Harry Potter has been living abroad for years. Suddenly, he has decided to return back to Britain. He now faces demons of the past and future. Read and discover as he realizes the difficulty and toll revenge has on his soul and the complexity of goi...
All he could feel was cold. Nothing but the icy feeling of the cold penetrating his skin heading straight for his bones. He was trying to warm himself with his hands and heavy cloak but even they couldn't seem to quench the cold's desire. The gaze of the fire a few feet from him doing absolutely nothing to change his fortunes.
A voice broke the chilly silence that reigned in the forest. "Rub your chest. Your hands will take care of themselves."
Harry glanced at the wood burning in the fire and desired some for himself before he did as Lacour advised.
The fire cracking, his mentor continued, "You're stronger than your old man."
Anger burning in his eyes but unable to do anything he replied, "You didn't know my father."
"But I know the rage that drives you. That impossible anger strengthening the grief until the memory of your loved ones becomes poison in your veins."
Breaking the staring and gaining a faraway look in his eyes as he simply stared into something and yet nothing at all., ".... Until one day you catch yourself wishing the person you loved had never existed, so you'd be spared your pain."
Harry finally got a good look at his mentor seeing him in a new light as he continued his tale.
Tired eyes, full of unshed tears and a lump in his throat Lacour relented on, "I wasn't always here in the mountains. Once I had a wife... my great love. She was taken from me, like you, I was forced to learn that there are those without decency, who must be fought without hesitation, without pity. Your anger gives you great power but if you let it; it will destroy you as it almost did me."
Conviction in his eyes he asked, "What stopped it?"
"Vengeance."
Thoughts of the muggle that had already been killed by another, Harry declared with no hesitation, "That's no help to me."
A few Months later.
League of Shadows Training Compound.
"A criminal is not complicated. What you really fear is inside yourself. You fear your own power. You fear your anger, the drive to do great or terrible things." Lacour glanced down at the now hot ancient Chinese bronze censer, it had the herb that would let Harry confront his deepest fears. He poured more of the herb into it as it caked and charred in the metal container.
Harry was dressed in the typical ninja regalia, having come to one of his last tests. He had advanced faster than most: having taken only close to a year to nearly complete his training. A task that took others, years of dedication.
"You are ready."
Hovering the censer close to Harry, he ordered him, "Breathe."
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