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Harry Potter and the Butterfly Effect
By Brennus

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Action/Adventure
Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Rape, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence/Physical Abuse
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 733
Summary: Minor events can have repercussions far beyond their size and importance. When one of these minor events occurs to a ten year-old Harry Potter he finds his world turned upside-down and it starts him down a very different path than the one he expected to follow.
Hitcount: Story Total: 199227; Chapter Total: 8258
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Firstly, can I say that while I always heavily rely on the help of my beta Tom (MinistryMalcontent) he has been a life-saver with this and the following chapter. How lucky am I that my beta just happened to have lived in Japan? The gods of fan-fiction continue to smile upon me! Tom has helped me with all things Japanese, particularly the names, and saved me from looking like an ignorant Englishman who just tried to throw this together with the help of some Manga paperbacks (which I am!). Several lines in this story are his completely.

Influences for these chapters come from a couple of sources. My desire to write a SamuraiHarry! came from the film ‘Yamada – Way of the Samurai’, which is superb. My training camp is largely unrecognisable from the film, although Tamazuki is heavily influenced by the master the film’s hero meets. I also don’t have an overacting ten-year old Thai girl trying to steal every scene she’s in either, which is a pity.

Tamazuki’s philosophy is largely based on the work of the guru Osho. I know Osho is a somewhat discredited figure but I find him quite interesting. My main source of information on the man was from the book ‘The Three Dangerous Magi,” by P.T. Mistlberger, which is also highly recommended.

Oh, I’m sure many of you will recognise the Sun Tzu quote in here, but I must confess I lifted it from ‘Weapons and Tactics of the Warsaw Pact’ rather than ‘The Art of War’, broken-down old cold-war warrior that I am.

I’ve never actually begged for reviews in any of my previous stories, but I genuinely would love to know what everyone thinks of this and the next chapter. It would help me decide how to pitch future works. Thanks.





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Chapter 8 — Sensei


Note: Sensei = master

Harry hit the floor with a thump, after what was definitely the longest Portkey journey he had ever taken. Once he came to his senses, he found himself in a large, dark, wooden building. The room was sparsely furnished with only a few wall mounted silk banners to brighten things up.

Sitting cross-legged in front of him was a man. He was obviously oriental, if rather bigger and more rugged looking than Harry had expected. He wore red silk robes, tied at the waist by a long black belt. The man was paying no attention to Harry at all; his total concentration was being given to a bowl of what looked like noodles which he was devouring rapidly with a set of chopsticks. Harry stood and approached him.

“Err, hello…” he began.

The man paused from eating for a brief moment to hold up one finger before returning to his meal. Harry stood looking at him feeling rather confused. Clearly this person didn’t want to be disturbed while eating. Deciding he was the guest here and should bow to the wishes of his host, Harry returned to his duffle bag and sat on it. He then pulled a small book on charms out of a side pocket and began reading.

It was a full ten minutes before the man finished eating. He put down his bowl and approached Harry, who put down his book and stood up to greet the man. Before he could speak the man raised two fingers and silently cast a spell at Harry. The spell hit him before he could react but otherwise seemed to have no effect. He looked at the man who was regarding him without emotion.

“You, I take it, are Harry Potter,” the man said in perfect English.

Harry blinked in surprise. It suddenly occurred to him that the man had cast a translation spell on him so they could both understand each other. He offered a small smile and responded to the somewhat intimidating man. “Yes, I am. Would you be Hiroshi Tamazuki?” he asked.

“I would indeed. My name is more correctly said Tamazuki Hiroshi here in Japan. I am the sensei of this school. Your timing is woeful. In future you will learn never to disturb me during a meal. I am very approachable at any other time but not during meals,” Tamazuki said flatly.

“I’m very sorry. I didn’t know you were eating. Please accept my apologises,” Harry said in what he hoped was a contrite manner. After his conversation with Dumbledore he really didn’t want to face being sent back home to England.

“Now you do know,” Tamazuki said. Although his face was expressionless, Harry had the distinct feeling that the man was laughing at him. That feeling lasted for only a moment before a much more sombre atmosphere prevailed. “I gather from your presence here that my friend Nicholas has passed away?”

