Unity Chapter 4
Title: Unity Comes in Sets of 2
Author: alaena_flame
Genre: General/Humor
Chapter: 4/?
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The usual
Characters: Mainly Seigaku regulars
Summary: [POT X HP Cross] The Seigaku regulars were invited to a wizards’ tournament by mistake and chaos breaks loose as the wizards discover that their honorary team has no magic…or do they?
FF Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2660843/4/
“…” = English
(…) = Japanese
Chapter 4
London, or so the Seigaku tennis team had long since decided, was officially the strangest place in the world. Not only had they just waltzed through a solid brick wall into a street selling the most unusual things they had ever-or never-heard of, but when they trooped back through it no one in the Leaky Cauldron so much as batted an eye. On the one hand, that could perhaps be seen as a good thing-Tezuka in particular did not feel particularly inclined at the moment to deal with the overly easily excitable people who composed most of the human population-but on the other hand…it certainly did make one heck of a strange statement about Westerners.
Suffice to say, tennis practice would no longer be held against that particular brick wall.
“So how’d ya like the alley?” the bartender asked as they filed past him towards the stairs, grinning his somewhat toothless grin at them. “Best of its kind, I hear.”
Eiji pulled a face, searching through his frantically through his mental, Japanese-English dictionary for the right words to describe the nauseating feeling he had when watching Inui drifting through the bookstore like a man through heaven. He came up with a blank. It was too terrifying for words.
“It was an interesting experience,” Oishi put in quickly, wondering why the majority of his teammates had such expressions of woe on their faces. “The people were very helpful.”
Nodding sagely, Tom waved them on, turning his head in the direction of the tavern door as yet more customers trickled in off of the London streets.
(I never knew England was such a weird place,) Momo muttered under his breath to Ryoma as they followed the rest of the Seigaku regulars up the rickety stairs. (Otherwise I might have thought harder about coming…)
The younger boy just rolled his eyes. He’d never seen much point in the whole ‘if only but no can do’ type of contemplation. After all, what could be more pointless?
(I think it would be best if we all got a little rest,) Oishi announced, glancing over the varies expressions of woe, shock, dreamy joy [he shuddered, that look was not meant for Inui’s face], weariness, and contemplation adorning his teammates faces. (Oh, but before I forget-here,) he pulled a stack of thin, black bound books from the bag he had been carrying since his reappearance, smiling enthusiastically with sudden excitement, (I got these planners so that we could all keep track of dates and times so we don’t forget things. And it includes a writing section if you want to keep a journal about our trip!)
Blinking, Eiji accepted the book his doubles partner was handing him, stared at it a moment, then squealed in delight, (Oh look! Such a cute kitty nya! And its eyes are blue!)
(Eh? What are you talking about, Eiji-sempai?) Momo asked, brandishing his own book as the mild look of horror brought about by the thought of being required to write a journal vanished to be replaced with confusion. (It’s not a cat. It’s this…weird animal with round ears and stripes! And…well…its front legs are a lot shorter than its hind legs…anyways, it’s definitely not a cat.)
(No, mine is definitely a cat nyah! Fuji! What’s yours?)
Glancing at the cover curiously, the tensai tapped it thoughtfully, (It seems to be a night sky with paler shades in the background where the sun is still barely visible. Then there’s the silhouette of someone-it looks like whoever it is is wearing a cloak.)
(Are they all different then?) Momo concluded, scratching the back of his head. (That’s neat, Oishi-sempai)
Turning to stare at them, Oishi frowned, (What? Different? But all the books I bought had pictures of dogs on them… I thought they were very well done…?)
(Maybe you should get your eyes checked, Oishi-sempai) Ryoma muttered, gazing down at a small figure silhouetted against a crimson backdrop who was flanked by leathery wings. It certainly didn’t look like any dog he had ever seen before.
Shrugging, he tucked it under his arm, swung his racket over his shoulder, and walked past the others to get to his designated room. He wasn’t exactly tired, per say, but more time to sleep was always a good thing. The time difference certainly wasn’t helping the matter…
X
The problem with disturbing one’s patterns of sleep of course was that sleep was a rather irritable mistress and it did not take well to being prodded. Thus it was that when one was forced to change one’s resting schedule one had a tendency to be weary beyond belief, lie in bed for hours, and still be staring blankly up at the ceiling at the end of it.
