Harry Potter and the Magical Tours

Ma Weasley was up to make him breakfast, but Harry couldn't eat so early in the morning. He emptied his cup of tea, then hugged her before climbing the staircase once more to fetch his snake and his suitcase.

He checked one last time that everything was packed. About to grab Nagini, a sound from the door made him turn.

A sleepy Ginny in pyjamas trotted up to him. "... nice trip, Harry." She hugged him, smelling of warmth and sleep, then returned to her room.

He draped Nagini around his shoulders so she could settle herself comfortably, then he took his suitcase and headed for the door. Outside, the air was amazingly chilly, considering the heat that would come later.

In the Knight Bus, it was warmer.

London Linkport presented itself as a complex of modern buildings in light colours - actually quite flat, none of them having more than two stories. Following the signs, Harry reached the check-in counter for Far East links. He was too early and had to wait several minutes before a woman appeared to start counter service.

This woman, who wore a Magical Tours uniform, seemed still half asleep, or maybe she was nervous because of Nagini. First she made a fuss; then, when she finally had found Harry in her list, she seemed in a hurry to check him off.

With the top sheet taken off his ticket book, Harry passed the door to a waiting room and found it empty; he was the first passenger. On a desk stood thermoses with tea and coffee, piles of paper cups next to them - self-service offerings for the early traveller.

He poured himself a cup and reached for sugar. There was a noise behind him, probably indicating the next passenger -

"Master, watch out!"

Something in Nagini's voice pushed all his senses to full alert. He wheeled around; at the same time, his hand grabbed for his wand.

In the door to the link gate stood a man. Another man, closer still, had taken a step or two into the room. They looked at him, their wands were pointing in the same direction, their lips already parting.

Harry flexed his knees and ducked.

Two red flashes cut through the air and crossed at the spot where, a split second earlier, his head and chest had been. He heard a bang as from a thermos that had been sent flying.

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Two wands shot through the air on converging courses. They joined just in front of Harry. His free hand caught them, then his gaze flicked back to the two figures. The closer one was struggling to regain his balance, while the one behind was lying on the floor; the pull from the flying wand had struck him down.

"Don't move!" Harry stepped closer with his wand aimed at the man who was still upright.

Nagini's voice was in Harry's ear. "Master, he's not obedient, only surprised."

Harry stopped moving closer. "Get down - on hands and knees!"

An expressionless face stared back at him. The man stood motionless while his companion muttered in a low tone, holding a knee that had taken his full weight.

Harry tilted his wand an inch to point at the upright man's legs. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The legs flew up like an artist's for a salto. In falling, the man turned his body and used his arms to suspend the fall. A moment later, his legs followed his body to the ground.

Now Harry stood behind him. "Stay where you are - the next spell will be worse."

"How right you are."

The other man with the hurt knee presented no threat, but the jump artist still seemed totally unimpressed. As Harry was considering his next action, ready to stun the man, should he move the slightest bit, a noise from the other door made him look up.

Two men were entering the room - business travellers, by their looks. When they saw him with his wand trained at the two men lying on the floor, they stopped, their eyes widening. The one behind took a step back, turned, and hurried out through the door, while his companion just stood there, staring at Harry.

---

After what felt like only a few seconds, a woman appeared. She wore the same uniform as the counter clerk but looked older. She sent a quick glance across the room, then fixed her gaze on Harry.

"Sir," she said, "would you please put away your wand? And would you please let the two gentlemen stand up?"

"No I won't - they attacked me."

"Certainly a misunderstanding - maybe it was the snake that made them believe you were ... Please, sir, I must ask you to drop your wand."

When in doubt, ask. "Nagini - is she honest?"

"She isn't lying, Master. I feel determination, and surprise."

The looks on the other faces told Harry that his Parseltongue wasn't exactly improving the atmosphere. Meanwhile, more people entered the room; they stared at the scene, asking others what was happening here, and seemed confident in their number but anxious to keep at a distance from Harry's snake, Harry's wand, and Harry himself.

Then another man pushed his way through the crowd. He was dressed in civilian clothes and had the movements and gestures of a manager. He stopped right in front of Harry.

"Sir, please accept my apologies for this incident. An unlucky misunderstanding - obviously you've been confused with another person. Would you please follow me into my office? There we can resolve this problem - your luggage will be taken care of. Is this your suitcase, sir?"

Another office? Harry didn't like the idea, but felt it wiser to follow the man at least out of the waiting room. Walking toward the door, he found his path miraculously opening - the familiar Nagini effect.

In the hall, he stopped. "The seats over there are private enough for my taste."

"Yes, of course, Mr Potter - I understand your feelings, after this embarrassing ... Yes, we can talk here."

Harry sat down and checked the time. "What about my link? It goes in a few minutes."

"I'm sure we'll be done quickly, and you'll reach your destination in time for the connection links. We'll make sure there's no further problem, or delay." The man reached into his robe.

Such a movement would normally have been enough to bring Harry's wand out again, but jumpy though he was, the knowledge of Nagini's early-warning system calmed him.