“Yes, just a few days ago,” Harry confirmed. He could still barely believe Nick and Perry were actually gone.

“That is most saddening. Nicholas was a good friend and performed many helpful acts for me. He has told me much about you, Harry. I gather you are very powerful magically but have only limited experience in martial arts?”

Harry bridled a little at having his Taekwondo skills referred to as limited, but on reflection they probably were by this man’s standard. “Yes, that’s correct,” he agreed.

Tamazuki nodded. “Normally I would not accept a boy such as yourself for training. Most boys come to me much younger and they are here for eight years. Nicholas begged me to try to teach you as much as I could as fast as I can.” Tamazuki stepped closer and looked Harry straight in the eye. “Are you ready for the challenge?”

“Yes,” Harry said simply. He was determined that if he ever faced a Death Eater again he would be better prepared.

“Well, I am not convinced you are. Do you know exactly what we teach here?” Tamazuki asked.

Harry blinked. It was clear the man was not impressed with him and there was a real risk of him being sent back home. He’d have to be very careful what he said. “You’ll teach me how to fight?” Harry said cautiously.

“I’ll teach you how to be a weapon. We teach three main things here: combat training, magical warfare and mental strength. That is all you will study here. The combination of all three skills can create the most awesome of warriors. Some of the pupils that have left this school have turned into the greatest of heroes: mighty soldiers in the fight for justice and peace. But we run a terrible risk in doing this. Imagine someone with all the skills we teach turning to evil. What a terrible foe that person would be. I have personally taught over a thousand young men, and do you know how many turned to evil?” Tamazuki glared at Harry like he was daring him to come up with the wrong answer.

“Err, none?” Harry guessed.

“Wrong! Three! Out of over one thousand pupils, three have turned to evil. Of those three, one was lured away from the path of righteousness by a young woman with poison in her heart. The other two both suffered great hardships and loss which changed them. This tells us two things, young Potter. Can you guess what they are?”

This time Harry knew he had no hope of answering correctly. He just shook his head.

“One, it tells us that no man has left the gates of this school with the intent to do evil. All three of those I mentioned left with pure hearts. It was circumstances later in life that changed them.” Tamazuki's expression made clear that he still felt shame that his pupils should suffer such a fate. “Two, it teaches us that no matter how hard we try and what precautions we take, sometimes things will turn to shit.”

Harry blinked. He wasn’t sure if he was meant to laugh or not. Judging from the expression on Tamazuki’s face he gathered not. He continued to remain silent.

“So, you will ask yourself,” Tamazuki continued, “how does any man know the heart of another? How does Tamazuki know that his pupil will not use his teachings for evil? The answer — I do not. But what I teach is for my pupils to know their own heart. To look inside themselves and know their own morality. I then ask them to swear that they will follow what is inside them. If they see evil inside them, then I will know and I will banish them from the school instantly.”

“But how will I truly know myself?” Harry asked. “I mean, I sometimes think bad thoughts. How do I know what is right and what is wrong?”

“Ah, but that is not what I asked you,” Tamazuki grinned. “Consider a tiger out hunting. It sees a young deer which it tracks and kills. The deer suffers pain and death, but is the tiger evil for performing this act?”

“Um, no. It’s just obeying its natural instincts,” Harry reasoned.

“Precisely,” Tamazuki agreed. “The tiger may have had young cubs to feed. Would the tiger allow it’s young to starve? No, that act may actually be considered evil. Let us think of another example. Nicholas wrote and told me something of what is happening in your country. An evil lord seeks dominance with the help of his followers who are called Death Eaters, is this correct?”

“Yes,” Harry confirmed. He found himself interested in what Tamazuki would say about Voldemort and his supporters.

“These Death Eaters are pure evil, correct? They kill and torture without mercy. It would be reasonable to kill them all without hesitation, yes?”

“No!” Harry snapped. “Despite what they do, they’re still human. To just kill them would make me as bad as them.”

