STATE OF GRACE

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“Back straight! Cat Stance!”

A seven-year-old Shaun followed as ordered, with a deep breath, he slightly bent his knees, extending his hands up front.

After that, came the loud call of multiple orders. “Right punch!” “Left punch!” “Kick here, kick there,” orders to which Shaun was already accustomed to, having been following them for over a year now.

In what seemed slow motion to him—but an extraordinary display of coordination and speed from a young boy to others—his small arms, ending in fists, punched the air in different directions, they also opened in cutting slices with his palms. His legs moved in synchrony, bending and straightening in fluid motions, separating and coming together as it was required, turning, alongside his waist, where the flow took him.   

With each grunt that escaped his lips, a spark of something seemed to be ignited in his very essence. It was something that had no name, but that seemed to hibernate inside of him for as long as he can remember.

He followed through with each stance Sifu Kisu—his instructor—ordered.  Each time he ended a punch, he felt something tingling in the surface of his knuckles’ skin.

“You need to breathe, Shaun, it’s the only way the Chi can flow,” said Sifu Kisu, landing a hit on his side with the long stick in his hand. “Concentrate!”

Shaun tried to take in deep breaths as to avoid his annoyance to blur his control over his own small body. Taking the Cat Stanse once more, the new round of hits started, with Sifu Kisu moving the long stick to try and land any hit on any weak point he could notice in the boy’s moves.

What Shaun hadn’t been able to notice, in his eagerness to avoid being hit, was that the stick strikes, and his avoidance of them, were making him move back. But it was too late the moment his hot and sweaty back touched the coldness of the rock wall behind him.   

“You’re cornered, Shaun, what are you going to do?” Sifu Kisu asked, striking for his head, but Shaun deflected it with the back of his hand.

The moment he looked up at his instructor, something seemed to clear in his mind’s eyes. After a deep inhale, Shaun moved his arms, and fisting his hands from his chest, he extended them. In the two seconds, this took place, something was opened in his very essence, an energy he’d always felt dormant came to life, like a bear after the winter. And the moment his fists connected with the wood of the stick, the tingling energy on his skin expanded, and fire was born from it, creating a blast that exploded to the sides, burning the wood, and sending Sifu Kisu a few feet back, thankfully not hurting him.

The man got up in a second, a gigantic smile on his face, filled with pride. Shaun could only look incredulous at his fists as if they were alien to him. The skin was perfectly fine but, wasn’t fire supposed to burn? Why did it feel so comfortable against his skin?

“So, it was true, what the spirits showed me. Raava's blessed are really back, the masters of the Chi-Control have been reborn,” the man half whispered.

“W-what are you talking about?” asked Shaun, seeing the blackened stick on the floor.

Without answering, Sifu Kisu walked inside his dojo, towards his office. Shaun hot on his heels, raining questions on his instructor, all of which went unanswered.

In the office, as if it were wallpaper, there was a collection of drawings.

“This is the history of creation, Shaun, as the spirits showed me,” the instructor said.

“The spirits?” asked the young boy.

“Our world is not only what you see, Shaun, beyond this physical existence, there is one much wider and far beyond what our mortal minds can comprehend. It’s called the Spirit World, the place in which everything is created first, before materializing itself in our physical world.”

When he looked back at the boy, he knew that little Shaun wasn’t really grasping anything he said. With a gentle smile, he crouched down to his level.

“Tell me, Shaun, do you have any friends that only you can see?” the man asked.

“Like an imaginary friend?” asked Shuan, leaning his head to the side.

“Yes! Exactly! Do you have any?”

Shaun nodded eagerly. “I have one! She’s white and like… like a… mantle, from the water!”

“A mantle from the water? Do you mean, like a manta ray?” asked Sifu Kisu, and Shaun nodded again. Thinking it impossible not to be it, the man got up and grabbed one of his drawings, in it, a white body appeared, just like Shaun said, it kind of looked like a manta ray. “Is this, perhaps your friend, Shaun?”

With his mouth forming a wide O, Shaun nodded, before frowning at him. “How do you know Raava?”

“This, Little Dragon, is Raava, she’s a spirit, the very first one that came into existence. You know her because she lives in you,” the man said, using his finger to point at the boy’s chest. “What you did out there, with the fire? That’s her blessing, you know, I came to you because she sent me.”

“Why would she send you?”

“Because you have the greatest destiny in front of you, and you needed someone to help you achieve the immense potential that lies within you,” Sifu Kisu explained. “With my help, you’ll learn how to control the Chi that flows through your body, do you feel it?”