The man, in contrast, didn't even realize how much he owed to Nagini's special abilities. He brought out a business card and offered it to Harry.

It was the first business card Harry had ever received. Well, Goblins and Giants didn't walk around with small pieces of expensively printed paper. This card said in artful print, "Bernie Bondelaw, Managing Director", under a nice emblem and the title "London Linkport".

Harry looked up. "Mr Bondelaw, if I call the Enforcement Squad now, they'll come and trash your link schedules for the next three days."

"You're completely right, Mr Potter. But as your link would be the first to be cancelled, I hope we can come to an arrangement."

Then Mr Bondelaw apologized once more, and explained, and assured, and suggested, very fluently, very eloquently. It was a beautiful torrent of words, none of them the least bit convincing.

Still, Harry had one interest in common with the managing director: he wanted to catch his link on time. He would talk with Sirius about the event, but only after his time with the Zen master. Whatever the two men had intended, Harry couldn't see any benefit of dropping his travelling plans in favour of a police inquiry.

Also, he felt at a loss to come up with the faintest idea of their motives. The only reasonable explanation he could think of was an order from Voldemort, except that such an order seemed totally unrealistic ... The only explanation still less realistic was Mr Bondelaw's version, which hinted at some recent incidents with passengers, pet animals, and over-zealous employees.

Then Mr Bondelaw came to the single meaningful item in his monologue: compensation for the trouble Harry had encountered. As a sign of goodwill, and to make sure Harry could recommend the new and promising technology of Magical Tours to his friends, and -

Checking the time again, Harry cut off the stream of words. "How competitive is this compensation, Mr Bondelaw?"

"Well, assuming you'd like to return on the same route, Mr Potter, I might think a free ticket back to London Linkport is adequate means for this unfortunate scene." There was a faint change in the manager's expression. Negotiations were his daily business, and Harry's question had told him that a satisfying agreement was within reach.

Harry had no idea what would be adequate. However, the manager's change of attitude gave him his first bearings, and a recent negotiation provided the required argument.

"I don't know yet how I'll return," he said, "or when. But I know how we can turn the attack of a passenger by two linkport employees into a pleasurable event - something that holds against rumours, even against someone like Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet."

Mr Bondelaw clearly understood, and paid Harry full attention.

"You're doing a lottery here, with your passengers. And this morning, the next ticket was due, and it so happened it was mine. When your men came along to congratulate me, I took it the wrong way, but luckily, nothing serious happened. Now, the - "

"Excellent, Mr Potter!" The manager beamed. "Brilliant, really. I must say, your quick mind is fully up to your reputation."

"Yes. The lottery premium is five hundred Galleons, and the beneficiary I specified is Miss Ginny Weasley, The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole ... As soon as I've heard from her about her new account at Gringotts, I'll stick to that version with press, police, and other people."

Hearing the sum, almost twice the fee for the return ticket, Mr Bondelaw hadn't twisted a bit, which told Harry that he should have aimed higher. Anyway - five hundred sounded nice enough.

The manager held his hand out. "Mr Potter, we have a deal. Now let me escort you to your port gate, just in case, haha ... And may I have the two wands, please?"

* * *

Five minutes later, Harry stepped out of the portkey gate in Tokyo Linkport. The link to Osaka was due in thirty minutes. He deposited his suitcase in a luggage deposit box and started toward a line of shops in the hall, but then stopped to take a minute and look around first.

Tokyo Linkport was bigger than its London counterpart. Maybe the difference wasn't as great as the proportions of Beauxbatons compared to Hogwarts, but it was enough to be noticed at a first glance. The hall was buzzing with traffic - only after a moment, Harry realized that here it was three o'clock in the afternoon. The buildings seemed older than those in London. Signs, as far they used writing rather than pictograms, gave everything twice - Kanji and Latin letters, Japanese and English. So far, he had no trouble getting along.

Examining the people passing by, Harry didn't feel like a gaijin. Thin, black-haired, and wearing glasses - this description matched every other figure. Of course, nobody else had a snake for a garment.

But then, nobody seemed to care much.

And it was true, Go sets could be found on every corner. The shop Harry entered to buy one offered only travelling sets in three versions: with holes and pins, magnetic ones, and a combination of Muggle and wizard technology, sticking to a place until a small spot on top of the stone was pressed, or until a button was pressed to release the entire board at once.

This type was more than twice as expensive as the others. Needless to say, it was Harry's choice.

The saleswoman wrapped the parcel, took his money, and chirped some words. Every other movement was a bow.

Remembering his guide, Harry bowed back. "Domo arigato ... Sayonara."

The effect was a smile, another bow, and the repetition of his words, giving him a demonstration of how to pronounce the Japanese traveller's most helpful words - thank you and goodbye.

Wandering back, Harry noticed another difference. Japanese wizards had no objections to using Muggle technology wherever suitable. His Go set was just one example out of many.

Reaching the transit lounge, he felt relieved to see other passengers already waiting. Actually, an empty corner seemed the only thing impossible to find in these buildings. Minutes later, he stepped through the portkey gate.

