Harry's Summer Vacation

16 September, 1994
Roanapur Ghetto
5:35 A.M.

The four walked out, having handed over the squealer to a substantial number of grinning people.  Harry inwardly noted that one of them was the best dressed, in a well-fitted suit, sunglasses, and a pure white scarf over his shoulders.

Heading out, Lotton drove them all to their homes.  Harry actually got a few hours of sleep during the day.  Until his phone rang.

"Bwuh?" he asked coherently.

"Harry," Revy's very nervous voice came over the line, "you need to get to the office now.  Right now.  Right fucking now."

"Revy?  What's going on?" Harry asked, pulling on his pants.

"You have an appointment," she growled, and Harry could sense that it wasn't directed at him.  "Immediately.  I sent Benny to get you."

Harry said he'd be out front before hanging up.  Swiftly getting dressed (and wondering just what in the world could rattle Revy so hard), he headed out, making the sidewalk just as Benny pulled up.

"What's going on, Benny?" Harry asked, entering the car.

"No idea.  A creepy chick came into the office, asking to see you.  Revy instantly pulled both her guns on her, started demanding answers.  Apparently the chick is your doctor?  Anyways, Revy sent me to get you before calling you."

Harry blinked, his brain still running on fumes from a whopping three hours of sleep after the job.  "Oh, Morgan.  Right, Slipshard said she'd be coming."

"Well, Revy apparently knows her from somewhere," Benny replied, weaving through traffic, "and the experience can't be good."

A few minutes later, Harry walked into the Lagoon office to see Djhara Morgan seated comfortably, not seeming to acknowledge Revy aiming at her.  Harry was shocked to see Revy's entire body trembling slightly.  Except for her hands, which were absolutely steady.

"Good morning, Doctor Morgan," Harry began.  "I didn't think you'd make to Roanapur so fast."

"Good morning, Mister Potter," Djhara replied coolly.  "As you are aware, I became concerned when you did not return for a scheduled checkup so that I may ascertain the long term effects of the potion on you.  Shall we begin the examination?"

"I don't see why not," Harry answered, setting down his pack.  "Um, Revy?  You can relax.  She's my doctor.  She's the one that made the rebuiild potion for me before I left Britain."

"Oh, fuck no," Revy snarled out.  "I know who she is, what she is, and what she's capable of.  I ain't relaxing until she's out of Thailand.  So she can just do her thing and fucking leave."

"Okay..."  Harry was beginning to get really concerned over his sister at this point, but turned and said, "Doctor Morgan, let's get this out of the way, shall we?"

"Of course," Djahara replied, pulling out her rod.  Casting a spell similar to the one she cast in Slipshard's office (Harry now knew that it was a spell rooted in a demonic tongue), a scroll of parchment began scribbling.  A few moments later, it stopped for Djhara to end her casting and go over the readings.  "Ah, excellent.  It seems that your physical infirmities have been resolved, with the exception of the bite.  And the readings I got from your scar are gone as well.  However..."

Djhara's head tilted slightly, then tilted the other way.  "Mister Potter, somehow the potion is still actively adjusting your body even after the base adjustment period.  I am curious as to how this could have occurred."

"I kind of absorbed the entire magical setup of a magical kingdom," Harry admitted.  "Oh, and the bit behind my scar.  That's been absorbed, as well as the entire ward scheme control of Yamatai."

Djhara blinked once at that (the first time she'd blinked yet), and then began casting more, a tiny line between her eyebrows the only hint of a frown.  And then it disappeared.

"I see what has happened.  Sit down, Mister Potter."  Harry did so, and she seated herself back down, Revy's guns still trained on her.  "Your absorption of the magics has had an unforseeable interaction with the potion.  The potion is formulated to adapt itself to your active requirements in order to facilitate healing.  In your particular case, the absorption has affected the potion in such a manner that leaves it in a state of 'always on', if you will.

"The effects of this are multitudinous.  You are in no danger from this, Mister Potter.  However, the neurological effects can be quite startling.  These effects appear to include faster skill learning, memory retention, and reflexes.  I can see that you are training physically, magically, and mentally, which is excellent.  However, the potion will push your body and mind to adapt as swiftly as possible in order to take fullest advantage whatever you are undergoing.  These are the positives.

