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Harry Potter and the Nexus of Magic by guardian
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Harry Potter and the Nexus of Magic

guardian

Disclaimer: I'd like it if JKR would give the copyrights to all things HP to Goldy, Lynney, wetback, KateJ. (sorry ppl, I can't put everyone's names in here) or heck, even to me, but I don't think its going to happen. Oh, well at least there's Portkey.org. We're free here!

A/N: If you think giving Harry some fighting skills is a bad idea You really wont like what I'm going to do to him later in the story *evil grin* This chapter sets up a scene in a later chapter.

The New Neighbor

Harry woke up early next morning, drenched in cold sweat, heart beating madly against his ribs and his brain wrapped in foggy feeling of terror. From the familiar feeling he understood that he'd just had a rather remarkable nightmare, but try as he might, he couldn't remember a single thing. That didn't make him feel better about it. He'd rather remember what the nightmare was about so he could at least try to understand what was tormenting him now. 'Fear of the unknown,' he thought. When Voldemort came back from the dead and killed Cedric, he had some first-class nightmares too, but he had remembered those. He remembered almost every nightmare he had ever had. 'So why not this one?'

He brought his hand up to his forehead and touched his scar. It was feeling normal - no burning, no prickling, no anything. It was almost a year now from the last time he had felt anything from his scar - last time being Voldemort possessing him. That had felt worse than a Cruciatus, pain so strong that death had seemed like a blessing. But he didn't die that day. Instead he had somehow driven Voldemort out and evidently the bastard had now no desire to get in his head again. 'Is he really afraid of me? Did it hurt Him so much he keeps out of my mind and blocks me out of his own with Occlumency even if He could spy on me through the connection, find out my plans, my location? It would be really easy for him to get rid of me that way - just possess me and jump out the window. No more Harry Potter, no more threat to his power. So why is he not even trying? What the hell are you up to, you bastard?'

He got up and unblocked the door, then opened the window to let in some fresh air. He took some clean clothes from his school trunk that he had left unpacked last evening and dragged himself to the bathroom. He peeled off the sweat-soaked clothes and stepped into the shower. Though he usually liked to take a hot shower in the morning today he opted for the cold treatment hoping it would help to clear the fog from his brain. The cold water gave his system a small shock at first, covering him with a freezing sensation from head to toes, small shivers running all over him. Then he started to like the feeling. It indeed helped to clear his head, washing the terror of the night down the drain with the sweat and shower gel. Harry rubbed himself clean and jumped out of the shower, feeling invigorated and energized. The problem, as he saw it, was that it was still rather early, the sun barely having risen above the horizon.

'Too early to use the mirror and try to talk to Hermione. She's still asleep for sure, having probably spent half the night abusing some poor book that had caught her attention. There's not really anyone around anymore she could suggest informing about my new nightmare …Sirius - gone, Dumbledore - dead. There wasn't anyone else around I trusted with such things besides those two. Except Ron and Hermione, but I'm not going to ruin their last chance at having some peace of mind before we go looking for what's left of Tom's soul.'

He walked downstairs and out the backdoor to enjoy some peace and quiet in the garden himself before the Dursleys wake up and start to make his life as miserable as they could. He stood there - eyes closed and took a deep breath of the cool morning air. He must have stood there for a minute or so before he started to notice some strange noises that the cool morning breeze was carrying to his ears. The closest thing to the 'swishes' and 'wooshes' he heard was probably a broomstick going at high speed. He popped his eyes open and took a look around.

He wasn't the only one who was up and about early this morning. The new owner of Privet Drive No. 3 was in his backyard clad in a white martial arts gi and twirling a 2 meters long wooden pole with astonishing speed. Harry found himself mesmerized by the flowing movements of the young dark-haired man as the almost dance-like performance continued. Thrusts, twirls, blocks, sweeps, leaps and rolls were performed with grace and speed Harry didn't think a human was capable of. He felt a small stitch of jealousy, wanting to possess the same speed and strength and fighting perfection. The dance went on and on until Harry, standing there, fascinated, lost the track of time.

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon's voice suddenly roared into his ear making him jump with shock. " I DON'T FEED YOUR LAZY ARSE FOR GAZING AROUND! GET INSIDE AND START PREPARING THE BREAKFAST!" Harry saw Vernon Dursley stand next to him, fists up and face the color of a ripe tomato. Somehow the Elephant Man had managed to sneak up to him. Vernon Dursley took his breakfast very seriously and if it wasn't waiting for him when he came downstairs in the morning, he usually got very angry. At Harry, naturally.

"As I'll be leaving your house after the month is over, I think it's high time you learned how to cook your own breakfast, uncle Vernon!" Harry bit back angrily. "I'm done slaving for you lot!" He was feeling rather defiant after the cold shower and the show next-doors had got his adrenaline up a notch, too.

"GET IN THE KITCHEN NOW, BOY, OR I'LL LOCK YOU UP FOR THE MONTH WITH NO FOOD!" Vernon screamed, almost foaming at the mouth now, his moustache glistening with spit.

"Sorry, uncle, but now that my friends are just a pop away, that threat isn't very….well, intimidating - now is it?" Harry turned around and started marching away, deciding to go for a walk in the park or something…anything away from his uncle.

