It's still really just an experiment, but I was blown away by all the support! Thanks to Authoressinhiding, Jess is a pirate, Destinysway114, Little Miss Sparrow, and Garangel for the reviews!

Molly: Good for you and Shrink, and don't worry, I am still working on Hoofin' It. For the record, I did email you about that update. You just didn't receive it. Blah.

Smithy: Actually, I've never heard of such a story. Either way, thank you for the support, and I hope this fic continues to please!

Chapter One: Of Fears Unknown (Part I)

He awoke with a grunt, feeling pain shooting through his battered body, but most noticeably up his arm. He didn't question the nature of it; it was obviously another injury from the hurricane. ...Or so he assumed. But something did feel off. For one, he found himself in the middle of a very dense forest. And for two, he found himself completely naked, save for shreds of his clothes scattered about him. Moving his arm weakly within view, his eyes widened as he discovered a very ugly hole where a part of his forearm should have been. Perhaps when the mast had exploded with the lightning...but no, he could see the teeth marks...this was a bite. Must have acquired it while he was unconscious. His vision blurred and he lay his head back down in the soft pine needles on the ground, taking deep breaths, trying to stave off unconsciousness. Whatever was out there, there could well be more of. And they might come back for seconds.

As the dizziness slowly abated, he eased sorely to his knees, looking around himself. He was in the woods, so dense he could not tell whether it was night or day beyond. Yet here, it was an everlasting night. But...woods? He had been drowning at sea last he had noticed. Leaning on a nearby tree—for there were in fact quite a lot to lean on—he slowly eased himself to his feet. Judging by how the world spun, he knew he was not fit to stand...much less walk through a dense forest black as pitch and filled with 'man-eating' creatures. And thus he stumbled blindly through the trees.

Perhaps, if he could get out of the forest, he could get help and find out where he was. But he didn't see that as likely. For one, who would want to help a filthy, haggard man without garment? And that aside, he was already beginning to tire. Maybe it would be here that he would finally come to rest. He shrugged to himself. Not like anybody would ever know the difference. But some distant part of him was not quite ready to give in yet. So he trudged on.

—

Somehow, by some miracle, the trees eventually began to thin, and he collapsed, panting for breath at the edge of these accursed woods. Again the world spun, and he eased himself to the ground, taking deep breaths and trying to stay conscious. As his vision cleared, he was able to see a rather large castle in the distance, looking regal in the bright sunlight. Maybe someone was there that might help him. He slowly got up and continued, though at a snail's pace, toward the large building. He didn't get far, however, as his legs gave out beneath him. So he crawled to the nearest tree and decided maybe rest wasn't such a bad thing after all.

It was a rather large willow tree, standing tall and strong, almost defiant in the sunlight and gentle breeze. With a sigh, James submitted himself to welcome darkness.

However, he was soon shaken away. He sat up, startled, and instantly regretted it—his head throbbed painfully. What had woken his up? It was then that he noticed the ground was quaking beneath him. He saw movement out of the corner of his eyes, gaze wandering up. A large branch lashed out toward him, coming dangerously close, narrowly missing. Twisting around to see behind him, he realized that the tree itself was twisting and thrashing. The thing was animatedly alive! Its branches were waving wildly, whipping about in all directions. Something told him it did not appreciate being slept on. "Please," he found himself saying, "please, I need help."

Pull yourself together, James, reasoned his sanity, you're talking to a tree.

I know, I know...but something tells me that's what needs to be done.

It's a tree. T-r-e-e. Talking to it would be like talking to Sparrow; you'll never get through to it.

I haven't much choice else.

"I need help," he repeated more softly. "Please...don't hurt me..."

Oddly enough, the tree's movements ceased, and the whole thing leaned over him. He felt braided branches gently caress his back, stopping his startled tremors, before wrapping around him and lifting him into the air. He blanched at the sudden motion, and again the world spun. Or wait, that was the tree spinning, not the world. The monstrous willow was twisting its trunk, a loud, creaking, wooden groan ensuing. It carried a ways, and sounded much like a roar. He heard a distant yell, and after several agonizingly slow minutes passed, a figure came into view. A very large figure. However, too exhausted to care what was currently happening, he did not get a very good look at said large figure. In fact, even as he felt himself descending, he was drifting out of consciousness.

The other figure approached the Whomping Willow cautiously. He had heard it yell before, and it was only in the times of emergency. However, never had Rubeus Hagrid seen it do something like this. It was gently setting down a bundle wrapped in its leaves and branches. Slowly, it delicately removed its limbs from the limp form, and the groundskeeper gasped to see it was a man lying prone in its shadow. He was about to rush forward when he recalled the violent ways of the tree and took a cautious step forward. A thin, whip-like branch shot out toward him, and he reached for his umbrella for protection, only to find that he had left it in his hut in his hurry to come see what was wrong. The irony. He readied himself to dodge, but it was a meaningless effort, for the branch snaked past him, behind him, and gave him a shove from the back toward the unconscious man. "Good, good..." he mumbled, nodding at the tree and approaching the man. Upon closer inspection, he found that, not only was the stranger naked, but was also injured. He removed his immense coat and carefully wrapped the being in it before hefting him over his shoulder and heading off toward the castle. "Straight to th' Hospital Wing with yer. Then it's off ter Dumbledore's office."

