almost forgot about Mister Gaara," Dumbledore lied flawlessly, having thought of little else that night. In fact, the letter that he had received was from the Ministry to notify him that no one of Gaara's description or name had ever been recorded on any documentation in the magical or in the muggle sector, ever. He had had the response owled to him overnight using his considerable influence at the Ministry of Magic. They had checked and he wasn't even under the surveillance that all underage magical children were automatically added to. This was incredibly troubling for the great wizard as it meant that he had an unknown piece on his chess board and he didn't know whether he was black or white under his coating of sand. Albus realised he had paused in his thoughts so he followed up his previous statement with an enquiry, "How is he doing today, Poppy?"

"Well, he's much better and from what I could tell he seems to be healing incredibly quickly," The nurse-witch looked happy at this revelation, having discovered that many of the injuries from the night before had lessened or in some cases disappeared. She couldn't explain how it was happening other than to dismiss it as another one of the curiosities that seemed to surround her newest patient. "I talked to him briefly and he told me he fell off of a hippogriff in mid-flight. He also told me that he couldn't be healed because he was cursed."

"Did he mention what curse?" Dumbledore was raptly paying attention, hoping to solve the puzzle that was Gaara.

"I'm afraid we didn't really talk, seeing as he's mute. But he did nod when I asked if it was a curse."

"Thank you Poppy," Albus smiled, silently processing the information for later. "Anything else?"

"No, nothing sir."

"Very well, I will accompany you to the infirmary so I can have a talk with Gaara as well." Waving his wand, the various scrolls on the ancient wooden desk started to pile themselves up or hide themselves in drawers and chests around the room as Dumbledore rose to his feet and walked behind his trusted medic to the hospital so that he might finally get some satisfactory answers.

"Oh, and Albus," Poppy said as she walked through the corridor, "I found Mister Potter and his two friends harassing Gaara in the middle of the night. Probably woke the poor boy up."

Dumbledore chuckled good naturedly at the predictable antics of the golden trio. "Not to worry Poppy, I'm sure Mister Potter and his friends were just as curious as the rest of us as to who their new classmate is."

Madam Pomfrey couldn't help but notice that, despite Albus' words, he was walking incredibly quickly towards her station of work. The nurse had a difficult time keeping up with her boss as he strode in haste, turning each corner as fast as he could. There was no real rush to get to Gaara, as far as Dumbledore knew, he just had things on his mind that were driving him to worry.

Dumbledore reached the infirmary doors a full sixty seconds before his trusted medical witch, though he decided not to announce his winning the silent foot race as it seemed a little childish, so he settled for eating another Sherbet Lemon as his prize.

Huffing, Poppy arrived to see Albus eat another sweet before she moved past him in minor annoyance at his obviously childish antics and into her infirmary. Dumbledore followed silently, sucking on his sweet treat in bliss. The old man was less than surprised to find Gaara in bed after he had been told of the seriousness of the injuries the young boy had sustained the night before; however, he would have been lying if he had claimed to have expected the short teen to be awake so soon.

"Good morning Gaara," The bearded white-haired man said merrily as he approached the silently teen who regarded him with subtle caution. The red-head returned the greeting with a nod; pretty much all he was capable of at that point considering his muted voice and unwillingness to exercise his sand abilities for such a trivial response. "I'm glad to see you're up, you had us all worried."

Gaara nodded again; a silent thanks that was just as insincere as the concern in the professor's aged voice.

"I have to get some potions from Severus. I trust you won't tire him out too much," Poppy said softly before leaving with a nod from Albus who waved her off with a smile.

"Gaara, I was hoping that we could reprise our little chat from the other day," The elderly man said as he sat down on the closest chair.

The bed-bound boy sighed silently as he readied himself for one of his least favourite games: 'Question Evasion,' the game for grumpy shinobi. Not suitable for children under the age of four. Batteries sold separately. Nonetheless, Gaara slowly nodded his head in resignation to the fact. It could have been worse; Gaara remembered his absolute least favourite game from when he was a child: 'Pin the Kunai on the Jinchuriki'.

"There have been some concerns raised regarding you, Mr. Gaara. More specifically, your past. I realise now that I may have been hasty in my admittance of you into the school considering I know next to nothing of your past." Truth be told, Albus didn't like lying, in fact, he hated lying outright but when it came to protecting the school and the magical world, he didn't have a choice.

Gaara activated his sand and let it adopt its natural ball shape in the air, ready to answer any question posed, though how they were answered was still up to him.

"Well, I suppose my first question should be: what is your surname? You never mentioned it before," Dumbledore said, listing off all of the things he wanted to know before the end of the morning.

The sand formed the words 'Sabaku no Gaara' without delay. Dumbledore made note of the unusual prefix of 'no' before the second name.

"So Gaara is your surname, and Sabaku is your first?"

