The Legend of Harry Potter

# Japan #

by: Tommy Andrè Lillehauge

a.k.a.

Shadow101

NB! This is the updated version of this chapter, meaning that if you've read it before, you should read it again.

The trees standing in the park wallowed in the wind, while a bunch of kids were playing tag below them. Dogs were being walked by their owners, and a few squirrels were collecting nuts that an old couple was throwing at them.

At the same time, a fifteen-year-old boy was walking through the park, a smile clearly plastered at his face. Harry Potter was free.

Not free, like being away from the Dursley's. Oh no. He was free from the world. Free from everyone that he knew. Free from his responsibilities. Free from the wizarding world.

Harry Potter had had enough. He was tired of the way people tried to control and manipulate his life. He had taken out all of his money in his trust fund, which was almost one million pounds, and had ordered a ticked to Japan. Yes, Japan, one of his more brilliant ideas. Any other place would be too obvious. The first place they would probably search when they found out he was gone, would be Europe and America.

Of course, the fact that Japan had no known wizarding schools helped a lot.

While he'd been at Gringotts, he had also found out about his family vault. Not that he could do anything with it before he was seventeen, when he came of age, but still, finding out that everyone had hid it from him, especially Dumbledore, only strengthened his resolve to leave the country and the war. He knew though, that the war would never really be over before he himself had killed Voldemort, Britain's infamous Dark Lord.

Like if a fifteen-year-old boy could kill him. The wizarding world was nuts. So he did the next best thing. By leaving the country he was not only making his 'friends' safer, he was also getting a chance to grow up and mature before he had to be thrown head first into a war he could do nothing in… at least not before he came head-to-head with Voldemort. This way the wizarding world could take care of the Death Eaters and weaken Voldemort, and he could finish him off.

It had only been five days since he came home from Hogwarts, and he had already received two letters, each, from Ron and Hermione, telling him not to blame himself for Sirius death, and to stay put inside the house so he could stay safe. That, and the fact that they were now an item.

He was happy for them, really, he was. There had been a betting pool in the Gryffindor common room for almost a year already, about when they would get together. Still, he knew that he would be a third wheel when they met again. What irritated him about the letter though, was how they kept telling him Sirius' death was not is fault. Of course it wasn't! He didn't send that damn curse at him, which threw him through the veil. Oh no, that was Bellatrix, on orders from Voldemort.

Surprisingly, it was his Aunt Petunia he could thank for giving him that thought. After talking in his sleep, (more like shouting) about how Sirius' death was his fault, she had slapped him across the cheek, and told him quite clearly "It's called survivors guilt! Grieve and get over it!"

She was right though. Every being on earth is responsible for their own actions, unless under imperious of course. He was only responsible for making the choice of saving Sirius, even if it was a trap. Sirius was responsible for doing the same thing for him. The only difference was that he died. He would have been a hypocrite if he had blamed himself and not Sirius.

"Where are you going, son?" The American accent of one of the taxi drivers shook him out of his thoughts. "Airport." The simple answer was enough for the driver, and after helping him with his trunk, aimed for the airport.

The airport was big… almost too big. He had used fifteen minutes just to find the gateway leading to his plane. After entering the plane, having showed the lady in the entrance his ticket, he took his seat, a window seat, while placing his plastic bag below his legs, having left his trunk along with the rest of the passengers' luggage.

"Five minutes until takeoff!" The voice at the intercom said, the male voice carrying it through the plane.

Fastening his belt, he bent down to his plastic bag, picking up one of his books. The Order had sent him his sixth year books already, at Alastor Moody's insistence, and he had received a few books from Moody himself along with them. Dumbledore had forbidden the old auror from sending him any duelling and/or auror books though. Probably to try and stop him from becoming independent, and had probably thought that the "magical theory" books wouldn't harm. He could never have been more wrong. The books gave him the exact information on why, and how, the underage restrictions worked… Moody had even marked the page! Knowing all this, made it easy for Harry to do magic without the ministry's interference. It was all about controlling your aura. While using magic, accidental or with a wand, your aura always flared up, sending a magical "signal" that the ministry could sense, and even find out what spell you used. It had taken him two days to learn to control his aura. It wasn't hard, not really. You had to meditate for a while, until you sensed your own magical core, and then make a shield of sorts, almost like Occlumancy, to keep your magic inside of you. An aura was magic leaking out of your body, which he now knew was what Dumbledore did when he wanted to make people believe him powerful. He simply controlled his aura, sending out a lot of 'leaked' magic. He also found out that at the end of seventh year, people had learned enough not to send out "leaking" magic all the time, and that the magic had developed too much for the ministry to track them. That explained seventeen as 'coming of age.'

Having made sure that the theory book didn't have any magical pictures, and that the cover of the book was hidden from sight, Harry used the rest of the trip reading. He knew just by reading this book that his control over spells had increased. Moody even wrote to him that that might happen. Funny thing was, this book was not even given to aurors. Most people never even looked at it, including Dumbledore. Apparently, the author of the book said it all.

'Aberforth Dumbledore,' the Headmasters brother, and bartender at Hog's Head. Deemed crazy by the wizarding society.