Osaka Linkport could have been a duplicate of the London version, in both size and age. The signs with bi-language titles represented a minority here; however, the word Fukuoka, expressed as a question, was sufficient to earn a smile, a gesture toward a gate, a brochure with the Kanji version of the name encircled, plus several bows.

Harry tried his new pronounciation, satisfied with the result.

His connection was already due. After passing the check counter, he found the other passengers busy forming a line - very much like in his own country, only with more bowing.

Bowing, he realized, formed an art of its own. The angle, the motion, individually or as part of another movement ... He remembered his tea with Cho's parents and how Mr Chang had managed a bow of only a fraction of an inch, and yet so graceful and adequate.

Fukuoka Linkport was something like the Pigwidgeon version of linkports: a tiny hall, a few doors, and two counters, English words nowhere in sight.

Was the Magical Tours service worth its name? Harry marched to the next counter and presented his ticket. "Ishida?"

He received a bow. "Yes, sir - a van cab will take you to the ferry port. It's waiting outside - this direction, sir." Another bow.

"Thank you - er, domo arigato."

A last bow.

A van cab was a kind of mini bus, offering room for ten passengers. In contrast to the Knight Bus, this was a Muggle item and therefore limited to an open lane, except that the driver seemed to think differently.

Even so, they reached the port unharmed.

* * *

There was still more than an hour's time before the ferry would put to sea, and Harry felt hungry. He found a snack bar which apparently served food from dawn till dusk, or maybe even around the clock, perhaps for the large number of fish trawlers in the port.

The titles were all Kanji. The pictures told Harry little more. Using his nose as much as his eyes, he collected an assortment of trays and cups that included tea, rice, and various types of seafood.

He had taken pains to keep his selection to stewed, baked, or smoked food, avoiding what only could be raw - well, maybe fish. Just in time, he remembered his companion.

"Nagini, do you eat raw fish?"

"I'm not sure, Master, but there's a way to find out."

The man behind the desk had listened to the exchange with great interest. Now he smiled, bowed, and rattled something.

Harry smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry - I couldn't follow."

It didn't matter. The man's excitement held all through Harry's careful selection of some raw fish, and paying at the cash register. The prices were surprisingly low - or had he received a bonus as the casual traveller with a snake?

Watched by pleased looks from the man, Harry fed Nagini first. After a few pieces, he asked, "How is it, Nagini?"

"Quite unusual, Master, although I might develop a taste for it."

With his snake fed, Harry tried his own food. It tasted good - no, it was superb, once you got used to the sharp alterations between very spicy and almost tasteless. If this snack bar could be considered as an indicator for the food in the Zen master's house, he certainly wouldn't starve.

After he'd emptied all his small cups and dishes, Harry ordered more tea. Then he opened the parcel from Tokyo Linkport to have a closer look at his new Go set. He was tentatively placing a stone when a shadow fell on the desk. A young man sat down opposite him.

"... ... Go ...?"

If Harry wasn't mistaken, his table neighbour had asked him for a game. Harry pointed first toward the clock, then toward the ferry dock. "Thirty minutes at the most ... The ferry for Iki."

The young man nodded and said something. From his gestures, Harry got the impression his game partner was bound for the same ferry. He bowed his agreement. "Hai."

The set was excellent. With the board's small dimensions, Harry found it even simpler to keep an overview than with a regular-sized one. He also realized immediately that his opponent played in another league.

He was slaughtered - eighteen points, with the effect that his opponent seemed contrite and embarrassed.

Harry smiled. "I'm sorry - I'm still a beginner."

"You - American?"

"No - English."

"Ah, so desu ka."

Had this been a name? Harry bowed. "Harry Potter."

Had not, because it came now. "Atakai Ishii."

Harry pointed at the Go set. "Your playing's far better than mine. Domo arigato."

The young man seemed uneasy, being reminded of his victory. "Potter-san, to Iki? ... Ishida?"

"Hai.

"A - visit, Potter-san?"

"Hai, Ishii-san - Matsuo Shigura."

Upon hearing the Zen master's name, Ishii's eyes widened. Then he looked grateful, probably seeing a chance to balance the on from Harry's trick of losing so disastrously. "Shigura, yes. I help you for Shigura, Potter-san."

Harry bowed. "Domo arigato, Ishii-san."

They walked to the ferry gate. With his new acquaintance, Harry's language problems were gone - Ishii knew the way, the procedure, indicated that the gate porter expected a small tip, and was familiar enough with the ferry to find the best places immediately - the aft deck, where the bridge would give protection from the strong breeze on sea.

Harry watched the scene around him, here on his first sea trip. The other passengers arrived and found seats, then the ship started to vibrate. A minute later, the vibration grew stronger, and the dock slowly fell back.

---

While the coastline faded into the horizon, Harry took in the details of this new world: the ship engine's steady beat, the sharp wind that pulled his robe as soon as he left the cover behind the bridge, the waves from the screw, the line of unruly water that marked their path, and the cloud of birds in the air, flying with the ship.

Nagini had scanned the other passengers briefly; now, her eyes were following the birds.