*Shakes head*

"Oh, I see. You say your name backwards," Albus stated, almost surprised considering the boy was speaking perfectly fluent and unaccented English yet he had a foreign name and wrote it the other way around, surname before first.

Gaara wasn't too happy about being called backwards but ignored the distasteful comment in favour of concentrating on keeping his face empty and the ball floating, now that the words had dissolved.

"So, I think my next question would be: where are you from?"

Gaara paused for an instant, thinking of a suitable half truth to tell the intrusive person in front of him. When he had decided on the correct omissions the words appeared in the air a sentence at a time. 'I am from a desert village.'

That didn't answer his question.

"What country are you from?"

'We call it Wind Country.'

"What would foreigners call your country?"

'I don't know.'

This was tiring, as far as the questioner was considered, but that did not deter him. "How did you get here?"

'Professor Snape brought me here from Hogsmeade.'

"How did you get to Hogsmeade? There aren't any deserts near here," Dumbledore thought twice about his last statement when he recalled all of the secret places within the wizarding world, "-are there?"

'I was transported here.'

"From where?"

'My home country.'

Albus, a man renowned around the wizarding world for his patience and will power was losing this battle it seemed as he was taken around in circles. "Alright. Next, do the other people in your country have the same abilities as you?" Albus needed to know how much of a threat Gaara was and if there were others who could pose a similar threat.

As much care went into the answer as the question as Gaara tried to think of the correct answer. Either way he might be harmed. If he claimed no one else had his ability to manipulate sand, they might consider him less of a threat and attack him, but on the other hand, if he said others had the power, they might attack him from fear of his race. It was difficult, until he came up with the perfect answer. The truth.

'Our abilities vary.'

"I see. Do your people know you are here? They might be worried." Dumbledore needed this question answered more than any other as this would determine the boy's threat level besides the startling power he had shown previously.

Gaara's reaction said it all and still didn't answer the question. It chilled the headmaster down to the bone, just as it had anyone else who was to see it. Gaara smiled.

'Probably, who's to say?'

"Gaara, how exactly do you move your sand? I haven't seen you touch your wand since you entered the school, and Lupin tells me that you didn't even have one until you had been taken to Ollivander's before term started."

Gaara held back another smirk at how untrained even one so old and experienced as the principal could be, that he didn't even notice that Gaara had been fiddling with the wand under his sleeve ever since he had received it. It was nothing short of incompetence.

'I don't need a wand to move my sand.'

"That's very impressive!" Dumbledore said smiling, "I also need to ask about what Professor Trelawney said yesterday, about you."

'Sorry. I don't know anything about what she said. Do you?' Gaara was telling a half truth as he could guess about a few of the basic references within the prophecy but the overall meaning was still unclear.

Dumbledore was truly impressed at this point as he knew he was being taken for a ride by the clever boy before him. "It's sad to say that none of us knows what it meant."

"One last thing, Mister Gaara. Could you refrain from carrying your gourd with you to classes from now on? The teachers don't think it's appropriate." Dumbledore said this with a hint of apprehension, due to the question having an obvious answer that he himself knew would be negative.

'No. It protects me.' It was about the reaction Albus had expected.

"Well, this has been enlightening. Thank you very much; I'm glad we could get to know each other a little better, Gaara." Albus smiled, and the boy sitting across from him noticed the twinkle in his eye start up like a flashlight reflected back at him. Gaara suddenly got the same feeling he had gotten when the irritating hat had tried to read his mind the night before.

The old man wasn't surprised when even a well-versed Legilimens like himself couldn't penetrate the boy's mind, though he didn't put too much force behind his mental attack as he would never forget the sorting hat's reaction to whatever was inside of Gaara's mind.

'Stay out of my mind.' The sand formed these words, surprising the recipient as he had rarely, if ever, been caught snooping through someone's mind before.

"M-my apologies. It's an old habit of mine." Dumbledore stood up; hating how much his knees hurt because of the weather, and nodded his head in further insincere apology.

"I'm afraid I have to be getting back to my work now," Albus stated, standing before Gaara. "Before I go, would you like a Sherbet Lemon?" After a final head shake, Gaara was lefty alone in the infirmary again as the headmaster walked out. It was a true pleasure to be alone sometimes; Gaara couldn't help but admit this to himself as he sat back in the bed, regretting, if only slightly, that he had passed up the sweet from the professor.

Gaara sighed as he unconsciously fiddled with his wand, glad to have been left with it instead of having it confiscated like his clothes seemed to have been.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara didn't ever, in his wildest demon-fuelled nightmares, imagine that he would ever be so bored that he would fondly reminisce about the times he played 'Catch the Monster.' In his infinite and unending boredom, Gaara noticed that he had been thinking about a lot of the horrifying games he played as a child. Though, even the villagers didn't call them games, they were deadly serious in their desire to kill him. Gaara had begun calling them 'games' through his crippling loneliness and unfulfilled wishes to play or even be with others for the briefest moment. Though, that had ended when he started playing games with the villagers, inspired by 'mother.'

