Blue flame of the east, Red flame of the west

In this fic every bloody detail is important. You're forewarned. If you have any questions or complaints regarding the information in this fic, e-mail me.

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Chapter 10: A Prelude to a Storm

After the effects of the shock she got from the first lesson of foreign magic studies wear off, Hermione started study like it was her only way of survival. Harry couldn't imagine what Hermione would study about. He certainly had no idea what to do. Not without Jiho anyway.

Thinking he should meet Ryo privately for advice, Harry got up 6 in the morning and headed towards the TAs office. Ryo was a morning person who always woke up 4 in the morning. To do what, Harry never knew; an ordinary mortal like himself was too busy snoring in his bed at that time. As expected, Ryo was wide awake and sitting before the Buddha.

Back at the Kuze house, Ryo always sat before the Buddha in the evenings. Sometimes he would sit before the Buddha in hours on end with his eyes closed, not even moving a finger. Harry always wondered why Ryo did that.

"Hello Xiu. Good to see you again," said Ryo when he opened his eyes.

"Hello Ryo. Sorry for interrupting your meditation," said Harry.

"You need not to. I must apologize to you for ignoring your presence for a VERY long time," replied Ryo.

Harry smiled. He liked Ryo making such surprising and slightly humorous comments.

"So, how is it you never told me you were a Wizard Xiu? A famous one at that," said Ryo with a slight smirk on his face.

Harry groaned. Someone must have told Ryo about 'The Boy Who Lived' business. Ryo looked at Harry and smiled.

"Dare say you thought you could not tell me. In your place I would have done the same. Good thing too; I do not want to know what Nakajawa would have done if he found out."

Harry nodded his head fervently.

"So, why did you come to the TA's office this early in the morning? You will not need any help on foreign magic studies before the third lesson."

"I just came here to ask for some advice on how to prepare for it," said Harry.

"Then I advise you to do nothing," said Ryo. He refused to elaborate.

They sat in silence for a while.

"Umm, Ryo?" said Harry.

"Yes?"

"Is Jiho a … Native American sorcerer?"

Ryo turned thoughtful at that question.

"I am not sure. His mother was the daughter of the medicine man and diviner of a Hopi sub-tribe, and this man apparently had healing hands. Hands that can heal almost any kind of physical suffering," explained Ryo, looking at Harry's blank face.

"As far as I know, his mother did not inherit this ability from her father. My Uncle --- he was Jiho's father --- was an ordinary man in terms of supernatural powers. But it is possible Jiho got healing hands from his grandfather."

"I was hoping I'd meet him again," said Harry with a sigh. He really missed Jiho.

"You might meet him sooner then you think," said Ryo with an enigmatic smile. He refused to elaborate on that as well.

"Why do you always sit before the Buddha?" asked Harry at last.

Ryo just looked at him with a smirk on his face.

Harry let out a sigh. Trying to get answers from Ryo was frustrating enough to drive a Saint to profanity. Ryo started chuckling as he pulled out a very old and frayed book.

"Here; this is a book about Buddhism and prayer. Find it out on your own."

Then Ryo resumed sitting before the Buddha, completely ignoring Harry again. Harry stared at the book, at Ryo, then back again. He let out another sigh and left the room.

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The Gryffindors had their first DADA class with the real (hopefully) Moody that day. Harry didn't know what to expect. When Moody came clunking in the classroom, Harry took a sharp intake of breath. What will Moody do? Moody took his seat on the teachers table, and stared deliberately at very one with both eyes.

"Many of you," growled Moody "might wonder what to expect from me. You had an impostor good enough to fool Dumbledore teaching you last year.

"Now, I promised Dumbledore I'd teach you lot for a year only. But things got screwed up from the start, and didn't end nicely either. So I'm staying till I think all of you are adequately trained. Luckily I've got Professor Wu and his TAs to help me on the way ---"

There was a silent, but unmistakable groan/sigh from the students.

"Judging from the looks on your faces, they're tough. That's good. That's exactly what I'm looking for. TOUGH AND STRONG FIGHTERS!" bellowed Moody.