As he took a moment to think, Shaun could feel the slight buzzing under his skin, as if asking to be let out. With little thought, and an exhale, he clenched his fist, and his skin burst into flames. The flames were stuck to his skin, but they didn’t hurt, they only felt comforting, as if they had been begging for years to be let out, and now, on the outside, they expressed their happiness, sharing it with him. Once he unclenched his fist, the fire died out.

“That is Chi in its most perfect expression, you’re one of Raava’s blessed, that’s your legacy,” Sifu Kisu exclaimed.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“You know the drill, Shaun,” said Sifu Kisu.

He was standing next to one of the over twenty large rotating panels or gates. He grabbed one, and after pushing it with force, the gate moved another, and that one moved two others, and in seconds, all the gates were moving rapidly as the same time and in the perfect notion as to not touch each other again.

A now eight-year-old Shaun nodded. It’s been almost a year of practicing Baguazhang, with some days of Kung Fu and firebending, but Shuan still hadn’t unlocked the right Chi passage to allow airbending.

The only two obstacles in Shaun’s journey up to date were the stupid moving gates—you can ask the three dark bruises on his back—and the constant meditation—you can ask the bruise on the back of his head he got after falling asleep—not to mention that the scar that once was a red spot on the side of his left eye had been growing all year and by this point, it covered his left ear, and was reaching the skin bordering the outer canthus of his left eye.

“You need to be like a leaf,” the older man explained. “Moving with the wind, not trying to make it move to your will.” He moved to the platform of spinning gates. “Baguazhang is all about circular and spiral movements, you already know that. Whenever you meet resistance, you must be able to switch direction at a moment’s notice.”

Switching his hands, from close to his chest to barely separated from them, Sifu Kisu entered the platform, taking little steps, one after the other, with his back straight and his eyes always up front. As he started to walk, his arms flowed, from up front to extended to the sides, to one up and one down, all according to the wind’s direction. Not only his arms flowed, but so did his whole body, from his shoulders to his waist, to his legs, they didn’t walk in a straight line, but rather in circles, spiraling around the gates, all until in seconds, he came out of the other side.

“Easy enough, I guess,” muttered Shaun as Sifu Kisu once again pushed the gates so they could keep moving.

The first two gates he crossed he was able to circle, but the third one appeared out of nowhere and pushed him back, making him stumble into another one, and another one, ending with him falling on his ass outside the platform, just where he started.

“Shaun,” Sifu Kisu sighed. “You can’t force your way through, you must let the air make it for you. You have to be the—”

“The leaf! I know! But I’m not a leaf! I’m a boy!” Shaun exclaimed frustrated. 

Sifu Kisu walked to him, gently squeezing his shoulder, “That’s the thing, Shaun, as long as you keep holding to that, you won’t be free.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Air is the element of freedom, and you need to let go of your earthly attachments to reach the level in which the very air will listen to your command.”

“Earthly attachments? And how do I do that?”

“You know, there was a time, many, many thousands of years ago, before modern humanity, when the world was divided in four nations,” Sifu Kisu said, before walking towards the back garden of the dojo, and using his stick, he started to trace on the soil.

“Fire is the element of power, people of the Fire Nation were known for their desire and will, and had the energy and drive to achieve what they wanted,” he said, tracing a flame encased in a box.

“Earth is the element of substance, people of the Earth Kingdom were diverse and very strong, persistent, and enduring,” he continued, tracing a geometrical figure, also encased in a box.

“Air, as I’ve taught you, is the element of freedom, the Air Nomads detached themselves from worldly concerns, and found peace and freedom, having a pretty good sense of humor, huh?” he chuckled, tracing tree small spirals forming some kind of Triskelion, also boxed.

“Water is the element of change, the people of the Water Tribes were capable of constantly adapting, with a deep sense of community and love,” he said, tracing a circle with some waves, simulating the ocean movements.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“It is important to draw wisdom from many different places, Shaun. If you take it from only one, you become rigid and stale. Understanding all the elements, and from where they come, will help you become whole,” Sifu Kisu concluded, tracing two lines to separate the four elements, before uniting them with an external circle.

For the next hour or so, the two of them sat there, doing nothing but breathing. Each of them had their fists connected by the knuckled, sitting cross-legged. With each deep inhale, Shaun felt something tingling on his belly, and with each exhale, he felt something tingling on the skin of his hands.

After another hour, in which he miraculously didn’t fall asleep, and he started to question himself, trying to find his earthly attachments. Suddenly, something… or someone? It was a very sweet voice, that felt like coming home, and it whispered in his ear, “Don’t be afraid to let go, only there you’ll be free. Trust me.”

They stood up to try once more, and Sifu Kisu pushed the gates again. Inhaling deeply, Shaun reached to that familiar voice once more, finding it in what he assumed to be his heart, beating in synchrony with him. As he exhaled, it was as though two hands grabbed him from behind, guiding his movements, from the shoulders to the waits, to his feet.

