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Hi all,

Here's the next chapter. Harry discovers more about Kaze's past and receives a summons from the ICW.

Chapter 13

Harry's fingers traced the book."Tell me about Typhoon."

Kaze's form rippled. "There's no need. Typhoon is a thing of the past."

"He spoke to the Blacks after you claimed he died." Harry jabbed the page. "Are you saying there is no way he could return?"

Kaze didn't answer.

Harry sighed. "At least tell me about your past. What led to Typhoon betraying his own kind?"

"We were once the best of friends," Kaze said. "Brothers in purpose if not spirit. We patrolled the skies over the Asian continent together. Until he met a dark wizard who made empty promises. Typhoon foolishly fell for them."

"There had to be a reason."

"You have to understand. It was a turbulent time for the elemental spirits. Everyone was warring with each other, and the wind spirits had it particularly bad. We were also in conflict with some territorial dragons which added to our burden."

The candle flames bent sideways as Kaze continued, his voice hollow. "Each month brought fresh losses. Wind spirits have never been prolific like the other elementals. We numbered fewer than thirty when the wizard approached Typhoon with promises of power."

"What happened next?" Harry asked.

"Typhoon changed. The desperation ate at him like acid. He was the leader of our group and the responsibility was a burden to him." Kaze's laugh held no warmth. "Perhaps if I had taken the role, things may have turned out differently…"

After a moment, Kaze continued. "The wizard fed into Typhoon's insecurity, whispering promises of power to protect the remaining wind spirits."

"You tried to stop him?"

"I begged him to see reason. But he'd already formed the contract with the dark wizard. "

Harry leaned forward. "Like our contract?"

"Don't be absurd. We share an equal partnership. What they had was something unholy. Dark magic twisted their bond into chains, enslaving Typhoon to the wizard's will."

"Sounds like Typhoon made a terrible mistake rather than outright betraying you."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew the severity of that mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"They carved a path of destruction across Asia— China, Mongolia, down through the steppes, and eventually reaching Japan's shores." Kaze's edges blurred with suppressed rage. "Thousands were killed."

"So you hunted them."

"The final battle happened in Japan," Kaze confirmed. "But I wasn't a match for them on my own. An Earth Spirit King—old even then—came to my aid. The ensuing fight split mountains and diverted rivers."

Harry found it hard to imagine the scene. It would have been amazing to witness firsthand.

Kaze continued. "We killed the dark wizard first. Breaking the contract should have freed Typhoon. But the magic had warped him beyond redemption."

"You killed him."

"I had to." Grief and rage warred in Kaze's tone.

"How do you kill a Spirit King?"

"It's tough. I'll fill you in on the nature of spirits another time," Kaze said. "I managed to kill him but he inflicted a grievous wound on me before he died. Spirit Kings can hurt each other in ways that last for hundreds of years. I retreated to China and fell into a dormant state while healing. When I finally awoke, everything had changed."

"Fascinating," Harry said, glancing at his watch. "If there's nothing else you want to tell me, I will head to bed."

"There's something else," Kaze said. His form coalesced into sharper focus. "I left a weapon in Japan."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "A weapon?"

"The Earth King people probably still guard it. A weapon forged from my essence, before Typhoon's betrayal." Kaze drifted closer. "It belongs to you now."

"Because of our contract?"

"Each Spirit King crafted one. Tools to channel our power through worthy vessels." Kaze's form flickered. "Most were lost or destroyed. Mine survived as far as I'm aware."

Harry pushed back from the desk. "Like Enraiha—Ayano's sword."

"Similar, but different. Enraiha channels raw power. My weapon..." Kaze paused. "Well, I don't want to ruin the surprise."

Harry stood, stretching cramped muscles. "So we're going to Japan."

"The Earth King is contracted with a clan. I suspect they are guarding it. They won't surrender it easily."

"I'm sure I can figure something out." Harry's lips curved. "Ayano's been quiet since she left. Might surprise her with a visit."

"Let's head to Japan tomorrow," Kaze suggested.

"No, I have other commitments to take care of first," Harry said. "There is no rush."

"I beg to differ," Kaze grumbled.