Still, back to the current problem, Gaara was starved for interest in the dull and empty hospital wing. It irked him, that, out of the last five days he had been in Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, supposedly a place of wonder and awe, he had spent the last four days in the hospital wing on bed rest. He had tried to leave once or twice, but even his amazing shinobi skills couldn't evade the eagle-eyed Madam Pomfrey, who, despite her age and lack of formal training, could keep up with best of shinobi.

And thus, the red-haired ninja of the sand was stuck in the most boring section of the apparently wondrous school for magicians. All visitors had been turned away, most being curious irritants called students and a few actually being concerned classmates. In a whole different category were the trio of Gryffindors who seemed determined to get the answers they craved despite the detention they had received and the hefty amount of house points they had been docked.

The only other person who had tried to visit Gaara that he knew of was Draco Malfoy. He had also been turned away as Gaara was still deemed too injured to receive visitors; no matter how much Gaara himself denied this fact. As far as the tanuki-eyed boy was concerned, if he could walk, he was healed. Real shinobi didn't complain or stay in hospital with an almost mended broken leg and now only bruised arm, they got up and fought.

The only solace Gaara had was that his clothes had been returned to him, literally as good as new, the day before. However, on strict orders of the nurse, he was to remain in his hospital gown until he was released.

On the fifth day, he had been told that he was almost ready to be discharged and that he would be allowed out on the next day, which, he noticed, happened to be a Saturday.

Later that Friday night, the first visitor was admitted to see Gaara, mostly through blackmail and threats. From what Gaara could hear, Draco had threatened to send an owl to his father and have the nurse fired. Whilst Madam Pomfrey knew that even Lucius Malfoy couldn't have her fired, nor would Albus allow her to be harmed, she did respect the fact that the usually cold and distant Malfoy, who would often show nothing but malice to those he called 'friends,' was now trying his hardest to see his newest acquaintance in their sick bed.

Poppy was not as cold-hearted as some of the others in the school, as she only saw a frail boy who had been hurt a lot in his life and needed help. That had been one of the largest reasons that she had been so insistent that the new student spend the majority of his first week in her care, as she could clearly see that not only were his unhealed injuries severe, but his previous ones were as well. He had numerous scars all over his body, not befitting a child of his age, and she couldn't stand to see him suffer anymore.

Gaara was actually pleased to see his sole peer acquaintance before him that night, having prayed to see just about anyone to alleviate his boredom, just short of Konoha's Green Beast. Draco took the chair next to Gaara's bed and moved it to the end so he could look directly at his peer, not willing to sit next to him like a commoner.

"I've tried to visit before but the stupid nurse wouldn't let me in. I swear, this is almost as bad as letting that bloody oaf teach Care of Magical Creatures," Draco said, riling himself up with just the thought. "I talked to my father and he said that he would have that idiot locked up. If he hadn't made you ride that bloody chicken, you wouldn't have fallen. And if it weren't for you, I might have lost my arm."

As much as Gaara disliked this form of communication, he decided it was necessary until he thought of a better one. The sand was already in a ball by the time Draco had noticed it was moving at all, and as he watched, the sand morphed into individual shapes, 'It wasn't his fault. Do not blame the groundskeeper.'

"What are you talking about? It was clearly his fault, by the time my fathe…" Draco trailed off, as he looked up at the new message written in sand.

'Placing blame is weak.'

Draco opened and closed his mouth in fury; being called weak was beyond ridiculous. He was the son of one of the most powerful men in the wizarding world; how could he be weak?

'The strong fight their own battles and never place blame, except with those who rightfully deserve it.'

This shut Malfoy up completely for a minute or two. Draco had never been told anything like this ever before. Sure, he had been called a wimp and a coward by Potter and his gang, but that was just them trying to insult him, wasn't it?

The inner tribulations continued until he broke his own train of thought with his latest mocking point for his nemesis. "I don't suppose you've heard, but that serial killer was spotted by Hogsmeade a few miles away," Draco began, and already Gaara was getting a bad feeling. "Yeah, Sirius Black's probably here to finish his job and kill Potter. Can't blame him."

Gaara grimaced, and almost face palmed, at the thought that Sirius had been spotted. Served him right, always going out for runs when he wasn't even hunting, it was only a matter of time.

"But that's not the weirdest thing," The Malfoy heir continued, "Crabbe and Goyle have both been avoiding me all week. Ever since they were let out of the hospital wing they've been acting terrified of me and won't come near me." If Gaara wasn't mistaken, he could swear he heard a little hurt in the platinum-blonde's voice.