Japan was a beautiful country. After leaving the airport, he had used a couple of hours exploring the town, before finding a small nice hotel. The town was a mix between modern buildings, and buildings that seemed modern in he 16th century. Of course, they didn't have electricity in the 16th century.

His room had a small double bed in the middle, along with a desk against the left wall and a small, but elegant, bathroom at the right. It was more then enough for now, until he managed to find himself a place he could call his own, and of course, a job.

He spent the first day in his room, with the exception of going down to dinner, where he got his first experience with Japanese food. (He was never going to have anything with the name 'Fugi' again, after finding out a simple mistake while making it could kill you.)

The Japanese, while certainly not an expert on the English language, were extremely nice to him, and seemed to have fun trying to guess what Harry's words meant. They all had a big laugh at Harry when he tried to find out where the bathroom was, almost having walked into the kitchen. They had also taught him the words for "thank you."

"Excuse me?" Harry's voice made the old lady behind the desk turn. He was in a small shop, where books seemed to be the only thing adorning the walls. He had been looking for a job now for a few days, though he hadn't been able to find one yet.

"English?" The old lady's voice seemed broken and unsure, as if she didn't speak English often, which she probably didn't.

Harry nodded. "Yes. I was wondering if you knew where I could find myself a job?"

She seemed to think over his words, probably trying to decipher what he said. "Need job?" She repeated. At Harry's nod, she pointed over the street, to an old building. The glass was too dark to see through, so he didn't know what kind of shop it was, but he nodded politely to the old lady, and gave her a small bow in return, before thanking her in her own language. The old lady seemed to smile at that, even if it was hard to see behind her wrinkled face, and turned back to whatever she was doing.

Harry, knowing the conversation was over, turned and walked out of the shop.

The shop with the dark windows smelled, for a lack of better words, old. It didn't seem like a shop from the outside though. In fact, it looked like an old abandoned building. Inside, however, was a completely different matter. The walls were filled with swords, axes, spears and staffs. In the middle of the floor was several racks with clothing, which he had only seen those martial artists on TV use. In the end of the room was the desk, which was unoccupied right now. To the left from the desk were a couple of glass cabinets, filled with all kinds of jewellery, and to the right, a small wall dedicated only to books.

Walking carefully into the shop while looking around, he began to wonder where the shopkeeper was. This was the kind of shop any shoplifter would dream to rob, even just to get one of the beautiful swords adorning the left wall. By walking closer to where the books where, he could see that they were all some kind of information on martial arts, sword fighting, meditating, etc… While Harry was interested in the books that was not what he came here for. Looking for the shopkeeper he turned around, and came face-to-face with an old man, wearing a small smile.

"Æeeh!" the man scared Harry enough to make him stumbling back into a rack of clothing, dragging it with him down to the floor.

"Eh.. sorry, eh.. you just kinda.. scared me." Harry's stuttering seemed to make the man crack a bigger grin. "British, eh? Been a while since I've seen one of you." The old man, while carrying a Japanese look, seemed pretty familiar with the language. "And no worries. Scaring you were my intention… you did jump pretty high, though." The man chuckled to himself while walking back to the desk. "Now, what can I help you with, young man?" The old mans curious eyes seemed to drag Harry out of his thoughts. After helping himself up from the floor, and putting the rack of clothing back in place, he turned to the shopkeeper again.

"Eh, I was looking for a job really. The old lady across the street pointed at this building when I asked." Harry said, his voice unsure after the strange meeting between the two of them.

"A British wizard! Haven't met any you since the war with that dark lord of yours, Grindelwald. Almost fifty years, I think." Seeing Harry's shocked look, he asked; "You are a wizard right!" At Harry's weak nod, he continued. "Well, it's been a pretty slow business so far... The summer is usually like that. Hmm… might need some help smiting, though…"

"Eh, sorry for interrupting, but how did you know I was a wizard?" said Harry confused.

"You don't know? Old Jhalia over the street, the woman that sent you here, have sold magic books since sometime around the 18th century. You can't enter her shop without being magical." The old man could see understanding dawning on the young boy's face, and continued. "So, do you want the job? It'll be hard, but worth it! If you get good enough, I'll even let you make your own weapon. So, what do you say?"

Harry really didn't need that much time to think it over. He had been to almost every shop in the area, and not a single one needed his help. Might have something to do with him not being able to communicate with some them too, as not many of them seemed to know how to speak English. Besides, learning how to make weapons seemed like a nice idea. The fact that the man knew about the wizarding world, maybe even being a wizard himself, made the idea more comfortable.

"Okay, I'll take it. Don't know much about it though." Harry's words seemed to make the old mans face light up. "No worries lad. I've dreamed about carrying on the legacy of smiting for a long time, and the only one with potential in my family, my granddaughter, is not really fond of it. It'll be nice having an apprentice for once." Beckoning Harry into the backroom, he showed him where he was going to work. "My name is Takanima, by the way. No need to tell me your name, or why you're here… not really hard to guess now when I saw that scar of yours.

Pulling away a curtain leading into the next room, he said; "Welcome, Mister Potter, to the ancient art of smithing!"

Harry was going to regret not having more muscles before travelling to Japan… though that problem would be 'easily' fixed.

# Hope you liked it guys… I'm Norwegian, so my English is not among the best. If someone want to beta-read it though, they are more than welcome. In that case, contact me at shadow10start.no