"To the point: You'll be taking O.W.L.s this year. Usually O.W.L.s are mostly theory and memorization; not much actual casting and hands-on-defense so to speak. BUT I'm not planning to drill you to memorize things --- that's you job. I'll be giving you outlines, yeah, but drilling isn't my job. I'll be teaching you THINGS THAT YOU CAN USE.

"How many of you looked at the O.W.L. book before term?" barked Moody.

A few timid hands rose up.

"Did you see the DADA part?" growled Moody.

There were some very timid nods.

"As you might have noticed, most of it is memorization. With a good book, even a Muggle can pass an OWL exam. BUT DOES THIS MEAN A MUGGLE CAN ACTUALLY DEFEND HIS/HERSELF FROM THE DARK ARTS?!" bellowed Moody, making everyone jump.

"Granted they can't perform the spells required, but more likely the Muggle victim will be too petrified to do anything when they meet, say, a boggart. They wouldn't know that a boggart actually existed, unless the Ministry of Magic is doing a blob of a job again …" said Moody, scowling.

"Anyway, most likely the muggle didn't expect to be attacked by the Dark Arts. He/She was caught by surprise. Surprise: that's the key word --- caught unawares; unexpected.

"This is one of the things you're going to learn: Zenshin. The word is Japanese, and the concept is Asian, and the Asians perfected it to an art. Zenshin means to have constant awareness of potential danger; your heart, mind, body and soul always prepared for battle always.

"It has nothing to do with being paranoid of attacks," continued Moody. "Zenshin requires you to be prepared always. If you embody zenshin, you won't let yourself caught unawares. You won't fall on false trails because you were unaware and not alert. You'll know what to expect if a situation beyond your control befalls you. Bottom line: YOU'RE LEARNING THE FIGHTING SPIRIT!!

"Like Professor Wu, I want to see hard work. I want to see you working yourselves to the limit to achieve zenshin. Only then can you have some hope of getting it. Some of you might have more innate fighter spirit then the rest. It doesn't matter how much you perfect zenshin, what matters is whether or not you try to embody zenshin in your being. THERE IS NO EXCUSES FOR NOT TRYING!!" bellowed Moody harshly, making everyone cringe with fright.

"Now the second part is team work. You can't face evil alone. There is no such thing as a lone warrior. No matter how brilliant you are, there some things you JUST WON'T KNOW. People other then you might have the answers. There are limits --- yes LIMITS --- to how far a human can push oneself: either the physical or mental. You can keep yourself within those limits to some degree, but you need the support of others. There are different types if support: support that most of us consider as support and support that doesn't look like support at all. A battle is fought and won by THE COMBINED EFFORT OF MANY. THAT is what you will be learning this year: TO LEARN HOW TO FIGHT EVIL AS A TEAM!"

Mood went through a very comprehensive lecture on zenshin: its aspects, training and uses. He was telling them an anecdote about a certain samurai who could ward off and attack while he was sleeping, when he suddenly pulled out his wand in a blink of an eye and cast a hex at the general direction of Harry. Harry instinctively jumped out of his chair with his wand ready. He turned around and saw the wall directly behind his seat had a black hole that was smoking.

"A practical demonstration of zenshin," said Moody, nodding at Harry with approval. "Zenshin requires instincts and reflexes. You'll have to work on that!"

Moody wanted them to show up every morning at 7 on the grounds to do running and push-ups. Everyone groaned, but knew better then to voice their complaints.

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Professor Wu's 'tests' were more bewildering and creative that day: Just for starters, Ryo challenged Ron to a chess match, and AanJi fought a duel with Harry. The Chess match between Ron and Ryo was quite interesting. Ryo was obviously an incredible chess player himself; for once Ron seemed to be thoroughly challenged. After a half an hour long game, Ryo finally beat the crap out of Ron's last knight and checkmated him with his queen. Ron was too mentally exhausted to accept Ryo's compliment.