And slowly, he flowed through the gates, avoiding touching a single one of them, and finally, he came to the other side, and exhaling, he extended his arms, and opening them, the air flowing through the gates moved out, making them stop in a second.

Bloody hell, he just airbended!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

By the time Shaun turned nine, he was a little expert in both, Kung Fu and Baguazhang. But if Kung Fu focused on the strength of your punches and kicks, as well as the agility of your movement in retaliation, Baguazhang, on the other hand, focused on your lightness of feet, how fast you can change your direction and flow, not trying to crash and retaliate, but to disentangle yourself from conflict.

It had taken him a year to unlock the Chi path that allowed him to bend fire, and almost another year to unlock the one that allowed him to bed air but bending water had come surprisingly easy.

It had only taken him a couple of Tai Chi lessons before he had been able to make the water change direction, and move to, more or less, at his will. The problem now is two things, first of all, Tai Chi required a special emphasis on the wrist and finger movement—or at least it did to bend the water—, for which he still was unable to refine the fluidity, and second, the scar on his left side had grown even more, enveloping his eye and stopping before the nose, with the skin around his eye specially rough, and bothersome to blink, not to mention to see.

And he didn’t want to admit it, but to see his physical appearance change in time was hard. He was the only person he’s seen with that kind of scar, and no matter how ‘important’ or ‘special’ Sifu Kisu described it, he still had cried time after time asking his parents why he had to have it—especially after someone had made some nasty comment about it, as it was common in elementary school.

No matter how many times his parents had hugged him in their warmth, and how many times Michael, his baby brother had slipped into his bed, resting his small body against his, trying to help stop the tremors from his sobs, it didn’t take his pain away, it didn’t take his shame.

He didn’t care if he was some kind of reincarnation, he didn’t want to have it, and he didn’t want to see how his face got scarred apparently out of nowhere. He didn’t have to carry the weight of being the laughingstock of his classmates. He was tired of getting back home to finally cry after hearing one of their insults. ‘Scarface’ ‘Scarhead’ ‘Freddy Krueger’

Because each time he had to hear them, it seemed as if the fire beneath his skin was aching to come out, to retaliate, to hurt back, to take revenge. But he wouldn’t allow it, it was unbecoming, he had been born as one of Raava’s Blessed, he was an entity of peace and balance, not of hurt and hate.

And so, he learned the most useful ability: to tune out. Over time, it had become very easy to simply be like the leaf, swinging and flowing through the insults. Not engaging in it.

“Push and pull,” instructed Sifu Kisu. Shaun did as told, extending his hands, and then bringing them back toward his chest.

They were currently standing in the horse stance inside a small pool of water up to their knees, as Kisu considered that being in direct contact with it would enable him faster.  

“Now, follow my moves,” Kisu ordered, before turning his back to Shaun.

Doing as told, Shaun followed the master’s moves. He started by extending his left arm completely to the left, the right arm with its back on his chest. Then the left arm moved with the palm opened, in a swing to the left. He retreated the left arm to his chest, while the right one extended and then repeated the same movement backwards.

As he did, the water on the pond started to flow. Shaun could see the way the light reflected on it and how it moved, how some of the rosy petals that had fallen to the water moved, softly rocking from one side to the other.

Following that, Kisu lifted both arms, and slowly, Shaun followed, seeing how the water of the pond seemed to move altogether, gathering itself in one corner, and as Shaun’s arms lifted, so did the water, creating the resemblance of an ocean wave. And once his arms came down, so did the water, wetting the whole pond once more.

After that came a routine more than familiar, with movements of their legs, their arms, and especially wrists and fingers. Shaun decided to close his eyes and let the wisdom of Raava guide him.

That was something Sifu Kisu had insisted on letting happen. There were times in which an inner voice tried to speak to him, but Shaun was scared of it at first, until Kisu explained that it was part of him, the essence of Raava that lived in him. It carried not only the power of his Chi-Control, but also the wisdom of all his previous incarnations.

He had ceded so much to the influence of Raava, that he didn’t even notice the moment Sifu Kisu walked out of the pond, watching him with keen eagle eyes.

“Great posture,” said the man. “Remember to rotate your wrists, and to let your fingers flow like the river.”

Back in the horse stance, Shaun extended his arms up front, raising one at a time, simulating two waves, once one of them was up, the wrist moved the hand down, before rotating back and the arm down. Following his moves, a small column of water had risen.

With a mischievous smirk, and making sure to keep his eyes closed, Shaun moved his hands to the side, and the column extended, before falling straight on the top of his Sifu’s head, soaking him completely.