"The primary negative includes a greying of internal morality.  You may find yourself performing actions that would previously unthinkable.  Your brain chemistry is operating a little differently, being more keyed towards taking the advantages that you can.  You will not find yourself doing anything that would be wholly anathema to yourself from before the potion, but you may find yourself undergoing actions that previously you would have seriously considered before discarding."

Harry stared at that, tucking it all away in his memory.  "So, what does that mean for now?"

"It means," Djhara began, opening her purse, "that according to my scans, Roanapur has been very good for you.  Physically, you are entirely fit.  Perhaps a little too healthy given your age, but that seems to be from you taking my edict properly to heart.  The last potion will wear off in two weeks.  What I am offering you is a lessened version of the potion.

"I have been informed that you should be returning to Britain in early November.  The adjusted version of the potion will continue the rapid adjustment in the brain; your body needs no further adjustment, and will do more harm than good to keep you on the regular version.  Your mind, however...  You have clearly been learning at an accelerated pace.  I am offering you the opportunity to continue to mentally adjust while you are in Thailand."

"I'll take it," Harry replied almost instantly, now having answers for how fast he was apparently learning everything.  As well as how he was able to just participate in a kidnapping.  "Another month learning like I have been?  I'd have to be brain damaged to say no, ma'am.  How much will it be?"

"No charge this time, Mister Potter," Djhara replied as she began mixing components into a vial.  "The data you have provided me should prove it's worth in comparison to the cost of the potion."  Handing the vial over, she said, "Take that on the Thirtieth.  By the time you return to Britain, it will have run it's course."

"Thank you, Healer Morgan," Harry replied.  "I really appreciate your work."

"Certainly, Mister Potter."  Djhara rose, calmly moving to the door.  Laying her hand on the knob, she turned to look back.  "Revy, is it?"  Revy nodded, guns still trained.  "You will be pleased to know that Mister Lee's demise was written up as a Suicide."

Revy blinked at that in shock.  "How the fuck did that happen?  An asshole doesn't just shoot themselves three times in the fucking heart!"

To Harry's amazement, Djhara's face suddenly bore the ghost of a smirk.  "The forensic specialist already knew what was happening.  Given his behavior, he was clearly requesting that someone put him down.  Wouldn't you agree?"

And with that, she was out the door.  As the door closed behind her, Revy sank to the floor, pale and shaking.  Harry rushed over, helping her to the couch.  Shooing Benny out with a hand, he asked, "Revy?  Hey, you okay, sis?"

Frightened eyes darted back and forth as she whispered, "Are we alone?"  Harry nodded before Revy said, "I knew her, back in New York.  She and her husband ran a Free Clinic on the border of Harlem; it's where I went for anything medical.  She is a cast-iron, stone cold murder machine, Harry.  Never a single regret, no hesitation to wipe out anything that threatened what was hers.  I saw her tear through a pack of gang-bangers; only chunks were left.

"And now," Revy continued, leaning into Harry's shoulder, "she goes and tells me that she wrote up my old man's murder as a fucking suicide."  Revy let out a bit of choked laughter before saying, "I just...  I don't fucking know, Harry."

"C'mon, let's get you home," Harry offered, taking her hand.  "Let's get you to my place, let you relax."

"Yeah.  Yeah, that sounds great, Harry," Revy replied with a watery smile.  "Thanks."

Benny and Harry got Revy to his apartment, and Harry pulled her into his bag, setting her up in his own bedroom.  He then called Gurrimurra, letting her know that there was a bit of a family emergency, and that he'd be by the next morning to make it up.

Revy slept the entire day and night, going to her own room in the morning claiming to be feeling better.  Harry spent the morning at the clinic, hand-stitching a number of construction workers together without magic.  The afternoon found him filing runes out of jade, while trying to figure out how to piece together all of the enchantments he wanted for the broom.

