Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling and Scholastic. Kung Fu: TLC belongs to PTEN and Warner Brothers Television. No copyright infringement is intended and no money has changed hands.
Author's note: This is just a quick snippet that hit me on the way while working on another story. I have absolutely no plans to continue this idea, but if someone else wants to, you're welcome to it. Just let me know.
Harry ran through the rain as it pelted him mercilessly. He was trying to get to the gazebo before the hail that he could tell was in the storm could fall, and he was afraid he wasn't going to make it. He wished that he was old enough to Apparate, but right now all he could do was run.
He just barely made it, leaping over the marble steps just as the first hailstones struck the ground. He slid across the wet stone, barely regaining his balance in time to prevent crashing to the unforgiving surface, the result of which could have been a concussion, or worse. He got enough injuries during the school year, whether due to Quidditch or the actions of others. He didn't need to be adding to his tally while he was living with the Dursleys over the summer. He couldn't be certain if he did that he would receive adequate medical treatment. He couldn't risk using magic to heal himself, either. He'd been in enough trouble over underaged magic all ready. He wasn't about to risk expulsion this close to his birthday.
Seventeen. He just couldn't wait! As he shook the water out of his hair, turning to watch the raging storm, he went over the preparations in his mind. He would have to get all the magical items out of their hidey holes and into his trunk, save for his broom and his owl, within an hour of midnight. He had already rented a flat in Hogsmede, which merely awaited his presence, as he had done the entire transaction through Gringott's, and by owl, so he already had the key. He needn't worry about furniture or food or anything like that, intending to survive on Transfiguration for a while so that he wouldn't attract undue attention to the flat. He had already planned out heavily layered wards, putting only the normal household wards on the outside, then an average-looking glamour that would make the flat look better from the outside while hiding the shield charms he was putting up. The shield charm would prevent the magical signature of the heavier wards on the inside of the glamour from being detected by most ward revealing charms. Otherwise, the kinds of wards he was going to put on the place would radiate magic like heat off of asphalt in 100 degree heat.
Warding spells and Occulmency had been the two things he had concentrated hardest on during the last two months of school this past year. He had wanted to get out of the Dursleys' 'tender care' at the soonest possible moment, and for once his relatives were in complete agreement.
Harry watched the rain, waiting for the right moment to head back out and get back to Privet Drive. He didn't fancy trying to spend the night on the porch in this rain if they decided to lock the door on him. As he watched, another person, an older man dressed in American Western clothing, well worn and unadorned buckskin colored garments and a dark felt hat, joined him under the shelter of the gazebo's stone roof. The thing Harry thought strangest about his apparel was the fact that he wore sandals rather than trainers or boots. He made quite an interesting picture, even before he could make out the man's features with any detail.
He was on the young side of elderly, and of Oriental descent, with ageless eyes that strangely reminded Harry of Headmaster Dumbledore. Harry said, "Are you all right? Did you get hit by many hailstones?"
The old man shook his head. "I am fine. Are you well?"
Harry smiled. "Yeah, I'm okay. I just got caught in the storm on my way to my relatives' house. They don't like it when I'm late. I hope this doesn't last too long. I'm supposed to cook dinner tonight."
The man nodded. "I am only passing through. I am searching for someone who was last seen in France, and I'm trying to find a way across the English Channel. I have no money for the ferry." He spoke in a slow manner, carefully pronouncing his words, suggesting that English wasn't his first language. "I believe that I will attempt to swim, if the weather will allow it tomorrow."
Harry raised an eyebrow. That was quite a swim, even for someone in their prime, and this gentleman was not young. Still, something about him told Harry that if it could be done by a man of his age then it would be this one who would pull it off. Harry idly wondered if the man was a wizard, then immediately discounted the thought. Wizards were generally a lazy lot when it came to doing things the Muggle way. No wizard would worry about finding a way across the Channel; they would simply Apparate.