After a while, Harry's excitement faded. The next thirty miles wouldn't be any different. Returning to his seat, he looked at his new acquaintance. "Another game, Ishii-san?"

The Japanese nodded eagerly. "Yes, Potter-san. There is time, and I know how ..."

He couldn't find the words, but as the box came open, Harry saw at once what Ishii had in mind: with quick movements, his opponent placed eight of Harry's stones on the pre-defined positions for a beginner's handicap.

No sooner had they started playing when two passengers moved closer to watch. Looking up, Harry was greeted with bows and smiles.

The game in the snack bar had reactivated his albeit limited expertise. With the eight handicap stones up front, he was a match for Ishii. As it turned out, eight stones had been too much; Harry won by two points.

Ishii beamed. "Excerrent, Potter-san."

Harry shook his head. "I had too - " Just in time, he realized that a remark about too many handicap stones would be an insult. Most likely, Ishii had done it on purpose. So he bowed. "Domo arigato, Ishii-san."

Cleaning the board, he mused about languages and pronounciations. Japanese had trouble with the 'l's, converting them to 'r's, whereas the Chinese did just the opposite, according to Cho and her Hong Kong English.

The two spectators hadn't left. Harry lifted the box and held it in an offering gesture.

They smiled, bowed, and accepted immediately. Ishii looked very pleased - no doubt Harry had won them both some face with his offering.

Now he and Ishii were the spectators while the two men played. Even though Harry considered himself a poor judge for the finer details, the game rewarded him with a lesson in attack and counter-attack.

When the players finished, the harbour of Ishida was already close.

After the inevitable round of bows and smiles, Harry stored the set and watched the arrival until, with the last slow movement, the ferry touched the dock.

Ishii guided him through the building. Outside, the Japanese marched toward a short line of young men on bicycles, all of them with a trailer. Coming closer, Harry realized that these were rikshas, and the bicycles motorized. Ishii stepped into the first trailer - not much more than a bench on wheels - and watched as Harry entered the second riksha.

They drove along the perimeter of Ishida, toward a hill rising in the distance. A motorized riksha wasn't the most comfortable vehicle, not on these streets, and the fumes from the exhaust pipe smelled horrible.

Ishii stopped the riksha at the crest, before the road sloped down again. Too quickly for Harry to react, he paid the drivers - no doubt winning by eighteen points had to be a horrible on.

Ishii pointed to the right, where the hill climbed further up. "There," he said, and started to walk.

Glancing back, Harry saw that the first riksha driver hadn't moved. So Ishii would guide Harry to the Zen master's house and then return with that vehicle.

Harry's suitcase felt unpleasently heavy until he found the presence of mind to issue a little levitation spell. Following the steep path, he felt Nagini's weight, too, but dismissed the idea of another levitation charm.

In the wonderful evening air, the snake seemed to recover from the exhaust fumes. Harry smelled a strong scent from the trees, which he later learnt were cedars.

Close to the peak, Ishii stopped. "There, Potter-san. You go alone."

Harry bowed. "Ishii-san, your guidance was very helpful - I'll have to find a way how to balance out."

Ishii smiled. "No - we played, you lost ... and you come for the sensei."

"Domo arigato. Sayonara, Ishii-san."

"Sayonara, Potter-san." Ishii turned and walked back.

* * *

Harry followed the path, which no longer appeared as steep as it had at the beginning. He expected to find the house on top of the hill, but coming around the next turn, he saw it ahead, placed in an opening of the sparse forest.

He walked closer. Between the foundation, made of raw vulcanic stones, and the flat roof with green-lacquered tiles, the house looked to be built entirely of wood. There was no visible sign of hiding or camouflage, and still the building seemed to melt into the surrounding forest.

Harry's experience with Japanese culture had so far been brief, considering what he'd encountered on the journey and taking into account what he knew about Zen, and yet suddenly the thought of finding the house on top of the hill felt ridiculously wrong. No, it stood exactly where he should have expected.

He reached the entrance. About to take the last step, he saw the door open.

A woman stood inside. She was young, with a slender figure, fine-carved face, jet-black hair put up with some sticks, and a dark kimono - these were the impressions Harry caught in the dim light.

She wasn't blocking the entrance, but rather stood aside and looked at him in calm expectation.

He bowed. "Good evening. I am Harry Potter."

His bow was replied. "Welcome, Ha-ri, after your long journey."

He stepped in and stood waiting.

The woman closed the door. "I am Tamiko; I will assist you. Please follow me."

Her English clearly had an accent. It seemed limited as well as unused for quite some time. Each sentence was preceded by a short pause, obviously to phrase it carefully before speaking.

They reached a room. To the untrained gaijin's eye, at first sight, the room looked flat-out empty: a few mats, one thicker mat, a bench, a stool.

Soon, Harry would learn that the mats were tatamis, the thicker mat his futon, the Japanese equivalent of a bed, and cabinets were always built-in, hidden behind wooden doors. In contrast, doors to the outside or to other rooms were made of wooden frames with oiled paper as cover - shojis.

"You will refresh yourself. Afterwards, the sensei will expect you."