Harry dropped onto his bed, muscles screaming from another punishing training session. A week into practice, Iggy drove them relentlessly, drilling formations from dawn until dusk. The Furies had nearly taken his head off during their latest manoeuvre—their synchronised assault patterns grew sharper by the day.

The Evening Standard lay spread across his pillow. His alter ego dominated the headlines again. Yesterday's rescue outside Manchester—three teenagers trapped in a burning wreck on the M60—marked his fourth public appearance this week. Someone with a camcorder had captured grainy footage of him tearing the car's roof clean off before the petrol tank could explode.

His "alien" narrative had caught fire faster than he'd dared hope. The BBC ran nightly specials dissecting each sighting. Even hardened sceptics struggled to explain the footage. Cambridge physicists published papers about manipulating air pressure and gravitational fields. American televangelists proclaimed him an angel on their weekly broadcasts, while doomsday preachers warned of the coming invasion.

Conspiracy newsletters and radio shows exploded with increasingly bizarre theories. His favourite claimed he was Elvis who had returned from his secret moon base. The tabloids offered astronomical rewards for his identity.

Tourists were flocking into the country by the thousands and the number continued to grow every day. They were hoping to catch a glimpse of Tempest. Harry had a feeling the Queen already regretted agreeing to the outlandish plan. Although the numbers were good for tourism, it was starting to cause chaos with crime and a creaking infrastructure that wasn't prepared for the surge.

Harry headed downstairs to find something to eat. If one thing the training had brought him, it was an increased appetite.

A muffled sob echoed through Grimmauld Place's halls.

Harry hesitated at the foot of the stairs, shifting his weight between feet. Dealing with crying girls ranked somewhere between fighting a basilisk and facing Voldemort on his list of uncomfortable situations. It sounded like Daphne was crying. Not something he expected of the usually controlled girl.

Where was Astoria when he needed her?

He found Daphne curled into the library's window seat, tears carving silvery trails down her cheeks. A book lay open in her lap. The Black family crest adorned its spine in tarnished silver.

"Found something?" He crossed the room, perching awkwardly beside her.

Daphne laughed. "Oh yes. The complete history of how my ancestors destroyed our bloodline."

She thrust the book at him. Harry caught a glimpse of a family tree before she jabbed her finger at a particular passage.

"In 1649, Claudius Greengrass discovered his wife's affair with Artemis Black." Daphne's voice trembled. "Rather than risk the scandal of his wife bearing another man's child, he created a blood malediction through a ritual. It would ensure any child of questionable parentage would sicken and die before reaching adulthood."

"That's..."

"It gets worse." Daphne turned the page. "The curse required sacrificial magic—the blood of his legitimate children. He sacrificed his own daughter to power the malediction."

Harry's stomach churned. "What an asshole."

"Something went wrong," Daphne said. "The ritual backfired. Instead of just targeting illegitimate children, the curse wove itself into our family's magic like a parasite. It skips a generation and then emerges to strangle the life of a single child. This pattern has gone on for centuries."

"The Blacks knew about this?"

"They helped create it," Daphne said. "Artemis Black's brother, Corvus, provided the ritual components, seeking revenge against him for some perceived slight. Corvus recorded everything in this book."

She pulled another book from beside her, bearing the Greengrass family crest. "Our records claimed the Selwyn family cursed us during an ancient blood feud. Another lie to hide our shame. My own ancestors did this. And now Astoria..."

Harry brushed tears from her cheek with his thumb. Daphne stiffened but didn't pull away. "We'll find a way to break it."

"Don't you understand?" Daphne slammed the book shut. "The curse feeds on magic itself. Every spell Astoria casts, every charm she learns, accelerates the progression. How wasn't this fact discovered before? She should never have set foot in Hogwarts."

"Try telling that to her."

She ignored his comment. "I've spent years searching for a solution. There's nothing. No counter-curse, no ritual, nothing that can undo what they did. I can't save her."

Harry wrapped his arms around Daphne, drawing her into an embrace as her tears soaked through his shirt. Her usually icy demeanour melted away as she clung to him, her grip tightening on his shoulders as if he were her lifeline. The world outside faded, leaving only the rhythm of their hearts and the warmth of their bodies.