The duel between AanJi and Harry was a sight to see. They fought in the Great Hall and in no time at all, they created quite a mess. AanJi first blasted Harry with a gust of wind, sending him flying. Harry shot a jelly-legs jinx at AanJi before he hit the wall. AanJi was about to wobble around the floor when he made some odd hand gestures and it stopped. Harry took the offense and cast the stunning spell on AanJi. He dodged it easily and made a punching gesture 10 feet away from Harry. Harry instinctively got out of the way as an invisible something blasted from AanJi's fist, ripped through the air like a missile, and hit the wall. It left a dent. Harry then cast the leg-locker curse on AanJi, but he dodged that as well. AanJi then pelted multiple missile punches, and Harry was too busy dodging the punches to cast anything. Finally Harry changed his tactics and approached AanJi till he was almost in point blank range. He then blasted AanJi with the stunning spell but got punched in the stomach. Harry flew 10 feet away and crashed on the floor. AanJi was unaffected; he calmly took his wand out of his hand. Harry was too winded to fight back. When he finally got up, he saw the Great Hall's walls were covered with dents and cracks. Harry wondered wildly what Filch will say about it.

"That was excellent Potter," said AanJi after the duel, looking exhilarated. Harry simply wheezed as a response. He was shocked to find out the duel only lasted 5 minutes. Hermione was too nerved shattered to move or talk after the duel, so he and Ron had to drag her back to the Gryffindor tower again.

"AanJi is crazy," declared Harry, dropping into an armchair. "Those punches could've killed me."

"Ryo is monster," declared Ron. His hair looked like he was hit by lightning. "I never saw the chess tactics he used before."

"At least you didn't crash into a wall and floor full force. I'm aching all over …"

Fred and George joined them.

"Ryo is monster," declared Fred. "Do you know what he made us do?" They shook their heads. "He gave us 24 hours to cook up tricks to pull on him. We tried everything but he wasn't fooled on anything! He almost ate a Canary cream, but he spit it out before he swallowed it."

"I can't believe he figured out the petrifying book," said George, his trickster pride obviously hurt.

"And the itching doorknob and the blinding goblet," said Fred moodily.

"The blinding goblet?" said Harry.

"When you touch the goblet it glows so brightly it blinds you temporarily," said Ron. "Fred pulled that prick on me this summer."

"There's got to be some trick he'll fall into," said Fred, brooding.

"What about a cup makes you turn into a … crocodile or something when you touch it?" suggested Harry.

"Excellent! Write that down Fred," exclaimed George. "Your absolutely brilliant today Harry."

"I actually feel rather stupefied."

"Maybe your feelings are deceiving you. Do you have more ideas?"

"Let's see … water squirting quills … face-drenching ink bottles … shrinking candy… kamikaze go pieces … spontaneous combustion bouquets …"

"Are you sure your feeling stupefied?" asked Fred excitedly, scribbling everything down.

"Nope; just make sure your not bewitching objects. Your father will have to arrest you."

"Who do you think we are?" asked George indignantly.

"Archetypal trickster figures," said Harry. "Hey Ron, we have death predictions to make up."

"Great," said Ron sarcastically, pulling out a roll of parchment and quill. They were learning about smoke and incense omens in Divination (like they needed more fumes and incense in Professor Trelawney's room). "What did you 'see' in your smoke?"

"I 'saw' a person performing a shamanistic curse on me."

"Ah… I 'saw' myself with you in … the forbidden forest."

"Then I 'saw' a tiger like figure lunging me."

"Good one. Hmmm, I 'saw' myself trying to save you but being attacked by another tiger like figure."

"Cool, then I 'saw' myself loosing my left arm."

"Yeah, I get savagely scratched by the tiger …"

"I shoot the stunning spell on my tiger …"

They created the whole entire gruesome story together. They were rather proud of the final product.

"Man … Trelawney's going to love this!" said Ron, reading it through.

"Maybe we should write horror-adventure stories and publish them," joked Harry.

"I bet they'll sell like mad," said Hermione sardonically. "Harry, you got an appointment with Professor Drow today. You'd better hurry up."

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"…As you can see, there are several different types of Runes, all using similar alphabets but with different systems. The most commonly used is Dwarf Runes, for Dwarves use them regularly."