"Hai, Tamiko-san."

She smiled. "Only Tamiko, Ha-ri. We are not - formal in the sensei's house."

"Hai, Tamiko."

He had dropped his suitcase, and now watched with some disquiet as Tamiko opened it and started to store its contents here and there. She opened a wooden door to one of the built-in cabinets.

"Here are your clothes for this house, Ha-ri."

He inspected them - kimonos, garments of white cotton, and other unidentifiable pieces. As far as he could see, the material was either finest silk with delicate patterns, for the kimonos, or the simplest fabric and cut, white and shapeless.

He deposited Nagini on the futon. Seeing Tamiko's glance, he explained, "This is Nagini ... Sometimes, we talk to each other."

Tamiko bowed. "We have heard about Nagini. Can I do something for her, Ha-ri?"

"No, thanks, she's been fed on the road. The only thing is - if she's hissing, or if I'm doing the same, this is not ... then we talk."

Something like curiosity appeared in Tamiko's face. "Would you show me, Ha-ri?"

"Sure." He turned to Nagini. "So what's your first impression here?"

"Quietness, Master, and clarity. There is a very powerful mind pretty close."

"Yeah, that must be the Zen master." Harry turned to Tamiko. "Nagini is very satisfied with the atmosphere, and she has sensed - er, Matsuo Shigura - I mean, it must be him."

Tamiko's eyes were shining. "The sensei - we are honoured to host you, Ha-ri, and your serpent Nagini."

He bowed. "Please - what exactly is a sensei?"

Tamiko thought for a moment. "A sensei is a master, and a teacher. It's a title of honour - only an accepted student can use it. For the next weeks, you are accepted, Ha-ri, so it's appropriate for you to call him sensei."

He bowed. "Hai."

* * *

So far, he found the atmosphere in this house not quite as expected, but at the same time not unexpected. According to the traveller's guide, he should have been prepared for lots of apologies, and a constant stream of declarations of how unworthy things and conditions were. He had encountered difficulties when trying to map such behaviour to his interpretation of Zen.

And now this. He was still waiting for the first apology, or the first expression of unworthiness in the eyes of the honourable guest.

Tamiko went to the door. "Let me show you the refreshment rooms, Ha-ri."

He followed her into a large - well, bathroom was definitely the wrong term. He saw sanitary devices, yes, a shower, but the wooden bathtubs were totally unfamiliar.

Tamiko left the room.

Harry undressed, inspected the sanitary devices, and used them. There was nothing primitive or provincial. Everything in this room seemed at the top level of efficiency, without replacing genuine materials more than necessary, as could be seen with the wooden bathtubs. Well - cleaning, bathing, using water in all forms for relaxation - the guide had announced these as a very Japanese habit, and this spacious room confirmed it.

He was walking toward the shower cabin when the door opened again. Tamiko came in.

He froze.

Tamiko looked at him - in his face, and nowhere else. "Ha-ri, do you know the Japanese bathing - procedure?"

"Er - no." He didn't even have to suppress an impulse for covering himself - maybe from the shock, certainly because it would look too ridiculous.

"You will clean yourself in the shower. Then comes the hot water tub. Today, we will drop the steam room - so, next is the cold water tub ... That's it."

Tamiko smiled with some sparkle in her eyes. "You will get used to it - and to being seen naked when this is the obvious - state."

Really?

He stepped into the shower cabin and started to soap himself, still feeling shaky. Through the rippled glass, he could see her distorted shape moving around. She left the room again, but was back before he'd finished.

He opened the door. She was standing at one of the wooden tubs. Steam curled up, dissipating instantly. What could he do? He walked over.

"Be careful, Ha-ri. It's very hot ... Move slowly."

He climbed the short ladder. A second later, his embarrassment was forgotten - the task of entering this scalding water took all his attention.

He sat down on a seat inside. It was impossible - within the next five seconds -

"Do not move, Ha-ri."

He didn't - it was the only way of avoiding pain. Seconds passed, and he still sat inside. Sweat streamed over his face. At the same time, the heat was melting every tension, every knot inside his body.

Tamiko watched him, apparently until his expression told her that he'd settled to the extreme heat. Then she moved to another tub.

Harry didn't turn, didn't move a muscle. He felt drowsy and wonderfully relaxed when Tamiko's voice said, "Enough. Come out, Ha-ri."

Carefully, he stepped out.

Tamiko used a towel to wipe his sweaty face, then she led him to a padded table that was covered by a large towel. Harry stretched, face-down. A moment later, he smelled something minty, then hands started to knead his shoulders, ribs, upper arms.

He felt like wax. Those hands were remarkably strong.

After a while, the kneading stopped. Tamiko pointed to another tub. "This is the cold water, Ha-ri. I'll wait in your room." She headed toward the door.

Harry was very grateful - he no longer felt like wax, not entirely. After the door had closed, he stood up and walked to the tub, still a bit unsteady.

The cold water was yet another shock: seemingly harmless when he stepped in and sat down, moments later it felt like liquid ice. He came up, snorting and bursting, and jumped out.