"It's not fair," she whispered, her voice shaky as it brushed against his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

Harry's hand glided down her back, soothing her with gentle strokes.

"We'll find a way," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. "I promise."

The air crackled with unspoken tension as Daphne pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face mere inches from his. Her blue eyes, still shimmering with emotion, searched his emerald gaze, creating an electric connection that seemed to suspend time.

In a moment that felt inevitable and fragile, Daphne closed the distance, her lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. It began softly—almost questioning—but soon deepened with a fervent need that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Harry's hands tangled in her hair, drawing her closer as the kiss ignited a fire within them both. The world outside faded further as they lost themselves in each other, the kiss becoming a dance of passion and longing. Minutes or hours could have slipped by unnoticed until the unmistakable sound of a sharp crack shattered their bubble.

Andromeda stood in the doorway, her eyebrows raised in surprise. She held a gold envelope. "I came to tell you the ICWs finally moved but I can see you're occupied."

Harry and Daphne sprang apart as if doused in cold water. Daphne smoothed her rumpled clothes, her cheeks still burning, while Harry ran a hand through his tousled hair.

"I should go check on Astoria," Daphne stammered, avoiding Andromeda's knowing gaze as she hurried past her.

"We should discuss appropriate uses of the library before we talk business," Andromeda smirked.

"Let's not."

"If you're sure," Andromeda replied before she turned serious. "We need to prepare for the inquiry."

Harry groaned. "Now?"

"Harry, it's happening tomorrow." She tossed him the envelope.

Harry frowned. "Can they do that? It's bloody rude to give me such short notice."

"It's a power play. They're not messing about—they are summoning the full assembly."

"Brilliant." Harry broke the seal, scanning the formal summons. "I should just ignore them."

"This is serious." Andromeda perched on the armrest. "They're calling witnesses. Bringing in experts to analyse your activities."

"Let them." Harry crumpled the parchment. "I've done nothing wrong."

"They think you're threatening the Statute of Secrecy." Andromeda's eyes narrowed. "Your little alien charade isn't fooling them."

"What a pain." Harry stood, stretching. "Good thing I'm leaving for Japan tomorrow."

"What?"

"I have some business there. Too bad it falls on the same day as the inquiry."

"Harry James Potter!" Andromeda's voice could have stripped paint. "You are not skipping an ICW inquiry to gallivant across Japan."

"Okay, but the inquiry better be quick."

Andromeda sighed. "I need a drink."

Andromeda's heels clicked against marble as she and Harry walked through the corridors of the ICW headquarters in Geneva. Her formal black robes and sharp expression brooked no argument from the guards who moved to stop them.

"Andromeda Tonks, legal counsel for Mr Potter." She handed over their summons. "We're expected."

Harry wore his finest robes but hadn't bothered taming his hair. His wind spirits spread through the building, mapping it in case he had to make a quick getaway. He wasn't expecting trouble but it didn't hurt to be cautious.

"Your wands," the guard said.

"Of course." Harry handed his wand over with an amused smile that made the guard shift uncomfortably. Andromeda surrendered hers with more reluctance.

"You seem cheerful about being wandless," Andromeda murmured as they followed the guard.

"They think it makes me helpless," Harry said. "They are delusional."

The guard led them through gilded corridors to a pair of ornate doors. The chamber beyond stretched three storeys high, its walls lined with tiered seating. Representatives from magical governments worldwide filled the seats, their varied robes creating a tapestry of colour.

At the front of the chamber sat the Supreme Mugwump, Babajide Akingbade. He leaned forward when Harry entered, his dark eyes sharp beneath his red fez. The Nigerian wizard effortlessly captured everyone's attention, his presence demanding attention from all in the room.

Two chairs faced the raised platform. Harry took his seat and Andromeda settled beside him. To their right sat the American delegation—observers rather than members. The Americans had left the ICW two decades ago, after one dispute too many with the intergovernmental organisation.