Growling in frustration, he rolled over onto his side-to be presented with another smooth, unblemished, and undeniably boring surface. This was so not his day…
Sitting up finally he looked around the room. Momoshiro was sprawled over the entirety of his bed, a bit of saliva trickling from the corner of his widely snoring mouth. Caught between grimacing and laughing-maybe he should go borrow a camera from Fuji-sempai-Ryoma continued his survey. Kaidoh was presumably asleep, he couldn’t really tell with his teammate’s face turned away from him, and then there was Inui…crouched by the window by a small, portable electric stove where several glass beakers stood proudly under the sun’s light, bubbling as though they were each trying to win a contest. Shuddering, he couldn’t help but stare at the disturbing scene before slipping out from under his covers and tiptoeing to the door. Thankfully whoever it was who had last entered hadn’t completely closed the door so he was able to push it open a little further and edge into the hallway undetected. Breathing a sigh of relief he glanced over at the door to the room the other half of the team occupied before heading for the stairs. Funny, that door had been open too.
x-X-x
Sitting in one of the Leaky Cauldron’s many rooms, Nick Tanglewood of the Ministry of Magic’s sports and entertainment department wondered how he could have gotten himself into this mess. He had been sent to the muggle air port the day before to pick up one of the foreign teams coming to participate in the National NGW-and it wasn’t just any team either, it was the specially invited team who had been called due to collected news of their amazing talents-only it had turned out the team was now composed of wizards after all but muggle tennis stars… Burying his face in his hands, he groaned. It had only gotten worse from there.
It was technically against the rules to remove teams once they had accepted their invitations, but he had his fellow ‘welcoming committee’ had decided to give the lot a chance to show whether or not they had magical capabilities, but tension was running high and he had been assigned the task of simply erasing their memories for now while the others reported the unfortunate mistake to the Ministry and asked for a little sidestepping in regards to the rules. He had been glad at first not to be the one who had to face the fires at the Ministry, but…
Peering out between his fingers, he stared forlornly at the mirror that stood against the wall opposite him. The beautifully crafted piece looked blankly back at him, the usually overly talkative mouth kept shut by an irritated silencing charm. It didn’t stop it from twisting and contorting his image this way and that as he looked though so he closed his eyes again. No one needed to see his face stretched into the shape of a seven pointed star.
He had been so close-what had happened? He was an expert at memory charms! He had worked as an Obliviator for years before deciding he would rather be a part of the more lively and less stressful sports department! And yet…
Scrunching up his face, he recalled how he had been standing outside one of the Japanese tennis team’s rooms. He had cracked open one of the doors and peered inside at its occupants. The two beds closer to the door were hard to see, so he had focused his attention on the farther two. The only problem was that one of these was occupied by nothing more detailed than a sheet covered lump, which made three highly difficult targets. That left the fourth and final bed whose occupant was-much to Tanglewood’s relief or despair, he couldn’t tell which-sitting with his back against a pillow propped up on the headboard, reading a book.
“Well, here goes nothing,” he had muttered to himself, withdrawing his wand from his pocket and aiming it carefully. “Obliviate.”
But nothing had happened. There was a slight hissing sound and his wand had grown warm in his hands, causing him to nearly drop it, and in the room the brunette with the book continued to read, flipping the pages with leisurely flicks of the fingers while humming something under his breath. And that was it. In disbelief he had tried it several more times, but the results had been the same.
Giving up wasn’t something he made a habit of, but there were some things that couldn’t be helped, so he had moved on to the next room, hoping for a better chance. Looking into this room he had seen one giant mess of a bed, a small boy who was staring at the ceiling as though he might be able to drill holes into it if he just looked hard enough, one obscured back-and a very tall young man with spiked up hair who had positioned himself in front of the window with an assortment of bubbling beakers.
And in these beakers he had caught the glimpse of the reflection of his own face.
Panicking, he had fled back to this room.
Life was so unfair… Now he would have to report a failure. It might not exactly be morally right of him, but he was starting to hope the others returned with the message that even muggles couldn’t just be withdrawn.
But that was preposterous.
x-X-x
Ryoma had concluded after extended contemplation that the strange alley through the brick wall was indeed a very unusual place. He had found the entrance open when he had gone downstairs and slipped back through it since he didn’t feel like battling the traffic out the pub’s other end for the time being. There hadn’t been much of a chance to look around before when Inui was running loose in a bookstore full of bad ideas after all.
As for why he had elected it as a very unusual place… First off, it was full of weird people. Not a single one of them seemed to be wearing what could reasonably be considered day to day clothes. They looked more like they were wearing multicolored variations of his father’s usual garb-and that, in his onion, was a folly and a half. But as if that wasn’t already enough they completed the image with conical hats with spreading brims that added several inches to their height but seemed even more unconventional than the clothes. One would think they’d never heard of good old baseball caps. Second of all there was the merchandize, something he had taken note of on his first trip through the alley but only now got to examine more closely. He did not find this a helpful thing to do seeing as the first thing he took a close look at turned out to be tiny, black ‘beetle eyes’. Reeling back from the display, dignity forgotten, he made a beeline for the safety of a shop selling cleaning tools. It must have been one extremely effective set of tools because it was drawing one of the largest crowds he had seen yet.
“Hey, don’t push,” a boy not much older than himself laughed as he bumped into them. “It’s not as though anyone’s going to run off with it now, is it?”
“I guess not,” Ryoma mumbled under his breath, eyes scanning for a path of escape. He didn’t see any. The crowd had already doubled in size since he’d joined it.