Within seconds, the cold was gone. He felt great, wonderful, full of energy, his blood singing in his veins.

Waiting for him was a towel and clothes. Drying off, he inspected them - undershorts, a kimono - no shirt, nothing for the feet. When he'd put it all on, he felt surprisingly fully dressed.

In his room, he found Tamiko waiting. Seeing him, she laughed. "What I thought ... The other way around, Ha-ri."

"Huh?"

She came closer. Next moment, Harry watched in frozen horror as she undid the belt of his kimono, opened the robe, and closed it again - this time clockwise.

He learned that the garment was a yukata, and the counter-clockwise arrangement - so natural for a westerner - would be appropriate only for a corpse.

The sparkle in Tamiko's eyes faded. "Now I'll take you to the sensei, Ha-ri."

Still off balance, he asked, "What about Nagini?"

"Is she part of your wa?"

He answered without hesitation. "Yes."

"Then come with her."

* * *

Stepping into a large room, Harry saw the Zen master sitting in the lotus pose behind a low table. At the side of the table, another woman knelt. The door behind him closed; Tamiko hadn't followed.

Matsuo Shigura's hair, cut short but reaching deep down the neck, showed a lot of grey. Aside from that, it was impossible to judge the age of this motionless face. Dark eyes, sharp features, an unblinking stare - in this position, the sensei's size was difficult to guess, although his shoulders looked broad.

Harry moved closer, stopped, and bowed.

"Ha-ri - and Nagini. You have found your way over here."

"Hai, sensei."

Shigura gave a faint smile. "Place Nagini at your side, Ha-ri, and sit down. As you can see, your seat is a bit higher to help you get used to the lotus position. During the next days, it will shrink down."

Harry did as ordered.

The woman started to prepare tea. Later, Harry would learn her name was Shihiko and that she was the ruling power in the Shigura household.

When the tea was steaming in the tiny cups, and Shigura as well as Harry had taken his first sips - hot, strong, bitter - the sensei spoke again.

"Did you have trouble finding us, Ha-ri?"

"No, sensei. I met a young man, and we played Go, and I lost so much - when he heard your name, he was determined to guide me."

"What was his name?"

"Atakai Ishii."

"Yes. Your sensei at home told me about your habit of making the acquaintance of just those people who can help you."

For the first time in a span of four weeks, Harry found himself confronted with a statement that could be interpreted along the full range, from accusation, over casual remark, to praise.

Thinking about the remark, taking into account that nobody had given him more information than the name of Matsua Shigura and Ishida as the location, he came to the conclusion that this had been a first test.

"Did your journey go as expected?"

How to answer that? A yes felt as wrong as a no - soon Harry would know that this was a very simple question, compared to many others.

"I was attacked by two men ... and I got many new impressions - this is my first visit to Japan."

"These men didn't stop you, nor did the accident delay your arrival."

Harry felt grateful for every second spent with Giants and their mode of conversation. The absence of a question mark, at the end of a sentence, meant nothing. Then, probably, this was also true the other way around.

"I disarmed them. Then I agreed with a manager about a public version, in exchange for some compensation."

"So the journey has already been profitable." Shigura's tone didn't bear the slightest hint.

"The compensation goes to - er, the family I live with, a very satisfying solution. And then - " Harry stopped before getting lost in details. "Yes, sensei, the journey was profitable."

"Why did you come, Ha-ri?"

Because ... A large number of answers was spinning through Harry's mind, all of them true, none seeming adequate to this question. He took his time, aware that this was another test, and nobody expecting a quick reply.

"I have to learn, sensei ... I came to ask for your teaching."

"Why should I do that?"

Yes, why? Because he was a friend's friend's friend of Lupin, and because he'd promised to spend four weeks with Harry? Because he shared Harry's goal? Even so - what did Harry know about Shigura's conclusions?

He looked up. "I can't answer this question, sensei."

Shigura kept silent, his face still unmoving, while his eyes ... There was no doubt that Harry had found the only possible answer and passed the test.

The woman stood up and left.

"One of the goals in our training," began the Zen master, "is control over your wand, which recently has gained significantly more power - a level of control sufficient to handle it properly, while true mastery will come in time."

"Yes, sensei."

"How is your control now?"

"Not accurate - not in the finer tuning."

Shigura's arm came forward. "Then give me your wand, Ha-ri, to keep it safe until we come to this part of your training."

Harry swallowed. The previous time without his wand - with surprise, he realized that it hadn't been so long ago, although this feeling of nakedness had lasted only a day and a night, during which time Dumbledore in Harry's shape and with Harry's wand had rescued Lupin from Voldemort.

Harry reached for his wand, then bent forward to pass it into Shigura's outstretched hand.

The Zen master deposited the wand under the table. "You'll find it here."

Another remark to chew on. When would he find his wand? When it was time for this specific training? Or maybe when - for some reason - he couldn't stand the thought any longer that he was stripped of his magical power? After a moment, Harry saw still another interpretation: when one side ended his training prematurely.

Shihiko returned with a tray - food.