"This inquiry will come to order." Akingbade's deep voice filled the chamber. "We gather to address the actions of Harry James Potter, specifically his repeated violations of the International Statute of Secrecy."

Andromeda's hand brushed Harry's arm—a silent warning to let her speak first.

"Supreme Mugwump." Andromeda's voice carried clear authority. "Before these proceedings begin, I must address several procedural irregularities. This summons bypassed standard protocols. No formal charges were filed. No evidence was submitted for review."

"Mrs Tonks." Akingbade's expression remained neutral. "This is not a criminal tribunal."

"Then why does it feel like one?" Harry asked.

Lucien Montfort, France's ICW representative, leant forward. "Your client's activities threaten the Statute's integrity. The footage spreads across Muggle media daily."

"Yet none of these activities gives away the fact that I'm a wizard," Harry said.

Lucien shot him a glare.

"The Council calls Madam Helena Blackwood," Akingbade announced. "Let's hear from an expert on the matter."

A tall witch in slate-grey robes approached the podium. Her silver hair hung in a severe plait down her back, and wire-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose.

"Please state your credentials for the record," Akingbade said.

"Head researcher in the Department of Muggle Relations at the British Ministry for twenty years, followed by fifteen years studying breaches of the Statute across Europe." Blackwood's clipped tone carried decades of academic authority.

"Your assessment of Mr Potter's activities?"

Blackwood conjured a series of newspaper clippings that hovered in the air. "Mr Potter's actions, while heroic in nature, represent the gravest threat to magical secrecy since Gellert Grindelwald's crusade."

"That's a bit dramatic," Harry muttered. Andromeda squeezed his arm in warning.

"Each incident creates ripples," Blackwood continued. "The Muggle scientists are analysing the footage. Meanwhile, theories are spreading like Fiendfyre among the populations. The alien narrative Mr Potter cultivates merely delays inevitable exposure."

She gestured, and new images appeared—charts and graphs tracking media coverage. "Muggle technology advances daily. Their cameras grow more sophisticated. Memory charms become less effective against digital records. Mr Potter's activities encourage more surveillance and scrutiny."

"Do you suggest letting people die instead?" Harry asked.

"I propose following established protocols." Blackwood's stern gaze fixed on him. "The Muggles can take care of themselves."

"Oh really? Who was taking care of them during the war? How could Muggles take care of themselves when it was the wizards who were attacking them?"

"And your solution is vigilante heroics?" Blackwood's lip curled. "Your actions inspire others. Already we see copycats attempting similar feats. How long before someone less careful exposes us all?"

"Evidence of these copycats?" Andromeda interjected.

"Three incidents in France last week. Two in Germany. A particularly concerning case in Australia." Blackwood produced more documentation. "Mr Potter's example erodes centuries of carefully maintained secrecy."

A witch from the American delegation stood. "If I may speak, Supreme Mugwump?"

Akingbade nodded. "The chair recognises Elizabeth Graves."

"MACUSA has reviewed the evidence extensively," Graves said. "Mr Potter's actions, while unorthodox, maintain secrecy through careful misdirection. And it's not his fault that others seek to copy him."

"You overstep, Madam Graves," Montfort snapped. "MACUSA holds no standing here."

"Yet American citizens owe their lives to Mr Potter's intervention," Graves countered. "Including the daughter of our President. We have a vested interest in these proceedings."

Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Akingbade raised a hand for silence.

"Mr Potter." His gaze fixed on Harry. "How do you respond to these charges?"

"With all respect, Supreme Mugwump," Harry said, ignoring Andromeda's warning look, "where was the ICW's concern about the Statute of Secrecy when Voldemort's Death Eaters were running amok? When the Dementors were stealing the souls of their helpless victims?

"The situation was internal—"

"You can't pick and choose the situations you respond to. You ignored the war because it was easier to do nothing ." Harry stood. "Now you summon me here for saving lives, to maintain your precious Statute?"

Andromeda rose, positioning herself between Harry and the council. "My client raises valid concerns about ICW oversight. Perhaps instead of threats, we should discuss reform."

"The ICW maintains peace through strict adherence to the Statute," Montfort said. "One wizard's actions cannot supersede centuries of tradition."