Harry having his first out-of-class lesson with Professor Drow and was listening intently while scribbling everything he deemed important and interesting in his legal pad. (Professor Drow stared at it for the longest time.) Professor Drow was teaching him the difference between Dwarf runes and Elf runes. Dwarves used runes more frequently for private and secretive uses. Their constant dealings with stone and wood also contributed to the frequency as well. Elves --- that is, high elves --- used them mostly for divination.

Professor Drow lectured on and on, well past the agreed one hour lesson. Harry didn't protest this lengthy lecture. In fact he didn't realize he stayed with Professor Drow for nearly three hours till Professor Drow stopped talking because he needed a glass of water.

"On our next lesson, I shall set an alarm charm," said Professor Drow.

"You continue to amaze me with your capacity to learn languages Mr. Potter," said Professor Drow. "Mr. Ryo told me that you mastered 3000 Chinese pictograms within a month. Is this true?"

Harry nodded. Professor Drow started shaking his head with disbelief. Suddenly he smiled at him.

"Your mother would have been proud," he said. "She was an incredible linguist herself."

Harry thought his heart was going to explode.

"My mum was a linguist?"

"Indeed," said Professor Drow. "I taught her myself when she was at school. I never had a brighter student in my life. By the time she graduated, she already mastered 12 human languages, and the tongues of 50 other species."

"Do you know what she did after she graduated?" asked Harry breathlessly.

"I don't know much," said Professor Drow. "She did go to Korea and Tibet for field study and she wrote a scholarly article about Garim-toh, an ancient alphabet of Korea."

My mother wrote an article …

"Where can I find this article?" demanded Harry.

"It was never published," said Professor Drow. Harry felt crest fallen. But Professor Drow added. "But I think the Headmaster has the original scrolls. Maybe you should ask him…"

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Harry ran toward the stone gargoyle which was the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He was aware it was almost 11 at night, and he could get caught roaming around the hallways pass curfew by Filch or other Professors, but he didn't care. Dumbledore had something that belonged to his mother. Seeing it was more important …

Luckily Harry didn't get caught by anyone on his way to the stone gargoyle. But he had to just stand in front of the ugly stone sculpture, silently cursing himself of his stupidity for not asking Professor Drow for the password. Harry resigned himself for the guessing game as he continued to glare at the damnable gargoyle.

"Chocolate Frogs … Whizzing Whizbees … Licorice Wands …"

Harry started to rack his brains for more candy names.

[Snickers] said a small voice.

"Snickers?" said Harry incredulously, looking around wildly for the source of the voice. Meanwhile the stone gargoyle sprang to life and stepped aside, revealing a gap.

"Snickers?!" repeated Harry, stunned. "But that's a muggle candy!" He looked around again to find the source of the voice but found no one. Harry shrugged and entered the gap between the walls. He went up the raising stone spiral staircase and knocked the brass doorknob.

"Enter" said Dumbledore.

Harry opened the door and stepped inside cautiously. He found Dumbledore sitting behind his desk wearing a pink and fluffy nightcap and the parrot-green beard-holder Jiho gave him. Harry burst out of laughter before he could stop himself. Dumbledore beamed at him.

"I'm sorry --- to intrude --- into --- your office --- in the --- middle --- of the night ---," wheezed Harry.

"Oh no, I don't mind," said Dumbledore jovially. "Please sit down."

Harry sat on the chair directly in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"So, what brings you here in the middle of the night?"

"Professor Drow told me today about an unpublished article my mum wrote." Harry said in a rush.

"Ah, Lily's article on Garim-toh; you wish to see it?"

Harry nodded. Dumbledore walked towards one of the bookshelves and took out a box with a glass cover. There were several scrolls of parchment inside.

"Your mother left this to me for safe keeping." He said, handing Harry the box.

Harry opened the box carefully and pulled out a scroll. The article was written in a language Harry didn't know. But the handwriting is beautiful … this was his mother's hand writing …

"She wrote the article in Elvish," explained Dumbledore.

"Elvish … It's beautiful …" echoed Harry. "So this is Garim-toh … looks like modern Korean but with a Rune like feel…"

Dumbledore smiled.

"I heard about your sudden interest in Runes," said Dumbledore.