The table gradually filled with small bowls and cups. Harry watched as the woman prepared two dishes with rice, fish, and dressing, the first for Shigura, the second for himself. He noticed also that a bow was at least as good as a "Thank you," whether in English or Japanese.

Thankfully, his experience with chopsticks proved sufficient to eat with decency, rather than spilling rice all over the place.

Talking of decency - eating slowly was not part of good table manners, considering the speed at which the food disappeared into Shigura's mouth. On the other hand, talking with a mouthful of food wasn't done here either.

Shigura spoke between dishes, while Harry tried desperately to register the communication between the Zen master and Shihiko. Did Shigura stop talking because she passed him a refill, or did she prepare the next dish on some sign? Harry saw no sign, though realized that his western perception was too coarse by far.

"Ha-ri, did you come to learn Zen?"

Chewing, Harry nodded.

"Of course ... Certainly, Lu-pin talked to you about a Zen master, and when I agreed to see you, you expected to find someone who'll teach you Zen. Isn't that so?"

Harry nodded again.

"But it's impossible to teach Zen. You might as well say, 'Sensei, teach me shibumi' - both demands are meaningless."

And what, if you please, was shibumi? But this wasn't the time for asking questions. Harry waited for Shigura's next words.

They didn't come.

So monologues weren't the habit here, which was just fine, but it was a shame that decent amount of explanation wasn't the habit either, because you had to think all by yourself, and speak out your result, to be judged by the sensei. Well, then ...

"But isn't it possible to come closer to Zen?"

With surprise, Harry saw that the sensei could beam, and did so right now.

"This is indeed possible, Ha-ri, and this we'll do in the next four weeks. It's a desperately short period of time, and in my exchange of letters with Lu-pin, I stated more than once four weeks simply weren't enough to cover the most elementary level. But he insisted, arguing we didn't have to start at point zero. I didn't really believe him - until now."

With a hot rush of joy, Harry bowed.

"Of course I know about your goal - to destroy the Master of the Dark. If this is your ultimate goal, Ha-ri, you will fail, and we might stop right now."

"I know already, sensei - although probably not in its entirety. But since finding out that it's my destination to defeat Voldemort, I've modified this goal once already."

Seeing the sensei's expression, and realizing he might wait years before hearing something like "Go ahead" in this house, Harry explained how his goal had become inseparably linked with the obligation of returning unharmed to Cho.

"Your karma is benevolent, Ha-ri - it has gifted you with abilities together with your giri. This is a rare combination, and this is why I feel confident none of us will waste his time."

They'd finished eating. Shihiko was preparing more tea.

"What you have to achieve in your pursuit, Ha-ri, is a state of mind - and body - in which destroying your enemy is a natural result, not exactly a by-product, but not more than your genuine reaction to a problem. As challenging as it sounds, it's possible to reach such a state - with determination, although not in four weeks."

Harry smiled at this apparent joke.

"The four weeks will be hard. Your smile will be the last for a while. Only true determination will give you the strength to hold out."

"Your words will help me to withstand, sensei."

Shigura surprised Harry again, this time with a broad grin. "Flattery won't help you, Ha-ri, and you'll curse my words. You'll ask yourself, is it the true pressure of time, a stress test, a test of your determination, or simple chicanery? Only the answer will always be the same: it doesn't matter."

"Yes, sensei."

"Zen is a horizon. You come closer, no more. While basically Zen is a state of mind, there's no way of training the mind in isolation from the body, which saves us from figuring out whether such a method would be desirable. So we'll train quite different disciplines, in any mix and sequence as seems fit."

Harry made his own first try to ask without using words. He was rewarded.

"Meditation is one of the most elementary disciplines. Meditation is training as much as recovery from strenuous exercises. You'll receive tasks for your meditations - questions as well as individual terms."

Harry nodded.

"The basis of your physical training will be aikido - the art of combat without weapons, and" - Shigura smiled - "without wands. Other people measure the expertise in aikido in levels called dans, and appoint belts of different colours, while here, the resulting skill is just the counterpart of your depth in meditating, and nobody scales this in levels and dans."

So he would be able stun people without a wand - why not, might come in handy one day.

"A more advanced discipline is haragei - like many terms you'll hear today and later, it's too complex to be translated adequately, but for a start, think of it as integrated intuition. Haragei is essential when entering hostile territory - although, thinking of the two men who tried to attack you, we might find your skill in that discipline is already quite high."

"It was Nagini, sensei."

"Perhaps, but then, where's the border between you and Nagini, Ha-ri?"

Not expecting an answer, Shigura continued, "The opposite of haragei is jaho - hiding your intention in combat, and beforehand. Thinking of your enemy will play an essential role, while the four weeks ahead will only touch on the basics of this discipline."

Harry remembered the scene on board the ship, when Voldemort had disappeared without warning. Whenever he thought about his goal, this picture resurfaced in his memory: he knew, as long as he was unable to prevent something like that, he hadn't mastered the basics. And now, Shigura's words gave a first hint of the direction he had to follow.

"To keep mind and body balanced, we'll train bujutsu, the martial arts in general, and kenjutsu, the art of swordfight in particular."