"Then perhaps," Graves interjected, "the traditions require updating. The world changes. We must adapt or risk exposure through rigid thinking."

"Enough." Akingbade's voice cut through the brewing argument. "This session will recess while the Council deliberates. Mr Potter, you will remain in Geneva until—"

"No." Harry turned towards the doors. "We've wasted enough time here."

Guards moved to block his path. Wind whipped through the chamber, pushing them gently but firmly aside.

"This isn't over, Mr Potter," Akingbade called.

Harry paused. "You're right. But next time you summon me, remember—I came today out of courtesy. Don't mistake that for submission."

In the corridor, Andromeda grabbed his arm. "Was that necessary?"

"They weren't interested in talking."

"And your display made them less interested?" She sighed. "Sometimes I forget how young you are."

Harry stopped walking. "I haven't felt young in years. Just counting birthdays doesn't make a person young or old. It's our experiences that shape who we are."

He turned as he sensed a presence. Catherine McDonald emerged from a shadowed alcove, designer jeans and a blouse hugging her curves. Even dressed casually, every detail from her diamond studs to her perfectly styled blonde hair screamed old money and influence.

"Quite the performance," she said. "Though you might have stayed to hear their decision. The looks on their faces when you walked out—priceless."

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"Observing. Elizabeth Graves made quite an impression, didn't she? The way she stood up to Montfort... one might think she'd rehearsed it."

Harry's eyes narrowed at her smug expression. "You know her?"

"The McDonald family has considerable influence. It even reaches the highest seats of MACUSA. Father makes sure of that."

"You arranged her support."

"I merely suggested MACUSA might benefit from a stronger stance regarding your activities." She crossed her arms. "Although, I doubt it mattered. Thanks to your heroics, the president would have stood up for you regardless. Saving his daughter earned you that much."

"Why did you do it?"

"Supporting an ally." Catherine's expression turned serious. "You intrigue me, Harry Potter. I can't have you locked up before I uncover all your secrets."

"I'm flattered," Harry deadpanned.

"No need to be snarky," Catherine said. "We'll speak again soon. Perhaps over dinner?"

Harry watched her walk away. The ICW, MACUSA, the McDonald family—the political web grew more tangled by the day. What a headache.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief after being freed from the mountain of forms he'd just completed. Travel restrictions to Japan proved nightmarish—their magical authorities proved fanatical about screening foreign wizards.

It didn't help that the translation spell felt a bit dodgy. In several instances, he could swear his words were misinterpreted, judging by the Japanese responses.

The international portkey had deposited him in Japan's Ministry of Magic. Hidden beneath the twin towers of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building in Shinjuku, the Ministry occupied a vast underground complex. Unlike Britain's antiquated telephone box, visitors arrived through a series of enchanted elevators connected to the observation deck on the 45th floor.

Japanese precision showed in every detail. Workers in identical black robes moved with coordinated purpose. At customs, officials wielding detection devices subjected Harry to magical scans that made Britain's security look primitive. Their rapid-fire questions probed every aspect of his visit.

He emerged into the magical district through the torii gate, stepping into a hidden district built within Shinjuku's labyrinthine underground malls. Traditional sliding doors crafted from rice paper opened onto shops selling a variety of magical items. He reminded himself to return and explore the shops more thoroughly after he was done with his business.

Stepping into the real Tokyo felt like plunging into sensory chaos. Rivers of humanity flowed past towering department stores advertising in incomprehensible neon. The press of bodies, the assault of unfamiliar sounds and smells, the sheer vertical scale of the buildings—everything felt overwhelming to his senses.

Harry ducked into a dim service alley and wrapped the wind around himself, turning invisible. He shot straight up, past countless office windows until the city spread below like a vast web.

"Where to?" Harry asked.

Kaze materialised beside him. "The Earth Spirit King dwells at Mount Fuji. The clan likely resides there as well."

"What do you know about them?"

"When I last visited these lands, the Tsuwabuki family were emerging earth practitioners—Chijutsushi. Whether today's clan descends from them or arose later, I cannot say."