“You can’t blame him,” another youth laughed, clearing a way and pulling both Ryoma and the other boy forward so they could get a clear view of the broom in the shop window. “I mean, just look at it, isn’t it just one of the best you’ve ever seen?”
“Uh…it’s a very…” Ryoma stared at the broom for a long moment, at a loss for words, “…nice broom…?”
“You bet it is!” the boy exclaimed, slapping him heartily on the shoulder with an enormous grin. “The latest model! Isn’t she a beauty? Her performance is supposed to be phenomenal!”
Ryoma just stared at him, wondering if the boy had gone out of his mind. Really, didn’t he know that there were about a million things more exciting than sweeping floors? Like tennis, for example. And yet such enthusiasm…his mother must be one happy woman. Thankfully, the boy had apparently been gifted with a short attention span and Ryoma wasn’t forced to find something else to say.
Turning, he took a moment to view the mass of eager faces and shoving bodies with horror before turning his attention fully to the task of escaping the hordes. It was…not fn. He had to keep one hand clamped tightly on top of his head to keep his hat from being knocked off of his head and the other hand raised protectively in front of him lest he receive a face full of passerby.
Catching a brief glimpse of the bookstore Inui had found so very delightful out of the corner of his eye, Ryoma darted towards it and dove through the front doors. Wonderful, wonderful silence greeted him and he let out a sigh of relief. Who would have thought he would ever come to appreciate a bookstore so much?
“Why do we have so many books this year?” a loud, distraught wail echoed through the peace and quiet, making him twitch. “I mean, I swear all the teachers have doubled the number or something!”
“Oh Ron,” a girl’s voice sighed in exasperation, “that’s what happens when you get older. And they didn’t double it, it’s just a few more than we used to have. Not to mention reading is good for you-you’ll learn a lot more this way.”
“At least we don’t have to use the Monster Books anymore,” a third voice added in an apparent attempt to cheer up the first.
The first one paused for a moment, “Yeah. Did you know, it almost took a chunk out of my hand when I tried to pack it away!”
Blinking, Ryoma couldn’t help but look up and around. Monster book? A chunk out of his hand? But there were only three people in the aisle beside him-a gangly redhead, a girl with bushy, brown hair, and a boy with black hair and glasses. What caught his attention though was how the latter two were dressed like normal, sane people.
“At least they didn’t fire him,” the one with the glasses noted, a slight frown appearing on his face. The other two adopted solemn expressions as they nodded in agreement.
Leaning against the side of the shelf at the end of their aisle, Ryoma was starting to feel like one of his Japanese teammates listening to fluent English for the first time.
“Well, I don’t think Dumbledore would fire him,” the girl said finally, hefting the load of books she was carrying higher up in her arms, “even if they decided not to let him teach he would always be Hogwarts’ gamekeeper.”
Ryoma’s head shot up and he leaned farther around the shelf, “Excuse me, did you say Hogwarts?”
Three pairs of startled eyes turned to stare at him. Stepping fully into the aisle, he waited patiently for an answer. It was about time there were answers anyway.
“Yeah, we did,” the one with the glasses blinked. “Are you a new student?”
Ryoma stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, “No, I’m from Seigaku. We were invited for some kind of tournament.”
“Seigaku?” the redhead frowned slightly in confusion. “I’ve never heard of that school. Is it far away?”
Ryoma’s mouth turned up at the corners into a smirk, “It’s in Japan.”
He was rewarded with three startled faces. He let it be for a few seconds, enjoying their surprise, but it wasn’t answering questions so he felt obligated to snap them out of it. Pity.
“Do you know why the people who brought us here kept saying the word ‘wizard’?”
Now they were looking at him like he had grown another head. He stared expectantly back at them, impatience building.
Suddenly the girl’s face lit up with understanding, “Oh, you see, ‘wizard’ is our word for people who use magic.”
Ryoma blinked. He knew what wizards were, he just didn’t know why people here kept calling themselves by the word.
“Are you wizards then?” he asked finally, deciding it best not to point out that he could speak perfect English, having grown up in the States.
“Of course,” the redhead laughed. “We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t. Muggles don’t get into Diagon Alley-not unless someone brings them anyway, and the Ministry has rules against that.”
“Did you say you were invited for a tournament?” the one with the glasses asked suddenly, sounding unexpectedly curious for a member of the ‘school’ the regulars were supposed to be housed at.
Ryoma shrugged, tugging at his cap and glancing back out the bookstore’s glass front at the darkening alley beyond, “Yeah.”
“So…why did you ask about Hogwards?”
“My team and I are supposed to be staying there,” stuffing his hands into his pockets, he turned away from them. “I have to go.”
He could feel them watching him all the way out of the bookstore. It was a good thing he was used to having spectators.
x-X-x
“Give it a few days, they say,” he muttered to himself, disgruntled. “It’s easy when you don’t have to be the one tracking ‘em down.”