“Oh, Sifu!” Shaun explained with faked shock. “When did it rain?”

“Oh, you didn’t just do that, you little rascal,” Sifu Kisu said, before quickly jumping on the pond, taking a laughing Shaun with him.

Waterbending, checked.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

By the time Shaun turned ten, things had changed much more, even if stalemate seemed to be close by. His brother, who was two years younger, had also started to show a certain proclivity for the martial arts, which had called for Sifu Kisu to start training him, following a ‘hunch’, as he described it. A hunch for what, Shaun wasn’t sure.

However, Michael had, ever since the first moment, shown a bigger talent for airbending than Shaun did at his age—which shouldn't have come as a surprise; where Shaun was all about punching his way out of problems, something that's lead him to many detentions a t school, Michael was all about pacifism, hell, the boy was a vegetarian. This led Sifu Kisu to choose Baguazhang as the first one for Michael to master. 

Shaun for his part, had become much more expert in all three others: Kung Fu, Baguazhang, and Tai Chi, and their respective elements. He was now able to conjure flames on his hand without the fear of burning down the house, and to control the air on the hot days, or the water.

“Out!” exclaimed Sifu Kisu.

In the horse stance, Shaun pressed the bare heels of his feet further into the soil beneath his skin, feeling the coldness and roughness of the earth. As his arms stretched forward, the earth beneath him seemed to quiver slightly.

“Right fist up!” came the second order.

Shaun moved his arms, the right one in a fist upward, while the other formed a lateral arch, and a chunk of earth made its way up, coming out of the ground to the level of the boy’s head.

“Punch it!” ordered Sifu Kisu.

Shaun did as told, after punching the chunk of earth—and being grateful, because as firebending, it didn’t hurt a single bit—, it flew ahead, before crashing into a large oak tree.

They had spent the last portion of the year focusing on Hung Ga, which in less than three weeks, had allowed him to earthbend. Surprisingly, this one had been easy, because according to Sifu Kisu, the earthbending was facilitated by Shaun’s desire for protection and security.

“Great! That one was bigger than last week!” said Sifu Kisu.

“It was, right?” asked Shaun with a smile.

“That was awesome!” exclaimed Michael approaching them. “Do you think I can start doing this, Sifu?”

“Of course not, Mikey,” said Kisu, ruffling Michael’s hair as the boy’s face fell in disappointment. “Why don’t you show your brother the air scooter you’ve been practicing, eh?”

Nodding eagerly, Michael walked to the other side of the field. “Look at this!”

He started to swing his arms in small circles around each other, making the air compress around his arms, before taking a few running steps ahead. He made a large swing with only one of his arms, and in the large wave of air that came out of it, a special spot in front of him seemed to be collecting the majority of the air, forming a visible sphere of swirling air.

He jumped, falling sat on top of it, and the ais sphere started to move ahead—surprisingly, keeping its shape—, before turning abruptly from one side to the other, but Michael didn’t seem to be in much control of it.

“I still don’t know how to stop it!” Michael screamed as the sphere changed direction, going straight at Shaun. 

It all happened in an instant. One moment he seemed to be on the other side of the yard, the next one he seemed three feet away. Yelping, Shaun raised one arm, and a chuck of earth shot up, breaking the air sphere and sending Michael flying, straight to the pond. Shuan barely had time to raise his arms, making the water shoot up, forming some kind of tentacle, preventing Michael from getting hurt.

“That. Was. Awesome! Can we do it again!?” the younger boy exclaimed, his body practically vibrating in his excitement.

Shaun sighed. “No, you airhead,” he waved his hand, and the water fell down, letting Michael fall into the pond with a squeal.

“Well, I don’t know about you, Dragonling, but that seemed like a nice display of bending out there,” Sifu Kisu praised, squeezing Shaun’s shoulder.

“What can I say, I had a great master,” Shaun shrugged with a smile, before turning serious. “I think we need to talk.”

Kisu nodded, walking inside the dojo, both of them ignoring Michael’s whines about being left out.

“You said you found me because Raava told you, the same way you knew my brother was like me,” said Shaun. Kisu nodded. “What now?”

The Sifu started to pace the room. “Raava has told me there is another three like you, where they are, I don’t know, but she assured me that they would have their own teachers. I take it they have been born in different parts of the planet, but I trust her judgment.”

“And if we’re supposed to keep balance, that means something is threatening it, doesn’t it? How are we even supposed to find the others?”

“If there is something you need to grab into this head of yours, Shaun, is that nothing happens without reason. Raava chose each and every single one of you, because your destinies are already intertwined, how, I could not know, but when you least expect it, you’ll meet them, and it’ll feel like coming back home, because you already know them, or at least your soul does.”

With a frown, Shuan nodded.