Around seven (no girlfriends on a Saturday night), there came a knock at his door.  Pistol in hand, he peered through the peephole to see Yakumo's friendly face on the other side.  Opening the door, he said, "Evening, Yakumo.  what brings you by?"

Scratching at the back of his head, Yakumo replied, "I was in the area, and we don't talk a lot, you know?  I was thinking we could get to know each other outside of parkour."

"Sure, come on in."

Yakumo looked around at the fairly spartan room, as well as the bits of jade, wood, and copper on the dresser.  "Simple living, huh?"

"I like it," Harry commented, bolting the door before dropping into a chair and gesturing for Yakumo to do the same.  "After three years in a boy's dorm, I like the quiet."

Yakumo frowned at that, even as gunfire erupted down the street, and the sound of someone's car being set on fire could be heard.  "I'm guessing it's the snoring, huh?"

They both laughed at that, and then Harry spotted the package that Yakumo had brought with him.  Opening the bag, the young man pulled out several bottles of something purple.  Handing Harry one, He led with, "So, my name is Yakumo Fuji, but you knew that.  I'm originally from Tokyo, and my father was an anthropologist.  Mom left us years ago."

"That's rough, man.  Then again, my parents were killed by an evil wizard when I was a baby, so..."

"Dad left on an expedition when I was twelve," Yakumo continued.  "See, he was obsessed with the historical legend of the Sanjiyan Unkara, the fabled Triclops Demons.  Their lore is scatter throughout southeast Asia, but it all pretty much disappears a few hundred years ago.

"Anyways, about six months ago I was on my way to work on my scooter when I had to dodge some girl standing in the middle of the street.  One thing led to another, and I ended up taking her to work with me.  I, uh..."  Yakumo flushed for a moment before saying, "I worked in a drag bar.  Yeah, me and the other guys dressed up as women in a kind of Hostess Club.  Anyways, the girl, Pai, handed me a letter from my father, and then his polished skull.

"A whole lot of stuff happened from there.  I ended up in Hong Kong, fought some demons, some cultists, lost the statue I was supposed to get to make Pai human; turned out she was a Sanjiyan.  Came back to Japan, one of my friends got posessed by a frog demon, more crap happened, went back to Hong Kong, and the Pai, or Sanjiyan, not sure which, decided to go and fight some asshole.  That's why the docks at Aberdeen are gone, you see.  Something in that fight exploded so hard that people at first thought a nuke went off.

"Mrs. Long, who lost her husband to the cultists, is the reason I'm here.  Someone owed her a favor, and Lotton owed that guy a favor."

"Holy shit, man," Harry muttered.  "That's a basic version right?"  Yakumo nodded.  "There's a lot more?"

"Oh yeah.  I just touched on the high points."

"So why tell me?"

"Because you're magical; I can sense it."  Sighing, he pulled off his ever-present headband.  There, in the middle of his forehead, stood an ornate symbol in black.  "I am the Wu of a Sanjiyan.  That means that I was about to die, and she swallowed my soul.  If she's alive, I can't die.  I've had a bridge dropped on me, got hit face first by a cop car, I even set myself on fire to kill a demon.  So me being alive lets me know that she's alive.  My nature also lets me sense a bit of magic.

"I figure that since we're training together, we can teach each other stuff.  I have a black belt in Aikido, and am certified in mixology, for example.  Lotton's teaching me stuff, and I'm betting I can learn a ton from you, too.  And I have my own stuff I can teach you."

"Apart from Aikido and how to make a mean cocktail, you mean?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"Well, yeah.  Like, your Japanese.  It's so out of date it needs to be in a museum.  I can help you get up to date without that girlfriend of yours distracting you.  Get you up on modern Japanese culture so you look like less of a tourist if you're ever there.  That sort of thing."

"I get you," Harry admitted, rolling the idea around in his head.  "I like it.  Hi, I'm Harry Potter," Harry cheerfully replied, thrusting out his hand.  "I'm a wizard, best know in Magical Britain for having a spell-proof forehead.  I have a magic wand, I'm building a flying broom, and I have an owl that delivers mail for me."

The two would spend hours getting to know one another, laughing, joking, and occasionally telling their stories in hushed tones.