There was something about eight teenage athletes that made them extraordinarily hard to keep an eye on-espeically when they had the habit of going disobligingly in their separate ways whenever the day progressed for more than a few hours. The infuriating thing was that they didn’t even seem to be doing it on purpose. Still, Tanglewood was not a happy man-he had been screeched at just that morning by a woman who had found him hiding in one of the large cauldrons she was selling, not to mention that gigantic, sixteen legged spider that had taken an experimental bite at him while he stood pressed to the side of its cage. One would think it would have been better trained!
Which, of course, just all came back to the same problem. He had been observing the boys for a few days now, and so far that had not exhibited any particular signs of magical ability. On the other hand they had managed to get into Diagon Alley on several occasions, though mostly it was while others were using the gate. There was that one time that Tom the bartender had told him about-something along the lines of them hitting a fuzzy ball against the wall and the wall opening-but there was little evidence of anything more than a malfunction of the gate. How could some strange, muggle sport open the gate anyway?
Now, staring at one of their rooms’ doors, he straightened his shoulders with a resigned sigh and knocked. If this went well, he wouldn’t have to deal with them for the rest of his life. It was a beautiful thought.
X
Looking up from where he had been writing down a list of everything he thought he might need to purchase in the matter of emergency supplies, Oishi blinked. He could have sworn he heard someone knocking on the door, but the sound had been brief and light, more likely a careless passerby than an actual request for entry. Still, there was the possibility that it was actually a person, and in that case it would be most impolite to leave him or her standing unanswered. Looking around the room, he noted that Tezuka was reading, Fuji was engrossed in an album of moving pictures-some kind of new, English technology, and Eiji…was taking a catnap, something he had been doing consistently in rebellion against the time zones since they had arrived. Most of their teammates probably would have appreciated his systematic hour of peaceful slumber, if it weren’t for the fact that he stayed up to midnight every night just as systematically.
Smiling slightly at the way his partner seemed to be mumbling something about toothpastes and fruits in his sleep, he moved his planner onto the bed beside him and stood, heading for the door. Carefully stepping over the third floorboard from the door-it creaked like a hideously rusted hinges whenever pressure was applied despite his inability to discern a problem-he turned the handle and opened it.
The door swung creakily open to reveal, much to the vice captain’s surprise, Nick Tanglewood. He stared for a moment before remembering himself and straightening to give a small bow.
“Mr. Tanglewood,” he smiled, speaking a little slowly in an attempt to enunciate clearly. He knew the man could speak Japanese, but there was a harassed look about his face that made Oishi feel the need to spare him the trouble. “Is there something we can do for you?”
The man hesitated a moment, looking nervously from side to side before refocusing his gaze on Oishi’s curious face, “Well-ah…yes, you see…some-some information from the…the Ministry has come and…well, I need to speak to you and your teammates.”
“Well,” Oishi blinked, “I am sure there is no problem. If you would please wait a few minutes…?”
“Ah, of course,” bobbing his head with a strained smile, the man backed hurriedly away from the door. “I…will be waiting at the meeting room we spoke in your first day here.”
“All right, can you give us a few minutes?”
“Of course,” bobbing up and down again, the man scurried away and disappeared into the stairwell. Oishi looked after him with a puzzled frown, shook his head, and turned back into the room.
(Ah, Tezuka,) he said, noticing the captain’s inquiring gaze, (Mr. Tanglewood says some news has come from the Ministry and he wants to speak to us in a few minutes in the room we spoke in the first day. I’m not sure exactly what kind of news he’s talking about though…)
Nodding, Tezuka snapped his book shut and stood, (Will you get the others?)
Looking up from his album to watch as Oishi left the room, Fuji smiled thoughtfully, (I think this is going to be a rather interesting meeting, don’t you?)
Glancing at him, Tezuka frowned slightly and adjusted his glasses, (Wake Kikumaru.)
Shrugging, Fuji got of his bed and walked over to stand next to Eiji’s. Pausing a moment, he tilted his head slightly as though in thought before clearing his throat and announcing in a clear and cheerful voice, (Eiji, I brought you Inui’s new juice. It’s the best one he’s made so far. Here, I’ll just-)
(No!) leaping straight out of bed, the redhead lurched instinctively away from Fuji with a panicked shriek. (Get it away from me! I don’t want it!)
Foot catching on the corner of his sheets, the redhead let out an even louder yell of pain as he crashed down onto the floor. Sitting up, he looked around frantically, saw Fuji, double checked his empty hands, and glared.
(Fuji! That was mean nyah! Why’d you have to scare me like that?!)
Laughing, Fuji held up his hands to stall his friend’s anger, (Calm down Eiji, we’re supposed to be meeting Mr. Tanglewood downstairs right about now.)
Turning towards the door, Tezuka let out a long, involuntary sigh. Too much time with his teammates could do that to a person. Someone, he forgot who, had once asked him how he managed to deal with them all. Truth be told, he had no idea whatsoever.