—

"Dumbledore!" cried Hagrid, bursting into the Headmaster's office without bothering to knock.

"Please, Hagrid, no need to shout," replied said Headmaster, a tall, thin, old-appearing man dressed in such robes, with long white hair and a beard to match. "I was just sitting down to some tea," he continued calmly. "Care to join me?"

Hagrid took a breath and sat obediently. "Yessir." Dumbledore filled both their cups and they sat in silence, sipping at their tea.

"Now," said Albus, when it appeared that his groundskeeper and friend had calmed, "what is it that you needed to tell me?"

"There was a man in the Whomping Willow. But it wasn't hurting him, and I can't figure out why."

"Where is this man now?"

"I took 'im to th' hospital wing, sir. He was right banged up."

"Has he said anything?"

"No sir, he was unconscious when I found 'im."

Dumbledore sipped at his tea thoughtfully. "I don't suppose you'd fancy an orange-marmalade piece of toast?" he asked, gesturing toward a plate of such.

"No, sir."

"I thought not. Never was a fan of the marmalade myself. I would prefer a good bit of raspberry jam to go with my bread, but it was a gift from Mrs. Weasley. Thoughtful woman."

"Yessir. She's a right sweet."

"Take me to him."

"Yessir, right this way." The two set aside their tea and set off toward the hospital wing.

—

"'E's back there, behind the curtain."

"Good, good. It looks as if everything is in order. I see no reason for his presence to be revealed to the students."

Madam Pomfrey strode up to them. "I assume you're here to see the boy."

"Yes, may we?"

"Yes, yes, of course. But do not disturb him, he is resting."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey." Dumbledore led the way to the corner of the infirmary. He pulled back the curtain far enough for he and Hagrid to see, while close enough that no one else would be able to see. It revealed a man lying asleep, unclothed but for the light sheets that covered him. He would have looked very young were it not for the deep tear tracks that ran from his eyes. Dark lashes rested lightly against fair skin, and short, brown hair stood at all angles, tousled and unkempt. His face was taut with a troubled expression, and the dark eyebrows bunched together. "How was he when you found him?"

"About the same, Dumbledore. He was jus' driftin' off when the tree set him down. Never seen the Willow act like that..." and he went on to recount the actions of the Whomping Willow.

"Ah. He must have made some sort of connection with it." Hagrid looked at him confusedly. "I've heard it can be done." Hagrid raised his eyebrows and shrugged, before the two turned back to the stranger. "What's this on his arm?" Albus gestured to the bandages.

"A pretty deep injury, from the looks of it."

"Do you have any idea what it was from?"

"Please..." came an unfamiliar voice. The two wizards whipped their heads up to see their patient, eyes still firmly shut, speaking. "I didn't mean it...didn'..."

"Young man," began Dumbledore. Hagrid gave him a sideward glance. The man's definition of 'young' was definitely different from his own, "Do you—?"

"No...I didn't mean to do it—Please, Majesty, understand!"

Majesty? "Can you tell me your name, sir?"

"It was an accident, please, I didn't mean to do it!"

Dumbledore understood it was a fruitless effort, and was content to watch the man writhe under his sheets, cheeks stained with tears, expression turning to fear. It was then that he loosed a scream of agony, loud and long. Madam Pomfrey rushed over. "What's all this, I thought I asked you not to disturb him—he's upsetting the other patients!"

"He's feverish, Madam."

"Then a quick—." She paused with a wince as his cry finally came to an end, small whimpers and pleas spilling from his mouth, and lowered her voice. "Then a quick paralysis jinx should keep him from hurting himself while I give him something to counteract his illness, sir."

"Yes, yes. Petrificus totalis," Dumbledore pronounced with a wave of his wand. The man fell silent, unable to move as his legs snapped together and his arms snapped to his sides. The Healer picked up a jar from the medicine cart and measured out the appropriate amount before using a counter-jinx to ease his mouth open and pour the medicine in. His throat muscles worked automatically, unconsciously swallowing to keep him from choking. Moments later, his expression became placid and relaxed. The headmaster removed the jinx then and allowed the Healer to continue in her care for him. Thanking her for taking the time to heal this stranger, he and Hagrid turned away. "We will find out who he is when he is well enough to answer. Until then, all we can do is wait."

"Yessir."

A/N Chapters may be subject to shortness. Please Review.

P.S. If there are a bunch of random rulers on this chapter, I blame ffnet for being a butt.