Harry Potter: The Legend of Nero Ravenclaw

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The day had finally arrived.

Nero stood at the entrance of his home, a light morning breeze ruffling his robes as the sun barely peeked over the horizon.

The sky was still tinged with the deep blue of dawn, with streaks of gold announcing the coming of a new day.

The crisp morning air carried with it a solemn yet expectant energy.

An unspoken farewell between him and the land he was about to leave behind temporarily.

Today, he was departing for Japan.

He had one month and a half before his third year officially started, but he couldn't afford to wait.

The Void Principle within him was unstable. He needed to contain it before it consumed him.

At exactly 6:55 AM, a soft crack echoed in the still air.

Dumbledore had arrived.

The wizard stood with his usual air of wisdom and warmth, his blue eyes twinkling, though today, they carried a hint of sorrow.

He was dressed in his usual flamboyant robes, a deep shade of purple embroidered with golden phoenixes that shimmered faintly in the dim light.

"Are your preparations ready, Nero?" Dumbledore asked, his voice gentle yet firm.

"I believe so, Grandpa." Nero offered a small smile, trying to reassure him.

Dumbledore nodded, but his eyes lingered on Nero, as if committing every detail of him to memory. "Good. Muzen sent me this Portkey. It will take you directly to him at precisely 7:00 sharp. Take it."

With a wave of his wand, he conjured an object in midair. A beautifully carved wooden katana, a bokken, as Japanese called it, floated between them. Nero reached out and grasped it, feeling the smooth grain of the wood beneath his fingers.

Nero glanced up to find Dumbledore watching him with an expression of affection, a rare moment of vulnerability in the legendary wizard's features.

"Nero," Dumbledore hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "I know you are strong, but even the strongest warriors must not bear burdens alone. If you need guidance, do not hesitate to call upon me."

Nero swallowed. He had never been one for emotional farewells, but he knew how much Dumbledore cared for him.

Despite his flaws, Nero had come to respect the man deeply.

And the reveal of their family ties only deepened that bond, though a part of him couldn't help but notice how Dumbledore was slightly changing.

Subtly shifting from the figure he had once known in books.

He nodded, gripping the bokken tighter. "Thank you, Grandpa. I promise, everything will be okay."

Dumbledore studied him for a long moment before offering a small smile. "Then I will hold you to that promise."

The clock struck seven.

"Take care Nero."

The world twisted around Nero.

One moment, he was standing in the familiar comfort of the entrance of his home, the next, he was engulfed in a rush of magic, his vision warping and stretching as the Portkey carried him across continents.

The sensation was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, simply a sudden disconnection from reality before being slammed back into existence.

When his feet found solid ground again, he was standing in the middle of a massive dojo.

The first thing he noticed was the floor: polished dark wood that gleamed under the soft glow of golden lanterns hanging from the ceiling.

The dojo stretched endlessly, lined with wooden pillars and sliding paper doors, each painted with delicate calligraphy.

Despite its size, the space was silent, as if the very air respected the discipline required within its walls.

At the far end of the dojo, a figure sat cross-legged upon a raised wooden platform, still as a statue.

His presence was commanding yet calm, a quiet storm contained within a single body.

Long dark hair cascaded over his shoulders, contrasting with the white robe he wore. His eyes, though closed, exuded an air of absolute awareness.

Nero took a step forward.

The figure's voice rang out, smooth yet weighty with wisdom. "Welcome, Nero Ravenclaw."

Nero inclined his head in respect. "Thank you for helping me, Muzen-san."

Muzen's lips curled slightly. "Oh? You speak Japanese. That will make explanations much smoother. Also, you can simply call me Muzen."

Nero nodded, feeling the weight of the journey ahead settle upon him.

Muzen unfolded his legs and stood effortlessly, his movements as fluid as flowing water. "Today, you will calm your spirit. Tomorrow, we will discuss your path."

Nero accepted this without question.

He had learned long ago that wisdom was often best absorbed through patience.

Muzen turned, leading him out of the dojo.

The cool evening air greeted them as they stepped onto a wooden veranda.

The structure of the house before them was magnificent.

An expansive, traditional Japanese estate, complete with curved rooftops and intricate wooden carvings adorning the beams.

Sliding doors led into spacious rooms lit by soft paper lanterns, and the entire place radiated an air of both discipline and tranquility.

As they walked through the corridors, Nero took note of the shikigami moving about.

Delicate paper figures, shaped like humanoid dolls, flitted across the halls.

Some carried trays with tea, others dusted surfaces with small enchanted fans.

Their movements were smooth and purposeful, each of them performing their tasks with an eerie yet graceful precision.

Nero's gaze lingered on them. Muzen, noticing his curiosity, stopped and folded his arms. "In Japan's magical society, we do not approve of the use of house-elves."

Nero looked up at him. "Then these..."

"Shikigami," Muzen finished. "Spirits bound to paper, given form through magic. They serve as assistants, companions, and even warriors when needed."

Nero observed as one shikigami floated past, carrying a set of fresh robes.

Unlike house-elves, there was no look of subservience, no lowered gaze or hunched posture.

These entities simply existed, carrying out their tasks efficiently and without complaint.

It was a stark contrast to the quiet servitude of house-elves in Britain.

The first day passed uneventfully. Nero spent much of it in quiet meditation, familiarizing himself with the new surroundings.

Later in the evening, he began reading a book on the principles of Japanese magic, absorbing the intricacies of their spellcraft and philosophies.

The second day dawned, ushering in the beginning of his true training.

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