The sound of madly pounding feet resounded through the wall from the other room, most likely indicating the occurrence of a similar scenario in be applied next door. Granted, seeing as Inui himself was actually present, it probably included a little less glaring and a lot more running.
Pulling open the door just in time to see Momoshiro, Kaidoh, and Echizen all tumbling down the stairs in a tangled balls of limbs, Tezuka paused momentarily before shaking his head and stepping out to where Oishi was hovering anxiously on the landing, (Let’s go.)
X
Sitting in the meeting room, Nick Tanglewood listened with growing apprehension to the series of bumps, crashes, and shrieks echoing from the direction of the stairs outside. A particularly loud crash brought him shooting out of his chair, but a moment later the door crashed open to admit the short boy with the hat who was rubbing the back of his head with one hand while glaring back over his shoulder.
“Baka,” he snapped as he made his way to one of the chairs near the empty hearth. He was followed shortly by the loud Momoshiro and the bandana-wearing Kaidoh, both of whom looked equally worse for wear, muttering something about demonic drinks and mad scientists.
Sinking slowly back into his chair, the wizard continued to stare as the bespectacled captain strode calmly through the door, cutting a sharp contrast to his banged up teammates. It wasn’t long before the rest of the team trooped in-the last carrying a beaker of…something…
Looking away quickly, he cleared his throat, taking a moment to mentally refresh his Japanese vocabulary, (Um, well, I asked for you all to be here today because some…news has come from the Ministry concerning your team’s participation in the upcoming tournament.)
Hesitating again, he looked around the room at their expectant, impatient, and unreadable faces, swallowed, and turned to focus his attention on the captain. He explained the magical world to a muggle once, and he had never wished to repeat the experience, but at least he was relatively certain this particular teen wouldn’t gape at him. At least he wouldn’t be in charge of erasing their memories once the whole mess was over with. He inhaled deeply.
(You see, the National NGW is, in actuality, a tournament for wizards, as in those who are magically gifted-)
(Magic?) the redhead burst out excitedly. (What-)
(Thus our invitation to you was, ah, falsely issued,) he pushed on hurriedly, ignoring the outburst and muttering all around him. (We did not know that you were actually um…te-tenny-tennis, tennis players. Thus, you see, we now have a bit of a problem. You are, as far as we can tell, not wizards, and so cannot participate in the tournament, but you have already accepted the invitation, which is binding. We searched the rules and have found that even so we cannot withdraw you from the competition. You will have to forfeit in order for us to fix the issue. Please, please do consider it,) he added, pleading now. (If you do so we can send you all back to your country and you won’t have to…ah…deal with all this anymore. You would simply forfeit your first match now. Then you can be officially off the roster.)
He looked hopefully around at them, but something about the phrase “forfeit your match” had struck a chord in the Seigaku regulars and all of their faces reflected an abrupt change from curious surprise to fierce determination.
(We never give up a match!) Momoshiro declared loudly, punching his left palm with his right hand. (And we’re not about to start now!)
(He’s right nyah!) Eiji exclaimed, brandishing his fists and almost hitting Oishi on accident. (We’re winners nyah! Not cowards!)
Tanglewood drooped, (But-)
(Mada mada dane,) Ryoma rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair with an air of boredom. (We’re not scared.)
(But-but…you’re not wizards!)
(Could we perhaps learn?) Oishi suggested, though he looked rather uncertain. He had the face of someone who still thought he was dreaming.
Resisting the urge to slap his forehead, the wizard turned to Tezuka, (Are you certain you wish to proceed with this? I mean, we could still send you over to Hogwards and see if maybe they can see something, but…I mean…)
Tezuka leveled him with a calm stare, (We do not forfeit.)
Deflating, Mr. Tanglewood sighed. This had to be the first and only time in history when muggles would be required, by law, to be allowed to attend a highly magical event.
He wanted to cry. He could lose his job over this.
TBC
Author: alaena_flame
Genre: General/Humor
Chapter: 4/?
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The usual
Characters: Mainly Seigaku regulars
Summary: [POT X HP Cross] The Seigaku regulars were invited to a wizards’ tournament by mistake and chaos breaks loose as the wizards discover that their honorary team has no magic…or do they?
FF Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2660843/4/
“…” = English
(…) = Japanese
Chapter 4
London, or so the Seigaku tennis team had long since decided, was officially the strangest place in the world. Not only had they just waltzed through a solid brick wall into a street selling the most unusual things they had ever-or never-heard of, but when they trooped back through it no one in the Leaky Cauldron so much as batted an eye. On the one hand, that could perhaps be seen as a good thing-Tezuka in particular did not feel particularly inclined at the moment to deal with the overly easily excitable people who composed most of the human population-but on the other hand…it certainly did make one heck of a strange statement about Westerners.
Suffice to say, tennis practice would no longer be held against that particular brick wall.
“So how’d ya like the alley?” the bartender asked as they filed past him towards the stairs, grinning his somewhat toothless grin at them. “Best of its kind, I hear.”