Harry stared. "Swords?"

"We'll use bokken - long pieces of wood - at the beginning and for a long time. There's no other discipline to train your body as well as kenjutsu."

Long pieces of wood ... Harry smiled. "Sensei, do you know quarterstaffs?"

Shigura nodded. "Yes - the principle is the same, although bokken are flat at both ends to prevent injuries during the practice. Lu-pin told me you've seen real quarterstaff fights, Ha-ri."

"Yes, sensei - several times."

"Then I don't need to tell you that a wooden sword, call it bokken or quarterstaff, is as deadly as a katana or a wakizashi."

Seeing Harry's blank expression, Shigura added, "The long sword and the short sword of the samurai - the sword warrior. You'll see examples during your time here."

They would certainly look impressive, although right now, Harry was more eager to see a bokken.

"Other disciplines will come later. Saiminjutsu is the art of hypnosis - also something of importance with your kind of enemy, Ha-ri. It's part of a wider range of combat techniques called ninjutsu, the art of hiding and stealth. From a true samurai's perspective, ninjutsu is distasteful and a violation of bushido, the way of the warrior, but your goal is to defeat the Master of Darkness, not to become a samurai ... In these disciplines, there's no longer any distinction between body and mind, which is exactly what we have to achieve."

Harry's head was swimming. All this in four weeks? Right now, he couldn't even remember the terms.

"All these disciplines come together and sum up to zanshin - your physical constitution and your mental vigilance. This will cover the combat aspect of Zen, Ha-ri. To balance out, you'll learn to create a haiku - a verse of seventeen syllables. And of course, for recreation, we'll play Go."

Shigura watched Harry's face. "You may have questions now. Afterwards, a game will help us in learning to know each other."

---

Harry had many questions. Lleyrin the Giant chief had been an excellent teacher in the fine art of skipping stupid questions, as well as those which would be answered in time by themselves.

"Yes, sensei ... What is shibumi?"

Shigura looked pleased. Was Harry growing better in reading his face, or was his sensei switching between masks of stone and open-hearted feelings? Probably the latter.

"Shibumi is the most complex of all terms you've heard this evening, Ha-ri. One might say it's the poetry version of Zen. Shibumi is a concept of ultimate refinement, hidden within totally common appearances."

Harry thought it over. "When I first saw this house, surrounded by the trees ..." He looked up, saw the Zen master smile, and asked, "So shibumi is a horizon, too?"

"More, Ha-ri, it's a different horizon for each individual. A shogun, that is an emperor, might find shibumi in authority without inordinate ambition, or even despotism. Finding a good description for the particular shibumi of, say, a warrior, will be an excellent task of a meditation."

The Zen master waited for Harry's next question.

After some more thinking, Harry said, "There are no other really urgent questions, or ones to which I could value the answer right now, sensei."

"Then let's play a game."

Moments later, Shihiko appeared with a board and two Go-ke, containing marvellous stones of black and white.

Either Shigura was using a hidden signaling system, or Shihiko had listened outside, or she was a telepath. Thinking about this riddle, the only alternative Harry felt ready to rule out was the signaling system.

"Ha-ri, how did you play against Atakai?"

It took him a second to remember that this was Ishii's first name.

"In the first game without handicap stones, he won by eighteen points. In the second, he placed eight stones for me, and I won by two points."

Shigura placed six handicap stones for Harry.

It was the slowest game Harry had ever played. The longest, he corrected himself, realizing his impatience but unable to prevent his style from suffering. He lost by twelve points, some of them due to his haste in playing, the others because Shigura had honoured him by placing only six stones in the beginning.

Shigura said, "You might be suffering from the time difference, Ha-ri. I recommend a potion to help you find sleep."

Harry was reluctant. Starting a training seminar in clear thinking with a sleeping drug?

"It will calm down your mind, nothing else. Without this help, you'd fall asleep tomorrow in your first meditation."

"All right, then."

Shihiko had it ready. Harry drank the mixture - in the tea as it was brewed here, his untrained palate wouldn't have recognized anything. He picked up Nagini, said good night, and returned to his room.

A first test with the futon dissipated his worst worries: it felt harder than his four-poster in Hogwarts or his bed at The Burrow, but he would be able to sleep - or if not, then not because of the bed.

Then he examined the cabinet with his local clothes, trying to figure out the Japanese equivalent for pyjamas. Maybe there were none, maybe he was expected to come with his own, which he had, or maybe he was looking for the wrong format. Some kimonos - yukatas? - felt as if they might be the night versions of this all-purpose garment.

After returning from the bathroom, when opening the cover of his futon, Harry found his assumption confirmed. Somebody - most likely Tamiko - had placed a night kimono there.

Determined to adapt to this new environment as completely as possible, he removed his pyjamas and donned the kimono, remembering the clockwise arrangement. Then he laid down and waited for sleep.

It came, after a while - rather quickly, considering how short his day had been. Until then, figures seemed to parade up and down his mind in slow motion - Japanese ones in a clear majority over Chinese ones.