“But what happens if you have the opportunity to kill a Death Eater and you do not take it? You show mercy to your enemy because you have a good heart. What happens if that Death Eater then goes and kills an innocent? Are you not as responsible for the death of that innocent as the Death Eater?”

Harry was appalled at this idea. “No, look the Death Eater has free will, right? He’s responsible for his own actions. If I gave him a chance and let him live, that doesn’t make me responsible for everything he does after that!” Harry protested.

“But the fact remains, the innocent person is dead because you did not stop the Death Eater when you had the chance. To become a Death Eater a person must be willing to perform terrible acts, I’m told. Why would you think that just by sparing his life he would change?” Tamazuki shook his head. “It is like I said, Harry. Everyone must follow their own heart. Some people’s hearts, however, seek dominance and control. They will destroy anyone who does not bow to their wishes. If they are following their own true path, what can you do to change that?”

“No-one is completely evil,” Harry objected. “There’s always some good in anyone, no matter how well hidden.”

“Very true,” Tamazuki agreed. “But we are not dealing in absolutes. A man may kill for many reasons: religion, politics, even love itself. This does not instantly make them evil. They may take life with the very best intentions. But if you disagree with those intentions, what can you do? You can try reasoning with the person, but if they have already killed to support their views it is unlikely that will succeed. You can protest, but surely you will be killed as well? Or you can try to stop the person. The only criteria for doing this without doubt is that you must know your heart is pure and true.”

“But how can you ever know that for sure?” Harry demanded.

“This is part of what we teach you here, Harry. A wise man once said ‘if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the results of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory you will suffer a defeat. If you know neither yourself nor your enemy you are a fool and will meet defeat in every battle.’ Of course you must find out everything you can about your enemy, but you must know yourself first. This is part of what we will teach you. To look inside yourself and know your own mind and heart.”

Harry for some reason felt a shiver of fear at this.

Tamazuki seemed to pick up on this. “Trust me, Harry. This is not an easy thing to do. All men fear what they will find inside themselves. But before we get to that, I must know what is inside you. Before I agree to train you, I must enter your mind and see what your intentions are, and whether you have the strength of will to survive. Nicholas said that you have already had some training at protecting your mind. Will you lower your mental shields please and let me in?”

Seeing no choice, he reluctantly lowered all his Occlumency shields, even those surrounding that small part of his mind that Voldemort had touched when he was just fifteen months old. Instantly, he felt Tamazuki’s presence in his head. He could feel the man sifting through his memories, rejecting some and examining others. He had visions of half-remembered events and a tantalising glimpse of a woman with long red hair and green eyes. But no image stayed very long and he was rapidly becoming disorientated. His mind seemed to be racing at a hundred miles an hour, and things were becoming a blur. Then, as suddenly as it started, it all stopped. Harry looked up to see Tamazuki staring at him.

“I have decided,” he said in a grim voice. “As I said, I owe Nicholas much. I will, therefore, give you a year of education. In exactly a year's time you must return to your home, but in the meantime I will teach you what I can. I warn you now; it will be extremely hard, both physically and mentally.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you very much.”

“I think I should also warn you, Harry, that you have a problem. A great evil lives within you and you must destroy it if you ever hope to live a normal life,” Tamazuki said. “Keep your Occlumency shields in place at all times. Do not listen to the voice in your head for it will feed you lies.” He then clapped his hands loudly. A man dressed in similar robes to Tamazuki entered and bowed low.

“This man will take you to your accommodations,” Tamazuki explained. “We will talk again another time.”

Harry imitated the bow he had just witnessed and, picking up his bag, followed the man out of the hall. He couldn’t suppress the feeling of dread that was rising in him at Tamazuki’s warning.


Saturday, 5 August 1995

With his back aching, Harry lowered himself down gratefully onto his sleeping mat. It had taken a month but he was just beginning to adjust to the hectic schedule Tamazuki’s school ran to. It had been a cultural shock on many levels; from the living arrangements to the food, it was completely different from anything he knew.