Eiji pulled a face, searching through his frantically through his mental, Japanese-English dictionary for the right words to describe the nauseating feeling he had when watching Inui drifting through the bookstore like a man through heaven. He came up with a blank. It was too terrifying for words.
“It was an interesting experience,” Oishi put in quickly, wondering why the majority of his teammates had such expressions of woe on their faces. “The people were very helpful.”
Nodding sagely, Tom waved them on, turning his head in the direction of the tavern door as yet more customers trickled in off of the London streets.
(I never knew England was such a weird place,) Momo muttered under his breath to Ryoma as they followed the rest of the Seigaku regulars up the rickety stairs. (Otherwise I might have thought harder about coming…)
The younger boy just rolled his eyes. He’d never seen much point in the whole ‘if only but no can do’ type of contemplation. After all, what could be more pointless?
(I think it would be best if we all got a little rest,) Oishi announced, glancing over the varies expressions of woe, shock, dreamy joy [he shuddered, that look was not meant for Inui’s face], weariness, and contemplation adorning his teammates faces. (Oh, but before I forget-here,) he pulled a stack of thin, black bound books from the bag he had been carrying since his reappearance, smiling enthusiastically with sudden excitement, (I got these planners so that we could all keep track of dates and times so we don’t forget things. And it includes a writing section if you want to keep a journal about our trip!)
Blinking, Eiji accepted the book his doubles partner was handing him, stared at it a moment, then squealed in delight, (Oh look! Such a cute kitty nya! And its eyes are blue!)
(Eh? What are you talking about, Eiji-sempai?) Momo asked, brandishing his own book as the mild look of horror brought about by the thought of being required to write a journal vanished to be replaced with confusion. (It’s not a cat. It’s this…weird animal with round ears and stripes! And…well…its front legs are a lot shorter than its hind legs…anyways, it’s definitely not a cat.)
(No, mine is definitely a cat nyah! Fuji! What’s yours?)
Glancing at the cover curiously, the tensai tapped it thoughtfully, (It seems to be a night sky with paler shades in the background where the sun is still barely visible. Then there’s the silhouette of someone-it looks like whoever it is is wearing a cloak.)
(Are they all different then?) Momo concluded, scratching the back of his head. (That’s neat, Oishi-sempai)
Turning to stare at them, Oishi frowned, (What? Different? But all the books I bought had pictures of dogs on them… I thought they were very well done…?)
(Maybe you should get your eyes checked, Oishi-sempai) Ryoma muttered, gazing down at a small figure silhouetted against a crimson backdrop who was flanked by leathery wings. It certainly didn’t look like any dog he had ever seen before.
Shrugging, he tucked it under his arm, swung his racket over his shoulder, and walked past the others to get to his designated room. He wasn’t exactly tired, per say, but more time to sleep was always a good thing. The time difference certainly wasn’t helping the matter…
X
The problem with disturbing one’s patterns of sleep of course was that sleep was a rather irritable mistress and it did not take well to being prodded. Thus it was that when one was forced to change one’s resting schedule one had a tendency to be weary beyond belief, lie in bed for hours, and still be staring blankly up at the ceiling at the end of it.
Growling in frustration, he rolled over onto his side-to be presented with another smooth, unblemished, and undeniably boring surface. This was so not his day…
Sitting up finally he looked around the room. Momoshiro was sprawled over the entirety of his bed, a bit of saliva trickling from the corner of his widely snoring mouth. Caught between grimacing and laughing-maybe he should go borrow a camera from Fuji-sempai-Ryoma continued his survey. Kaidoh was presumably asleep, he couldn’t really tell with his teammate’s face turned away from him, and then there was Inui…crouched by the window by a small, portable electric stove where several glass beakers stood proudly under the sun’s light, bubbling as though they were each trying to win a contest. Shuddering, he couldn’t help but stare at the disturbing scene before slipping out from under his covers and tiptoeing to the door. Thankfully whoever it was who had last entered hadn’t completely closed the door so he was able to push it open a little further and edge into the hallway undetected. Breathing a sigh of relief he glanced over at the door to the room the other half of the team occupied before heading for the stairs. Funny, that door had been open too.
x-X-x
Sitting in one of the Leaky Cauldron’s many rooms, Nick Tanglewood of the Ministry of Magic’s sports and entertainment department wondered how he could have gotten himself into this mess. He had been sent to the muggle air port the day before to pick up one of the foreign teams coming to participate in the National NGW-and it wasn’t just any team either, it was the specially invited team who had been called due to collected news of their amazing talents-only it had turned out the team was now composed of wizards after all but muggle tennis stars… Burying his face in his hands, he groaned. It had only gotten worse from there.