“Now, come on, this is your last lesson before you turn eleven, it is enough to celebrate, your parents are coming.”

As he passed the window of the office, Shaun stopped for a moment, looking at his reflection. The only thing that changed in the last year had been his scar, as it had continued to grow. Thankfully, it only did towards his ear, covering it completely in its red coloring, with a slightly rougher skin.

After that, at least for the last months, it seemed to have stopped growing, and something inside of him told him there was a reason for that. His eleventh birthday was a mere week away, and the tingling inside of him told him something was about to change with that.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“You know the deal,” said Shaun’s mother, Ling, taking out the whipped cream. Just like her, his father and Shaun himself wore white aprons. 

In front of her, on the counter, was a large sponge cake, still nude, and it had been skillfully shaped with the form of a dragon. How she had managed to get the shape, Shaun couldn’t know, but he wasn’t surprised—only exhilarated—, his mom was the most skilled cook he’s ever met.

“Here it is!” said his father, Christopher, closing the fridge with a large can of blackberry marmalade in his hand, while a sleepy Michael hung to his neck with his small arms and with his legs around his waist like a koala to an eucalyptus tree.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” exclaimed Shaun as his mom moved the sponge cake, now sliced by the middle, so that his father could fill it with the marmalade.

While they did that, Shaun prepared the whipped cream and the spatula so his mom could frost it over. And while she did that, he started to mix some smaller portions of whipped cream with three different colorings: blue, green, and black.

“So, birthday boy, how are we feeling today?” asked his father, taking the used spoon so Michael could lick the remains of marmalade.

“I-I don’t know, the only thing I know is that I’m going to love this cake,” answered Shaun with a smirk.

“That’s what I like to hear!” his father said, extending his hand so they could high-five.

“Come on, boys, be of help!” said his mother, now finishing the white frosting of the cake. “The scales are all yours!” she said, taking a sleepy Michael from her husband's back.

“You heard the boss,” his father said most seriously, taking the colored whipped cream and starting. Shaun followed suit.

It was a tradition that for each and every birthday, the celebratory cake was to be homemade. A few months back it had been Michael’s with a beautifully green turtle cake.

His parents were the reason for their so mixed cultural background. You see, their mother, Pham Ling, was a Vietnamese immigrant, who came to England with some friends after being disowned by her family. His father, Christopher Kodet, was an English man, born and raised in London, before moving permanently to Yorkshire for his work.

His mother had been a schoolteacher for a few years after arriving in Yorkshire before Shaun was born, and after that, she decided to dedicate herself to being a housewife and taking care of their children. His father has worked all his life for a bank, first in a very time-consuming desk job, and from a few years back as a prestigious consultant, earning much more, and staying at home also much more.

“And there,” said Shaun, finishing the details of the dragon’s tail.

“Look at that, Dragonling,” said Christopher, ruffling Shaun’s hair.

“I was thinking we could—” Shaun’s words were cut off by the loud knock on the door.

As they exited the kitchen, they saw a very strange-looking old man standing at their door —previously opened by their mother.

The man was tall, and had very long silvery white hair, with a long beard that fell to his stomach, just as white.

The old man was also wearing strange-looking clothes, something in between the texture of a blazer and a long sleeping dress, in a king blue shade with little stars. He was wearing a pointy hat in the same shade. His face was framed with half-moon-shaped spectacles and his blue eyes seemed to have some kind of shimmer—perhaps it was because of the glasses.

“Ah, Mrs. Kodet, it’s a pleasure to make you acquaintance,” the man said, giving a slight bow to his mother, before looking behind her, where Shaun stood. “I would very much like to speak of something of most importance with you and your family, if you consider it proper to let me in.”

Everyone was looking intensely at the man, even Michael, who now seemed to be awake and more aware.

His father was giving the man a long measuring look, probably trying to scan for any threat coming from him—a habit that stuck with him after serving in the military, and even more after starting his family—, but seemed to spot none, as he gave a nod, walking towards the man.

“Of course, Mr...?”

“Professor Dumbledore,” the man finished with a courteous nod.

“Of course — professor, from where exactly?” asked his father, closing the door. “If you may answer.”

The man looked around, before spotting Shaun. He smiled down at the boy, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Shaun,” he said, before walking to a couch. “And to answer your question, Mr. Kodet, I do not exactly give classes, my days as a teacher ended more than twenty years ago when I was appointed as headmaster of the school.”

Wait a minute, how did that man know Shaun’s name? He had never seen him—he would very much remember someone as odd as him—, and his parents clearly didn’t know the man either. He knew their family name, which was fairly easy to know in town, but also his name? he was clearly searching for them specifically.

“Headmaster — of course,” Christopher thought out loud. “From where exactly?”