If the practical arrangements were unusual to him then the training was something else. He rose at six o’clock each morning for exercises and martial arts training. If Harry had thought he had a good grounding in martial arts, he had quickly realised he had been deluding himself. He found even the younger pupils were far ahead of him, and he regularly found himself beaten and bruised by boys three or four years younger than him. He was also surprised to find the school didn’t teach a specific style of martial arts. Instead, he found himself learning a mix of different disciplines with his instructors teaching him moves and throws that they thought would best suit his style. Harry’s glowing triumph so far had been pinning a twelve year-old boy half his size to the floor two days ago.

From unarmed combat they then moved on to fighting with weapons. He had begun with a simple club called a jutte, then a larger staff-type weapon called a bo. Neither of these weapons were particularly dangerous, at least not in Harry’s hands. His classmates, however, seemed quite capable of beating him black and blue when they used them. He was gradually improving however, and in the last week they had started training with the wakizashi, a short sword. To prevent serious injuries the blades were magically cushioned, which Harry was immensely grateful for. Without the protection spell he probably would have ended up being sold for sixty pence a slice at Sainsbury’s.

The weapon everyone was itching to get their hands on was the katana, the sacred long sword of the samurai. This blade was one of the reasons they were all here. The samurai traditionally went into battle carrying two swords; a katana and a smaller blade such as a wakizashi or the similar tanto. But everyone in the camp was magical. In battle they would discard the smaller blade and carry a wand instead. They would fight with steel in one hand and magic in the other, which is why they would be known by a different name. If they graduated, they would become tsuesenshi — wand warriors.

Although that was everyone’s dream, for Harry it seemed an impossible goal. He was a long way behind and everyone seemed far superior to him in training. He was given hope by two things: his magical ability and his new best friend.

Harry had quickly discovered that as inferior as he was in hand-to-hand and weapon training, he was superior in magical duelling. Many of his classmates who had been openly asking what he was doing at such a prestigious school quickly shut up when facing him with a wand. None of the pupils came near him in ability and only a few of the more experienced instructors could rival him either. Tamazuki himself had duelled with Harry several times and the results had been spectacular, if a little one-sided in the sensei’s favour. Never the less, Harry gained the respect of his classmates who now appreciated his talents.

The other thing which had greatly helped Harry was his new roommate, Kato Riku. Riku came from a village near Osaka and had quickly become a good friend to Harry. Although a couple of years older than Harry, they were roughly the same height and build. Riku wore his long black hair tried back into a ponytail and his warm, brown eyes seemed to radiate calm. He’d initially helped Harry adjust to all cultural changes (Harry had feared he was going to starve until Riku taught him how to use chopsticks) and had provided encouragement when things had become overwhelming.

The two young men had also found they were able to help each other greatly in training. While Riku was a master swordsman and martial artist, his magical training was sadly lacking. Harry had spent many hours helping his new friend, showing him the correct wand movements and incantations. He was surprised to learn that not many wizards or witches in Japan used a wand. Most practiced wandless magic which, while a very useful ability, greatly limited their power and casting speed. Wands were normally reserved for the upper-classes and royalty, he learnt. Harry was very glad that this idea had never occurred to the pure-bloods back home.

In exchange for his help with magic, Riku undertook additional sparring with him and taught him how to use the various weapons. Fortunately, both of them appeared to have some talent as teachers, and they were reaping the benefits of each other’s help. Harry was beginning to think he actually had a chance of graduating successfully, if only a small one.

Even without the additional training, Harry felt he would have taken to new roommate. Riku was quiet and unassuming, but had a good head on his shoulders. The two frequently talked about their lives before it was time to sleep, and Harry was building a great respect for his new friend. Riku had also had a hard life. His parents had been killed when he was six, and he had been taken in by his uncle. Unlike Harry’s experience, Riku’s uncle had been a good man and had encouraged him to start combat training. It was his guardian’s influence which had brought him to Tamazuki’s school and encouraged him to be the best he could. Harry felt there was definitely more to the story then he had been told but didn’t want to push his friend into revealing more than he was comfortable with.

Tonight, Harry was very tied and looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep. He had just settled down when he heard his roommate’s voice call across to him.

“Harry, are you still awake?” he asked.