It was technically against the rules to remove teams once they had accepted their invitations, but he had his fellow ‘welcoming committee’ had decided to give the lot a chance to show whether or not they had magical capabilities, but tension was running high and he had been assigned the task of simply erasing their memories for now while the others reported the unfortunate mistake to the Ministry and asked for a little sidestepping in regards to the rules. He had been glad at first not to be the one who had to face the fires at the Ministry, but…
Peering out between his fingers, he stared forlornly at the mirror that stood against the wall opposite him. The beautifully crafted piece looked blankly back at him, the usually overly talkative mouth kept shut by an irritated silencing charm. It didn’t stop it from twisting and contorting his image this way and that as he looked though so he closed his eyes again. No one needed to see his face stretched into the shape of a seven pointed star.
He had been so close-what had happened? He was an expert at memory charms! He had worked as an Obliviator for years before deciding he would rather be a part of the more lively and less stressful sports department! And yet…
Scrunching up his face, he recalled how he had been standing outside one of the Japanese tennis team’s rooms. He had cracked open one of the doors and peered inside at its occupants. The two beds closer to the door were hard to see, so he had focused his attention on the farther two. The only problem was that one of these was occupied by nothing more detailed than a sheet covered lump, which made three highly difficult targets. That left the fourth and final bed whose occupant was-much to Tanglewood’s relief or despair, he couldn’t tell which-sitting with his back against a pillow propped up on the headboard, reading a book.
“Well, here goes nothing,” he had muttered to himself, withdrawing his wand from his pocket and aiming it carefully. “Obliviate.”
But nothing had happened. There was a slight hissing sound and his wand had grown warm in his hands, causing him to nearly drop it, and in the room the brunette with the book continued to read, flipping the pages with leisurely flicks of the fingers while humming something under his breath. And that was it. In disbelief he had tried it several more times, but the results had been the same.
Giving up wasn’t something he made a habit of, but there were some things that couldn’t be helped, so he had moved on to the next room, hoping for a better chance. Looking into this room he had seen one giant mess of a bed, a small boy who was staring at the ceiling as though he might be able to drill holes into it if he just looked hard enough, one obscured back-and a very tall young man with spiked up hair who had positioned himself in front of the window with an assortment of bubbling beakers.
And in these beakers he had caught the glimpse of the reflection of his own face.
Panicking, he had fled back to this room.
Life was so unfair… Now he would have to report a failure. It might not exactly be morally right of him, but he was starting to hope the others returned with the message that even muggles couldn’t just be withdrawn.
But that was preposterous.
x-X-x
Ryoma had concluded after extended contemplation that the strange alley through the brick wall was indeed a very unusual place. He had found the entrance open when he had gone downstairs and slipped back through it since he didn’t feel like battling the traffic out the pub’s other end for the time being. There hadn’t been much of a chance to look around before when Inui was running loose in a bookstore full of bad ideas after all.
As for why he had elected it as a very unusual place… First off, it was full of weird people. Not a single one of them seemed to be wearing what could reasonably be considered day to day clothes. They looked more like they were wearing multicolored variations of his father’s usual garb-and that, in his onion, was a folly and a half. But as if that wasn’t already enough they completed the image with conical hats with spreading brims that added several inches to their height but seemed even more unconventional than the clothes. One would think they’d never heard of good old baseball caps. Second of all there was the merchandize, something he had taken note of on his first trip through the alley but only now got to examine more closely. He did not find this a helpful thing to do seeing as the first thing he took a close look at turned out to be tiny, black ‘beetle eyes’. Reeling back from the display, dignity forgotten, he made a beeline for the safety of a shop selling cleaning tools. It must have been one extremely effective set of tools because it was drawing one of the largest crowds he had seen yet.
“Hey, don’t push,” a boy not much older than himself laughed as he bumped into them. “It’s not as though anyone’s going to run off with it now, is it?”
“I guess not,” Ryoma mumbled under his breath, eyes scanning for a path of escape. He didn’t see any. The crowd had already doubled in size since he’d joined it.
“You can’t blame him,” another youth laughed, clearing a way and pulling both Ryoma and the other boy forward so they could get a clear view of the broom in the shop window. “I mean, just look at it, isn’t it just one of the best you’ve ever seen?”
“Uh…it’s a very…” Ryoma stared at the broom for a long moment, at a loss for words, “…nice broom…?”
“You bet it is!” the boy exclaimed, slapping him heartily on the shoulder with an enormous grin. “The latest model! Isn’t she a beauty? Her performance is supposed to be phenomenal!”
Ryoma just stared at him, wondering if the boy had gone out of his mind. Really, didn’t he know that there were about a million things more exciting than sweeping floors? Like tennis, for example. And yet such enthusiasm…his mother must be one happy woman. Thankfully, the boy had apparently been gifted with a short attention span and Ryoma wasn’t forced to find something else to say.
Turning, he took a moment to view the mass of eager faces and shoving bodies with horror before turning his attention fully to the task of escaping the hordes. It was…not fn. He had to keep one hand clamped tightly on top of his head to keep his hat from being knocked off of his head and the other hand raised protectively in front of him lest he receive a face full of passerby.