“Before answering to that, I would like to know if you have experienced any kind of… unexplainable thing when it comes to Shaun or when he’s been around? Things that don’t really have a logical explanation, things that seemed very out of the ordinary, or that could be only described as… magic.”

It had only needed for those questions to be asked, for the whole air in the room to thicken. Sifu Kisu had been very clear that nobody was to know about Shaun’s powers as one of Raava’s blessed.  It was no news that someone, whoever Vaatu had designed to be blessed with his destructive power had been born, and they were all in danger.

For this man to come and ask such questions, naturally, everyone got tense, and Shaun saw how his father’s back straightened in a second, before he walked forward, hiding Shaun behind him.

“Where is this coming from?” he asked Professor Dumbledore in a steely voice.

The old man raised his hands in surrender, trying to appear non-threatening. “Please, don’t get upset, my apologies, it was never my intention,” next, he took out a white envelope from inside his clothes, and extended it towards Shaun, “Why don’t you read this for us?”

His father snapped the envelope from the man’s hands, checking it outside, and opened it, checking the two white sheets on it, before handing them to Shaun, who read out loud.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr Kodet,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

“Witchcraft and wizardry?” asked his father, “what kind of foolishness is this? What game are you trying to play with us? Because let me tell you, sir, it is of very bad taste,” he demanded from the man in an even harder voice.

“Mr. Kodet, please correct me, but your son has done things that no other kid should be able to do, am I correct?”

A school of wizardry? Could it be there where he would finally be able to meet the other ones blessed by Raava? Maybe this was what Sifu Kisu told him, about being ready for his birthday and the changes to come. And before his father could answer, Shaun took the lead.

“There was one time, a few months ago, when I changed the color of my hair. I never intended to do it, I was angry, and it happened. It was red for a whole week before I turned it back to black,” Shaun said, stepping around his father’s legs and facing the man. “There was also the time when I made our cat, Oswald, disappear from the room, he appeared in the kitchen.”

The man, Dumbledore, looked at him for a moment, studying the scar on the left side of the boy’s face, before smiling once more.

“That’s something we call Accidental Magic. It’s sudden spurs of uncontrolled and unintended magic that magical children have sometimes when their magic starts to manifest,” Dumbledore explained. “Hogwarts is considered the best school for magical children in the world.”

“And how do you even know about Shaun?” asked his mother.

“The school was created by the most powerful wizards and witches of a thousand years ago. There are two things: The Quill of Acceptance with the Book of Admittance, two magical objects that write the names of each and every magical child born within the borders of the whole United Kingdom.”

For what seemed like long minutes, Shuan’s parents seemed to share looks, communicating in their own secret language, as Shaun had always seen them do. Speaking with their eyes what seemed to be hundreds of words by the second. His father nodded.

“We’re actually celebrating Shaun’s birthday, if you’d like to accompany us,” Christopher invited, gesturing for the dining room.

Once they entered the smaller dining room, Shaun noticed that, as usual, there were only four chairs at the table. He turned to his father, “I’ll go search for another chair for Mr.—” but was cut off by Dumbledore's calm voice.

“Don’t bother, my boy,” and he took out a long wooden stick, a wand, from his robes, and with a flick of it, a chair appeared out of nowhere, right there, next to the table. “A little demonstration never hurts the trust, does it?” he asked with a smile, taking his seat.

Everyone looked at the old man apprehensively, before Michael ran up to him, gracing the edges of his light blue robes, and started to ask him a gazillion questions, one after the other like a meteor shower.

How did you do that? Can you teach them to do that? Can you make other things appear? Can you teleport? Do you have powers like in my comics? Are you stronger than Doctor Strange?

Professor Dumbledore merely restrained himself to kindly smile and patientily answer to Michael’s nonsensical questions, while Ling went to the kitchen to bring the cake.

“Beautiful cake you made, Mrs. Kodet,” praised Dumbledore, observing the large cake-made dragon. "Highly resembling of the Hungarian Horntail."

“Actually, it was a familial effort, Professor. Chris and Shaun made the frosting,” she responded, taking the knife to start cutting the cake, serving slices of it in plates, and handing them.

“Why don’t you tell us more about this school, Professor Dumbledore,” said Chris, “it sounds like a rather expensive school, I take it? You mentioned it's the best in the world.”

Dumbledore shook his head, “The school doesn’t require any payment fee, Mr. Kodet, everything is paid for by the Ministry of Magic. In case you need it, we can request a certain amount of money to cover the expenses of the school supplies, in case you cannot accommodate changing your muggle money into wizarding one, the school has a sufficient fund.”

“Muggle?” asked Shaun.

“It’s what we call those who don’t possess magic,” answered Dumbledore.