"Oh yes," said Harry absently, still staring at the scroll. "Jiho introduced me to linguistics over the summer. He gave me a lot of books on linguistics and philology and they were fascinating … especially the books on ancient and/or foreign languages. So I thought it would be fun to learn Runes. So far it is."

"Mr. Jiho must have taught you well. Professor Drow was very impressed with your progress, and Mr. Ryo told me you mastered 3000 Chinese pictograms within a month."

"Actually his sister LeeJin was the one who lectured me on philology and foreign languages. She also taught me introductory level linguistics. Jiho pushed me to memorize the Chinese letters and helped me out learning languages by showing me a lot of good reading material and sound recordings --- chants, songs, bard performances, traditional music, and the like."

"More then just the words I see," remarked Dumbledore.

"Yes. The Kuzes said that if I really wanted to learn Chinese letters, then I had to learn how to think like an Asian. Well, Jiho said there was no better way to learn about a different culture then from their songs and mythology: the very essence of the culture is breathing inside them. He was right; learning how Asian people think helped a lot when I was learning the pictograms."

"How so?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well, in a glance Chinese letters seemed to have formed arbitrarily. But once I stopped thinking like a European and tried to find out the individual components contributed to the whole letter, every word started to make sense: for instance the word 'man' is the combination of 'farm' and 'work,' the word 'farm' on top of 'work.' Symbolically, this meant a man is he who must work like he is carrying his farm on his shoulders to eat."

"Unlike our language," remarked Dumbledore, he seemed to be thinking hard.

Harry nodded as he placed the scroll back to its container.

"I didn't know my mother was a linguist," muttered Harry. "I always thought she fought with our side against Voldemort."

Dumbledore smiled at him benignly.

"Much of her time was spent on fighting against Voldemort, but she always found time to pursue the field of linguistics. It was her love and specialty besides charms."

Harry nodded his head slowly.

"Speaking of Voldemort, what are we doing to prevent him from regaining power again?"

Dumbledore looked somber.

"There is very little we can do for now. Death Eater activity is getting more visible then ever, but it is not visible enough for most people to merit even a caution."

"Basically everyone is burying their heads in the sand." It was not a question.

Dumbledore let out a sigh.

"Yes, that is the case. Though their reaction is understandable, it doesn't help us. For now, we must do everything with whatever power we have now. Your disappearance did do us one good thing and that it forced the ministry to announce at least the possibility of Voldemort's return. At least the people are aware of the danger to some degree."

Harry started scratching his head, thinking hard.

"What about the Asians? Are they aware of Voldemort? Is that why they're here?"

Dumbledore looked at him intently.

"You are very astute Harry. Frankly I don't know why they agreed to send masters to the European wizarding community at all, voluntarily no less. Asians are incredibly secretive when it comes to their arts of sorcery and they are none too friendly with foreigners, especially Europeans for … historical reasons."

Harry wanted to ask the historical reasons but he decided he should find it out on his own.

"Then why change their attitude towards us, all of a sudden?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry intently. Harry looked right back. Dumbledore's eyes shifted briefly before he answered.

"Asian sorcerers strive to keep the world in order, so the evil may not overwhelm humanity. I think they are aware of the potential rise of evil and sent people here as a prevention measure."

"But of course they refuse to explain their actions," said Harry grimly.

Dumbledore smiled at him.

"I take it that you tried to get an answer from them."

Harry nodded his head, scowling.

"Yes, neither Professor Wu nor any of his TAs is willing to tell me anything about their attentions or that of the Asian confederation. But something tells me some of them can be trusted. However, that is just my feelings. What do you think Harry?"

Harry was momentarily taken aback with the fact Dumbledore was asking his opinion.

"I think at least Ryo can be trusted. AanJi and JinHwee seem OK. I don't know about the other TAs but they don't strike me as sinister. As for Professor Wu … he doesn't seemed to care much."

"And your reasons …?"

"Professor Wu said he will come back to teach two years later if he was alive. He sounded like he expected to die before that. He also said quite clearly he was only going to lecture us and the TAs will do the one-to-one sessions. I thought that was a bit curious; it's seemed like he didn't want to get too involved with us. Ryo I know because he's the person who saved me from the hwe-seng-ma and I lived with him for month. As for the rest of the TAs ... it's just a hunch."