“Since I only just this second laid down, surprisingly, yes I am,” Harry replied. He really was not in the mood for conversation.

“You did most admirably in sword training today, my friend. You are definitely improving,” Riku continued, obviously not picking up on Harry’s sarcasm.

“Thank you,” Harry replied. “You picked up the blasting charm pretty quick today, too. It’s been a busy day for both of us, we should get some sleep.”

Silence reigned for nearly a whole minute.

“Why did you come to this school, Harry?” Riku asked, just as Harry had started to drift off to sleep. Harry opened his eyes and sighed. Clearly his friend was in the mood to talk.

“I’ve told you before,” Harry explained with as much patience as he was able to muster. “An evil would-be Dark Lord has arisen in my country and I need to be ready to fight him.”

“But why you? Why is it you who must confront him?”

This brought Harry up short. How much did he want to tell his friend about the prophecy? Maybe it would be better to just avoid the subject.

“He killed my mum and dad and was responsible for the death of my adopted grandparents. Why shouldn’t it be me?” he reasoned.

“Revenge can be a two-edged sword, Harry,” Riku replied quietly. “As for why not you: you are a fifteen year-old boy. Do they not have officers of the law in your country, people whose job it is to fight such evil?”

“This man, Voldemort, has tried to kill me three times now. Even if I didn’t want to go after him, I’m pretty sure he’s coming after me. I need to be ready.”

There was a long silence but Harry had found thoughts of sleep had deserted him.

“What about you?” he asked. “I know your uncle wanted you to come here, is that the only reason?”

“No.” For a second, Harry thought Riku would say no more but after a pause he continued. “I’m not sure how much I should tell you of this for your own safety. Before I was born a prophecy was made stating I would be destined to fight against great evil. A gang of warlords, fearing the words related to them, killed my parents and tried to kill me. My sister and I were lucky to survive.”

For a second Harry was too shocked to respond.

“You have a prophecy made about you?” he managed to gasp.

“Do not dismiss all prophecy, Harry. I would be first to admit most of them are nonsense, but sadly this one appears to hold some truth,” Riku said slightly defensively.

“No, no! You don’t understand! A prophecy was made about me as well. It stated I was the only one able to defeat Voldemort, that’s why he came after my family,” Harry blurted. In the dark he could just make out Riku sit bolt upright.

“We have both had prophecies made about us?” he said in disbelief. “Remarkable. We live on opposite sides of the world yet we are brothers in purpose. Maybe this is why Tamazuki Sensei put us together?”

Harry laughed softly. “Yeah, maybe. We could put up a sign outside, ‘pawns of prophecy only’. Mind you, we could find out tomorrow that everyone in the camp has had a prophecy made about them!”

“I doubt that, Harry,” Riku chuckled. “But seriously, a ‘pawn of prophecy’? Is that how you see us?”

“That’s how I feel sometimes,” he replied gloomily. “If that stupid seer hadn’t spouted all that rubbish in the first place, my life would have been completely different. My parents would be alive, I would have somewhere to call a home, and no bloodthirsty, snake-eyed lunatic would be trying to kill me…”

“Maybe that is true,” Riku said in a sympathetic voice, “but can you definitely say, without fear of contradiction, that the same events might not have occurred? Your parents fought against this Dark Lord, yes? Who is to say that they might not have been killed anyway?”

Harry sighed. “It’s possible, I suppose. But really, it’s too late for me to be thinking about this sort of thing. Let’s get some sleep and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

“An excellent idea, Harry. Good night.”

“Night, Riku.”

The silence lasted for thirty seconds this time before Harry sat up.

“You never said you had a sister, Riku,” he said.

“Naturally not, my friend” Riku replied. “My sister is young and very pretty. A handsome young hero such as yourself could not fail to impress her. I have no wish to have to kill you, Harry, to defend my sister’s honour.”

Harry blinked. Such a comment required either a thousand word reply or none at all. He settled for a sarcastic ‘thanks!’ before he settled down to sleep again. He hoped when he found the girl of his dreams, she didn’t have some overprotective prat of a brother making life difficult.
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