“Isn’t it derogatory?” pressed Shaun, raising a brow.

Dumbledore seemed to think for a moment, there was a kind of storm behind his eyes, something that promised no good, but that the man chose not to speak about. “Well, there are those of our kind who certainly see it as a derogatory term, the rest of us simply use it as any other honorific.”

“What do you mean wizarding money?” asked Chris.

“In the wizarding world, we use Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons. There's a bank, Gringotts, in which you'll be able to change your muggle currency for wizarding money, I take it is not much devaluated,” answered Dumbledore.

“And how do we get there?” asked Ling, taking a spoon of her cake.

“The entrance is located in London, in a pub called the Leaky Cauldron—though, I'll tell you, only Shaun, as a wizard, will be able to see it, but he can guide you to it—there, you can ask the barman, Tom, to give you direction on how to enter Diagon Alley, where you'll find Gringotts and all the stores to buy your supplies,” the old man said, taking a bite of his cake, before hummin in delight. “Very delicious pastry you made, you have my thanks”.

“And how does this school work? Is it like a boarding school?” asked Ling.

“Precisely. The term starts on September 1st, the students board the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross Station and are taken to Scotland where the school is. They get Christmas, easter, and summer breaks where they can come back home for some days or weeks.”

“And what do we study?” asked Shaun, now more eager.

“Well, Shaun, you'll have to wait until you're at school to know that. A good wizard doesn’t reveal all his secrets, as muggles like to say,” said Dumbledore with glimmering eyes.

Pouting, but accepting the answer, Shaun bit into his cake, taking a few seconds to let his taste buds relish in the vanilla flavor of the sponge cake, and then the sweetness of the frosting mixing with the exquisiteness of the blackberries.

After that, the man stayed for about two more hours, where he answered all the questions Shaun’s parents seemed to have regarding the school. Before leaving, he asked to speak with Shaun alone.

“I sense something's troubling you, Shaun, would you mind telling me?” Dumbledore asked with a rather intense look behind his eyes.

“I-I – well, you see – I have,” Shaun said, gesturing to the large red mark covering a good portion of the left side of his face. “Back in school, kids are always mean to me for it, do you think kids at your school will too?”

Dumbledore studied the mark very intently, as if the red marring Shaun’s skin would give him all the answers he came seeking.

“Shaun, there are mean people everywhere, and it's not your fault to encounter them, You only have to be resilient when you do, and don’t allow them to take you out of your path.”

Shaun stopped for a moment, frowning at the man, and dissecting his deflective answer.

“So they will be mean to me,” Shaun sighed. Clearly, the existence of magic didn’t erase the stupidity of humankind, nor the meanness of children.

“Your mark is very special, I can sense that,” Dumbledore said, looking him in the eyes. “Is it a burning scar? It looks like one.”

Shaun shook his head, “It’s a birthmark, it was small at first, but it grew in time as I grew.”

Nodding, Dumbledore stood up, walking to the door with Shaun at his side.

“Well, Shaun, it has been a pleasure to meet you, I really hope your parents will allow you to come to Hogwarts, if they consider it appropriate.”

Chris and Ling walked to him, to greet him goodbye. His father extended his hand for the professor to take.

“We'll have to discuss this as a family, professor, you can rest assured that you'll have your answer.”

And with that, the man walked out, and after taking five or six steps, his body seemed to crack, distorting in the spot and twisting around itself, until with a single pop sound, he was gone, leaving no trace behind.

“Well, that was something else,” his mother sighed as his father closed the door, before walking to clean the dining room.

“I can't believe magic's real!” exclaimed Michael seeming alarmed—completely forgetting the fact that, just as his brother, he could command the wind, and the other elements, to his will. “Oh man, I should’ve asked him to pull a rabbit out of his hat!” he said, walking towards the kitchen, facepalming himself as if he had just wasted the biggest opportunity of his life.

“Well, Dragonling, I think your life’s about to get even more interesting, huh?” his father squeezed his shoulder, before walking to help his wife.

After that, the rest of the night went on fairly quickly. His parents did sit him to talk about it, and they covered a few important points.

For one, Professor Dumbledore had seemed very adamant when asking about all the kinds of magical accidents Shaun has had in his life—to which the boy explained in extensive detail—but he also seemed very adamant in asking for further information than just the boy’s accidental magic, but any type of unusual thing he’s ever done.

He asked in great detail about Shaun’s proclivity to martial arts, where he trained, why he did it, what benefits he has seemed—joking about considering it for himself—but none of them really bought the act. The man had to know something to be asking that stuff, he seemed very suspicious, and his questions seemed very thought through to have been done in a simple meeting.