Dumbledore seemed to compile his words inside his head.

"Is there anything else I can do to help?" asked Harry.

"In fact there is. First and foremost I like to know what a hwe-seng-ma is."

Harry frowned.

"Didn't Sn-- Professor Snape or Ryo tell you? I told him before he left …"

Dumbledore looked grim.

"Ryo and his family did not tell me anything about the incident itself. As for Professor Snape, he did not tell me because he could not. Shortly after leaving the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Snape was kidnapped by unknown assailants. He was held for 48 hours and was returned in no shape to tell me anything."

Harry felt the blood drain from his face.

"Will he be … all right?"

"Eventually; though it will take a while," assured Dumbledore. "But I must ask you to tell this fact to no one beyond this office."

Harry nodded. He then told Dumbledore everything he knew about hwe-seng-ma. For some reason, Dumbledore seemed to be more interested in knowing how Harry found out what the demon was.

"You figured out Ryo's Chinese riddle," muttered Dumbledore. It was not a question.

"Harry, are you confident with your knowledge with Chinese vocabulary and culture?" asked Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing.

"Somewhat," answered Harry, uncertainly.

"Then can you take a look at this?"

Dumbledore gave him a piece of paper with message with two lines of letters written in Chinese. The first line had only one word.

"This note was pinned on Professor Snape when he was returned. It appears to be an anagram. But alas, I do not know Chinese and Professor Drow had no idea how to solve it. Try to decipher it, Harry."

Harry nodded his head, and started reading. In a glance, the message made absolutely no sense; it was grammatically wrong and the words had no relevance with each other.

A Chinese anagram? Hmmm …

Something was rather odd. The single word 'sum' was written on the first line and a fairly short message was written on the second.

Sum …

Harry suddenly remembered a short story he read in the book of 3000 words. It was about a certain Feudal lord of China who, after receiving a bowl of exotic soup, wrote this word on the table and left; leaving his retainers to figure out what he was up to. A very clever retainer, after reading the word and looking at the bowl, immediately ate a mouthful of soup and told the other retainers to do likewise. The reason was if the individual components of the word 'sum' were taken apart, the words 'person,' 'one,' and 'mouth' could be read. In other words, the lord was saying: one mouthful of soup for each person.

Thinking this, Harry asked for a quill and some parchment. After receiving both items, he started scribbling down the individual components of each letter on the second line. Deciphering turned out to be more difficult then just breaking down the letters. Even when he read the components individually, it didn't make sense.

This time, Harry tried to make words by combining the individual components. It turned out to be quite simple.

"Prelude … storm … begun …"

Dumbledore gripped the arms of his chair hard.

"Fire … no, Red … Fire/Flame … west … prepare … death … pain.

"No … escape … Accept … your … fate …"

Harry let out a rasp of a sigh.

"The prelude to the storm has begun. Red Flame of west, prepare to die in pain. There is no escape; accept your fate."

There was silence.

Silence stretched on.

"Red Flame of west," muttered Dumbledore, at last.

Harry didn't say anything. He was too busy convincing himself that this 'Red Flame of West' had nothing to do with him. Of course he had nothing to do with 'Red Flame of West!' Nothing about him suggested such. To begin with, his scar looked like a bolt of lightning. As for the 'red' part, nothing about his physical characteristics suggested that particular color: his hair was black, his eyes were green, and his face was pale, not ruddy.

"Who can that be ..."

Harry felt relieved. Even Dumbledore didn't seem to think 'Red Flame of West' was him. Of course it wasn't him!

Dumbledore massaged his temples.

"I suggest you to return to your dormitory, Harry. It's very late."

He needs time to think about this alone.

Harry nodded his head obediently. He was just about to leave, when Dumbledore called him again.

"How did you figure out the password to my office so quickly, Harry?"

Harry blinked.

"A … A little voice told me." Harry answered truthfully.

Dumbledore stared blankly at Harry, but soon his expression turned into a thoughtful one.

"Indeed …"

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