Harry himself had no problem with doing a little physical labor, but he could just hear the whining from someone like Draco Malfoy.
So Harry just said, "Who're you looking for?"
The old man smiled gently. "My wife. I have thought that she was dead for a very long time, but recently received information to the contrary. I must discover if this is true. Even if she has died since, I have not had the whole truth for a very long time. This will give me that if nothing else."
Harry nodded his understanding. He knew he'd be after the truth if someone had given him even the slightest hope that one of his parents were still alive. Even if it was likely to be a plot by Voldemort to catch him unawares. He would just have to be ready for a trap.
Harry looked carefully at the man beside him. His clothes were very old, and didn't tell of wealth. The sandals were just as worn and showed signs of skilled handmade repairs. His face etched into it by time and a hard life. This was a man who had most likely become the target of someone in his life. Perhaps he could give some advice. After all, with this storm neither of them were going anywhere for a while.
The man seemed to realize that there were heavy thoughts weighing on the young man before him. "What troubles you, my young friend?"
Harry raised an eyebrow once again, surprised, but grateful for the opening. "Have you ever had someone want to hurt you so badly that they would use anyone and anything around you to get at you?"
The man nodded. "I have."
"How did you deal with it? I keep thinking that I need to get them as far away from me as possible, but they've told me in no uncertain terms that if I tried it they'd kick my ass themselves. I'm grateful that they care so much, and I love each and everyone of them dearly, but I don't know how I'll handle it if one of them gets hurt or killed because of me."
"They love you a great deal, and they are not only willing to face that danger, but insist that you not face it alone."
"Yeah. That's them."
"Then as they have chosen the path they will take, the only way to ensure their safe return is to prepare them for the dangers they will face while they walk it with you. Be certain to share your knowledge with them, rather than hide it to prevent them from worrying. They must be just as prepared as you to walk that path."
"But there is something else, something that means only I can finish this. They know, but they want to help."
"No man, woman or child is useless in a battle if they use their own strengths and fight with what they know." The old man shrugged. "And besides, many heads can be better than one?"
Harry smiled. "So if Hermione's strength is research, and Ron's is winning at chess..."
"Then Hermione should help you to connect all of your information into a fluid whole and Ron should help you strategize."
Harry blinked. Suddenly things were making a lot more sense. Of course! If he thought about it, he could see just how right the Chinaman was. Fred and George could handle the artillery and Ginny could handle supply. Harry now realized that he had a team. Like the length of a dragon's wing, with himself as the slashing, clawed tip. He chuckled. "'Draco Dormiens Nunguam Titallandus.'" He wasn't even aware he'd said it aloud.
The old man smiled. "Does your dragon have wings?"
Harry looked at him, slowly grinning at the comprehension he saw in the other's eyes. "Yes. I do believe it does. I just never saw it before."
"It may only appear when you actually need it to be there. But you will always know that it exists." finally the rain let up and Harry knew that he had to get back to the Dursleys as soon as possible. "Well I'd better get going, I think. This was certainly the strangest conversation I've ever had with a stranger." He extended his hand to the elderly man. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
the old man took it. "I am Caine."
"Pleased to meet you. And thanks for the advice! I hope you find your wife. I know what it's like to loose family."
Caine gave him a strange salute, pressing a fist into his palm and bowing at the waist. "Perhaps our paths will meet again one day, Harry. And then I will tell you."
They went their separate ways, Harry at a dead run, trying to get back to an open door, and Caine at a sedate walk in a different direction. The smile, a knowing one that his son, Peter, would have been instantly wary of, never left his face as Caine left the park, still bound for France.
Harry sat down at his desk, not worried in the slightest about having his quill and ink out where he could actually use it for once. Vernon had been more lenient this month since many of the letters he wrote would enable him to get out of the Dursley's home all the faster. Harry sat down and started writing letters to the Order of the Phoenix and to his friends. It was time to give the dragon that was Hogwarts wings!
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