Shaun knew that, at least for now, he shouldn’t be speaking about Raava or her blessing, or the fact that he and Michael were two of the five vessels born. For now, he would simply have to wait and see how things would turn out.

He would have to find a way to keep practicing his bending while he was at that school, because his parents thought it important for him to go, to be able to experience all the aspects of his being, and if he was magical, well, he needed to learn how to do magic then.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“General Qin,” spoke a trembling voice from behind him.

“What?” he grunted, not bothering to look back, his eyes were fixed on the map in the wall.

Their ship had been stationed on the Greenland border for over a month now, and still no results.

“We haven’t been able to locate them, Sir, the locals said there’s been no notice of anyone out of the normal,” said the lieutenant.

He sighed. It’s been almost a year since the last time he spoke with Vaatu, because the spirit thought it appropriate to leave to him alone with the stupid task of finding magical children to kill. Not that he had any reservations about ending their pathetic lives, but it would have been useful to have more real information.

To his current knowledge, two children had been born in the UK, which made them completely impossible to locate for the moment. There were two others who had been born in some part of the Artic region, and General Qin Shi Huang’s best bet was the Inuit, as according to Vaatu, they were the most reminiscing people of the ancient Water Tribes. And the last one of Raava’s Blessed still escaped their knowledge—Vaatu had spent all this time searching, with no results.

“Have our hostages said anything?” he asked.

The lieutenant trembled like a leaf in a storm, “No, sir.”

“What a shame,” he grunted in fake disappointment, before walking out, a smirk slowly creeping up his lips. The trembling lieutenant followed him.

The door he approached was guarded by two soldiers, who only required one look from the general before hurrying to open it.

The containment room was simple, with everything made of metal. But what he looked for lay there, on the floor. Two of the tribesmen were tied together by thick ropes. Their dark skin contrasted with the coldness of the metal and the whiteness of the general’s skin.

“This could’ve been so easy, but you refuse to cooperate,” said the general with a thick accent.

“You will kill us, anyway,” one of the hostages growled in an equally thick accent.

The general only smirked back at him as the soldier untied the men, separating them. He approached the insolent one who dared speak back to him.

“I will, but I would’ve been merciful,” and without waiting for an answer, a flame erupted in his fist, before being thrown at the man’s feet, lighting up his clothes, before the fire, as the consuming thing it was, continued its hungry path, savoring the man’s shirts and all the fur that covered him.

With the firelight reflected in his black eyes, the general saw how the man screamed in desperation. His cries hurt his vocal cords as they broke through. And the last thing he saw, was red eyes, looking back at him, as if he were nothing.

Behind him, the other man was struggling against the soldiers, screaming and crying, as his friend burned until nothing but ashes lay on the cold floor.

“Now, you will speak,” the General hissed, as he raised his hand, shining as a burning coat, and wrapped it around the man’s neck.

The next thing that filled the room were screams, as the skin beneath his hand started to melt, and the temperature raised. Once the man's voice, just like his conscience had given up, the body was left alone, landing with a hollow thud. 

“Do we return home now?” asked the lieutenant as they stepped out of the room.

“I believe, lieutenant, that I’m the general, do you want to know what happens to the people who don’t follow through with their orders?” his voice was steely, but now raised, leveled enough to be heard and punched enough to deliver the undertoned message.

“O-of course not, General,” the man said, lowly bowing his head, “what shall we do now?”

Instead of answering, the general walked, pushing the other with his shoulder, entering his cabin once more. The North Pole was just as cold as he imagined.

Qin Shi Huang had spent the last ten years searching for them, Raava’s Blessed. He was born in Shanghai, China. From a young age showing special talent, much beyond any of his age peers, for martial arts, and his specialty: Kung Fu. From a young age, he had come to understand that inside of him didn’t flare a flame but a whole forest burnt. And with it, all his emotions, and the destiny carved in his very essence.

Meeting with Vaatu at a young age allowed him to control the fire of the Phoenix King, and he used it with pride to take whatever he needed to, all to ensure the power for Vaatu and to realize his destiny.

And now, it seemed like he finally found a cornerstone to his goals, one word, one he still couldn’t understand. Hogwarts.

••●══••●۩۞۩●••══●•

Author's note

Sooo, here it is, finally!!! I'm really excited to see how this will work out, 'cause my plans for it are soo cool!

Please feel welcome to let me know your opinions, theories, ideas, etc., I'm always eager to read them!!

also, this idea came to life as I was watching the netflix adaptation. I personally think the cast was 100/10 like they were perfect, but many issues came from the writing and directing I didn't really like. what did you guys think about it?

side note, for Sifu Kisu you can picture the real Sifu Kisu

- 𝐣. 𝐟. 𝐜. 🐼💜