He had taken two steps at the most when he was spun around and two beefy, fat hands camped around his throat. Harry found Vernon's face not an inch from his own, bloodshot eyes staring into his with maniacal gleam. With the strength of a madman Vernon was strangling him, holding him up on his toes, unable to do anything. Harry felt paralyzed by the crazed stare, like a rabbit looking at the headlights coming screaming at him knowing the doom they carried but unable to move a muscle. Vernon's squeeze was cutting off his breath. This time, Harry's brain wondered for a moment, the electric jolt that had released him from Vernon's grasp last year wasn't happening. He even wondered, if Vernon would have noticed it. It was precious oxygen wasted on thought process the body could not afford. Harry's ears started buzzing and vision began to go fuzzy from lack of oxygen. 'Well, I did wonder which one of them would kill me first, Vernon or Voldemort. Now I know…"

"I'll show you intimidating, you freak," he heared Vernon hiss as if through a long tunnel. "I'll teach you how to…"

Whatever else Vernon intended to teach him was not revealed, however. There was a sharp CRACK!!! and Harry instantly felt the hands around his throat fall away. Harry fell down on his hands and knees, grasping for breath and swallowing hard. After a moment his vision seemed to return and he looked around. Vernon was lying on the lawn out cold, a small bluish circle the size of a coin on his left temple.

'Great! What have I done now? More underage wizardry? Wonder if this qualifies as self defense…' He then noticed something else - a 2 meters long pole lying n the grass next to Vernon's unconscious body. With mouth open from the surprise, he looked towards house No.3. The young man was walking towards the 1,5 meter tall hedge separating the two properties and jumped over it without any visible effort.

"Sorry about that, neighbor," the man said to Harry, nodding towards Vernon. "Lost the grip on my staff for a moment. Terribly sorry." Harry looked into his blue eyes with amazement and he could have sworn the blue eyes gave him a wink that was too quick to consciously register. "You OK, kid? Let me give you a hand."

He grasped the offered hand by the wrist and was pulled to his feet. The other man's grasp on his own hand felt strange. Like it was exactly as strong as it needed to be - he got the feeling that the owner of the hand knew exactly how much strength one needs to apply to help another to his feet, pull the arm out of the socket, or even break it if need be.

"Thanks!" Harry managed to croak through his sore throat. He slid his arm from the man's wrist into a firm handshake. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you, sir."

"My pleasure, kid." The young man replied, looking with his clear blue eyes straight into Harry's green ones. Harry had suddenly a feeling like he was facing Snape again and about to get his head lobotomized by Legilimency. Nothing like that happened, however. "Call me Bruce," the new neighbor said and gave Harry a reassuring smile. Bruce slid his foot beneath the staff, kicked it into air and deftly caught it. "Well I'll better get back to my own turf now before I get shot for trespassing. Stay safe!" He walked back to the hedge and jumped over it again.

Harry suddenly did something he never would have believed he possessed the courage to do. "Hey Bruce!" he called out. He walked to the hedge and looked at Bruce, feeling a bit nervous. "I'm stuck with my uncle and aunt for the month. You might have gathered that they don't really like me much and it would be really nice if I had an excuse to spend as little time with them as I could."

The young man smiled at Harry, guessing already what the kid was going to ask him. "So what's on your mind, Harry?"

"Well, I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to teach me how to fight - you know - self defense."

"And why would you want to learn how to fight?" The man's face was very serious now. "Teaching martial arts is something that I will not do without a good reason. Martial arts, like many skills, can be used either for good…or for something else. A teacher is responsible for teaching his student, but also for how the student uses the skills he is taught. Tell me - why should I teach you?"

Harry rubbed his neck that was still a bit red and bruised and looked Bruce straight in the eyes as he said: "Well, the main reason is that my life might depend on it, as you no doubt saw and heard just a minute ago. I'd rather not have it repeated again when there's no-one around to save me - I cant be that lucky all the time.

Bruce nodded at this. "Definitely a good reason. And what's the other reason?"

"Well," Harry grinned, "what you did there with the staff - it just looked wicked cool!"

"Well, I guess that's a good reason too!" Bruce laughed. "OK, I'll train you, but I'll tell you right away that a month won't be enough to teach you everything. You'll have to choose what you want to focus on - like learning how to fight with a sword, staff or unarmed, or maybe learn how to pin down and throw your enemies. Everything has its advantages, but I'd like you to make the choices as you know best what you could be facing in the future. Think of it and let me know tomorrow morning at the same time here - I'll be waiting for you."

Harry took a quick look at his watch and saw that it was already late enough to contact Hermione with the mirror without the fear of retribution for waking her. "Right, see you around, Bruce!" He ran through the kitchen and up the stairs to his room, closing and barricading the door again. He jumped to his trunk and pulled out the old mirror. He sat down on the bed and looked in the mirror.

"Hermione Granger!" he said clearly.

A/N: Before you even go there, NO, BRUCE'S PARENTS WERE NOT KILLED BY A THUG IN A DARK ALLEY! This is not THAT kind of a story, sorry to disappoint you. Go read C.Cowboy's stories, they'll make you feel better, I promise!