Mustafa gave a fleeting smile at Harry as he left the hidden alley.

"Sir, may I cast the spell upon myself once more? I feel uncomfortable not knowing what you say to one another," Harry said tentatively, playing nervously with his fingers.

"No Mr. Potter, it would do you ill to not understand our language and consort to a spell," he said amused. "About murdering... Why do you believe that?

"Sir, I believe I could have done something else. Of course, I was also afraid that he would be too manipulativd and he would end up killing everyone I love... I just feel that things could have been different," Harry said softly, his words drifting off his tongue as his thoughts ventured to the body of Voldemort crashing to the ground.

"What if your father killed Voldemort when he attempted to kill you? Would you label your father a murderer?"

"Of course not, he died protecting us. He would have killed in defence!" Harry said with indignation.

The old man gave a small smile, "And you killed for sport did you?"

"No, no... I am sorry sir. I have been a tad bit misguided."

I am such a fool. I shouldn't have come at all!

"You are young and far too innocent a pawn in the hands of the overbearing power."

"I am sorry sir," Harry said dejectedly. Thats it, he will not accept me.

"However," Harry held on to the sliver of hope that he was holding on to, "I shall take you in as my student and acolyte Harry "

Harry's face lit up in happiness and euphoria.

"You may now enter my humble abode, Harry. Ahlan wasahlan," the man ushered Harry in front of a wall and tapped the bricks on the wall with his finger. The bricks slid past one and the other finally opening up to a beautiful and cavernous foyer.

"Wow!" Harry breathed.

"Harry," Mustafa said meekly, holding a tray of tea and a few baked flatbreads topped with honey and onion seeds.

"Thank you," Harry said, taking the tray from the scrawny boy.

Harry nibbled on the sweet bread, savouring the sweet dripping honey as it rolled across his tongue punctuated by the crunchy onion seeds.

"Sir, what is your name?"

"Finally realised, did you?" he chuckled, "My name is Khadir, but you may call me saheb or janab. I am not much for first name basis as the Western world tends to be."

"Is saheb or Janab an honorary title as sir?"

He smiled, "Yes, and its good that you are trying to learn, as I shall not allow you to cast that spell upon yourself anymore. Janab means teacher, while saheb means sir. However, Arabic tends to go deeper with words than English has ever done."

"Yes, Janab."

"In two weeks time, I hope you may be able to string a few simple sentences in Arabic. Mustafa shall teach you more of that. Another thing you should know is, your wand shall be destroyed tomorrow. You shall master wandless magic, and I would rather the wand does not tempt you to throw my tutelage to the winds, is that clear?"

"Er.. I have yet to make my abode sir.. I mean Janab. I was hoping to finish it in a week, and I can't perform magic without it."

"Where do you stay? Mustafa shall accompany you if you may need help."

"Socotra, Janab."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Don't tell me you are living near any Dragonblood trees."

"Er... Y- yes, " Harry said meekly.

"Dragonblood trees are dangerous to wizards. You probably got muddled and confused. The only way to get over the drowsy affects is to drink the blood like sap in the trunk of the tree stirred thrice in the milk of a camel with two humps, thrice daily for two weeks. Thankfully, we are both immune to it now, we are willing to help you. I suppose I may have to teach you over there instead, and magic would be a folly attempt as you rampage around like a drunkard fool. So... Arabic it is."

"Is Arabic magic different?"

"Magic is the control of elements and the twisting of their natures. It is created by the nature of the caster. Arabs are more prone to fire magic, while Europeans use Earth and Water magics. So, yes, we do have different magical signatures to yours and your people."

"Professor Snape?"

"His power was on the mind magics, the mind magics comprise of all elemental magics. It is the most powerful. He had mastered more fire magic than the others though."

"Do you use words like we do?"

"Words, not at all. The Arabic language is strung with emotional language. We will our emotions to form what we want. I believe you term such people as... Empaths?"

Harry screwed his face in thought, "Aren't empaths the best at all magics?" he finally murmered, recalling Professor McGonaggal's long lectures on non verbal magic.

Khadir smirked, "To any human, the unknown is a mystical and powerful creature. Such is the same for our magic. It is different, but no stronger than the will we put to it. Much like the patronus you cast in your third year at that awfully biased school."

"How did you know? Why is Hogwarts biased."

"Severus told me. As for Hogwarts, it is biased towards those of cultures apart from their own. Racial discrimination is not a part of the muggle world itself, we are all humans after all. Had you asked the Patil twins they would have told you, unlike Whites, those of mixed races have to ask and beg to get a place in Hogwarts. The government has always believed in making the racially different go to their own schools at their own respective ancestral countries."

"I never knew," Harry saod guiltily.

"There is much you do not know Harry. Now, I believe we have a lot on our hands, will you please consent to apparate us there?"

"Indeed sir," Harry said giving his hand to both Mustafa and Khadir.

"Hajir," he said clearly before spinning on his spot, oblivious to the frightened and hollow faces of his teacher and fellow acolyte.