Harry flew off towards Mount Fuji. It was located over a hundred kilometres away, but with his speed, he arrived in twenty minutes.

Mt Fuji's perfect cone dominated the southwestern horizon, its snow-capped peak piercing clouds. Even from sixty kilometres away, the mountain commanded attention. As Harry flew closer, its true scale became apparent. The summit disappeared into a wreath of clouds while dense forests of cedar and pine blanketed the lower slopes in deep green.

He circled the volcano's massive flank, scanning for signs of habitation.

"Strange. I don't feel the Earth King's presence," Kaze said. "He never leaves this place. But I feel another presence here, but it's muted. I can't tell what it is. I suggest you don't flaunt your powers here."

"Alright. It shouldn't be too hard to find."

Harry flew lower over the dense pine forest, scanning for any sign of human settlement. The mountain's immensity made searching frustrating—each section of the slope looked identical to the last.

After several minutes, his patience wore thin. Just trees, rocks, and more trees. If the village had such strong protections, maybe he should try a different—movement caught his eye. A flash of colour between the trees that didn't belong. He banked hard, circling back for a closer look.

A child in a bright red jacket darting through the forest. The boy disappeared behind what looked like a solid rock face. Harry frowned. No ordinary cliff would swallow a kid.

He landed quietly and approached on foot. The rock formation seemed natural enough, but something felt off about it. He reached out to touch the surface.

His hand passed straight through.

"Found you," Harry muttered, stepping through the illusion.

The crushing pressure hit instantly, driving him down despite his wind abilities countering most of the crushing pressure. Looking ahead, he spotted a woman approaching with measured steps.

Her long black hair flowed in the breeze as she walked, framing a face of cold beauty. She wore a form-fitting black bodysuit with armoured sections, practical yet elegant. Her amber eyes held a predatory gleam as she studied Harry.

Another wave of pressure slammed into him, and Harry realised she was manipulating gravity itself. He shrugged it off with a burst of wind, earning a slight frown from the woman.

"Be careful," Kaze whispered in his ear. "She's dangerous."

"Who dares intrude upon Tsuwabuki lands?" The woman asked.

"Harry Potter. I've come for a weapon left in the Earth Spirit King's care."

"Kureha Tsuwabuki." She inclined her head slightly. "Head of the Tsuwabuki clan. Interesting that you can resist my gravity manipulation."

"I guess I'm lucky." Harry's eyes narrowed. "That would have seriously hurt an ordinary person."

Kureha's lips curved. "An ordinary person wouldn't be able to enter here."

"Can we discuss the matter of the weapon?"

"What is there to discuss? Why should we hand over such a precious weapon to a stranger?"

"Because it belongs to my contracted spirit."

"The village elders will need to verify your claim." Kureha gestured for him to follow. "Come. I'll show you our home first."

Harry maintained a careful distance as they entered the settlement. Stone buildings rose organically from the mountainside, their architecture blending seamlessly with the natural rock. Covered walkways connected different levels, creating a vertical maze of terraces and courtyards. Fountains burbled in small gardens where stone lanterns stood sentinel.

Residents went about their business, many wearing traditional clothing mixed with modern touches. Children played in a training yard, learning to manipulate small rocks under an elder's watchful eye. The whole village breathed earth magic.

"Impressive," Harry said. "Your clan has deep roots here."

"For centuries we've guarded this mountain and its secrets." Pride coloured Kureha's voice. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to consult the elders about your request."

A violent tremor rocked the mountain before she could leave. Loose stones clattered down slopes as the ground shuddered.

Kaze materialised, his gaze on Mt Fuji. "A demon is sealed here. I've only just sensed its foul presence."

"Zenon the Behemoth," Kureha confirmed, unfazed by Kaze's appearance. "Sealed beneath Mt Fuji."

"Those tremors aren't natural," Kaze said. "Is the seal weakening?"

"Yes, but we expected this. It happens every thirty years," Kureha said. "We'll perform the ritual soon to subdue him."

"What ritual?" Harry asked.

"One requiring the sacrifice of a Tsuwabuki Chijutsushi. As it has been for three hundred years."

So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Harry has to deal with an escaped demon.

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