Catching a brief glimpse of the bookstore Inui had found so very delightful out of the corner of his eye, Ryoma darted towards it and dove through the front doors. Wonderful, wonderful silence greeted him and he let out a sigh of relief. Who would have thought he would ever come to appreciate a bookstore so much?
“Why do we have so many books this year?” a loud, distraught wail echoed through the peace and quiet, making him twitch. “I mean, I swear all the teachers have doubled the number or something!”
“Oh Ron,” a girl’s voice sighed in exasperation, “that’s what happens when you get older. And they didn’t double it, it’s just a few more than we used to have. Not to mention reading is good for you-you’ll learn a lot more this way.”
“At least we don’t have to use the Monster Books anymore,” a third voice added in an apparent attempt to cheer up the first.
The first one paused for a moment, “Yeah. Did you know, it almost took a chunk out of my hand when I tried to pack it away!”
Blinking, Ryoma couldn’t help but look up and around. Monster book? A chunk out of his hand? But there were only three people in the aisle beside him-a gangly redhead, a girl with bushy, brown hair, and a boy with black hair and glasses. What caught his attention though was how the latter two were dressed like normal, sane people.
“At least they didn’t fire him,” the one with the glasses noted, a slight frown appearing on his face. The other two adopted solemn expressions as they nodded in agreement.
Leaning against the side of the shelf at the end of their aisle, Ryoma was starting to feel like one of his Japanese teammates listening to fluent English for the first time.
“Well, I don’t think Dumbledore would fire him,” the girl said finally, hefting the load of books she was carrying higher up in her arms, “even if they decided not to let him teach he would always be Hogwarts’ gamekeeper.”
Ryoma’s head shot up and he leaned farther around the shelf, “Excuse me, did you say Hogwarts?”
Three pairs of startled eyes turned to stare at him. Stepping fully into the aisle, he waited patiently for an answer. It was about time there were answers anyway.
“Yeah, we did,” the one with the glasses blinked. “Are you a new student?”
Ryoma stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, “No, I’m from Seigaku. We were invited for some kind of tournament.”
“Seigaku?” the redhead frowned slightly in confusion. “I’ve never heard of that school. Is it far away?”
Ryoma’s mouth turned up at the corners into a smirk, “It’s in Japan.”
He was rewarded with three startled faces. He let it be for a few seconds, enjoying their surprise, but it wasn’t answering questions so he felt obligated to snap them out of it. Pity.
“Do you know why the people who brought us here kept saying the word ‘wizard’?”
Now they were looking at him like he had grown another head. He stared expectantly back at them, impatience building.
Suddenly the girl’s face lit up with understanding, “Oh, you see, ‘wizard’ is our word for people who use magic.”
Ryoma blinked. He knew what wizards were, he just didn’t know why people here kept calling themselves by the word.
“Are you wizards then?” he asked finally, deciding it best not to point out that he could speak perfect English, having grown up in the States.
“Of course,” the redhead laughed. “We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t. Muggles don’t get into Diagon Alley-not unless someone brings them anyway, and the Ministry has rules against that.”
“Did you say you were invited for a tournament?” the one with the glasses asked suddenly, sounding unexpectedly curious for a member of the ‘school’ the regulars were supposed to be housed at.
Ryoma shrugged, tugging at his cap and glancing back out the bookstore’s glass front at the darkening alley beyond, “Yeah.”
“So…why did you ask about Hogwards?”
“My team and I are supposed to be staying there,” stuffing his hands into his pockets, he turned away from them. “I have to go.”
He could feel them watching him all the way out of the bookstore. It was a good thing he was used to having spectators.
x-X-x
“Give it a few days, they say,” he muttered to himself, disgruntled. “It’s easy when you don’t have to be the one tracking ‘em down.”
There was something about eight teenage athletes that made them extraordinarily hard to keep an eye on-espeically when they had the habit of going disobligingly in their separate ways whenever the day progressed for more than a few hours. The infuriating thing was that they didn’t even seem to be doing it on purpose. Still, Tanglewood was not a happy man-he had been screeched at just that morning by a woman who had found him hiding in one of the large cauldrons she was selling, not to mention that gigantic, sixteen legged spider that had taken an experimental bite at him while he stood pressed to the side of its cage. One would think it would have been better trained!
Which, of course, just all came back to the same problem. He had been observing the boys for a few days now, and so far that had not exhibited any particular signs of magical ability. On the other hand they had managed to get into Diagon Alley on several occasions, though mostly it was while others were using the gate. There was that one time that Tom the bartender had told him about-something along the lines of them hitting a fuzzy ball against the wall and the wall opening-but there was little evidence of anything more than a malfunction of the gate. How could some strange, muggle sport open the gate anyway?
Now, staring at one of their rooms’ doors, he straightened his shoulders with a resigned sigh and knocked. If this went well, he wouldn’t have to deal with them for the rest of his life. It was a beautiful thought.
X
Looking up from where he had been writing down a list of everything he thought he might need to purchase in the matter of emergency supplies, Oishi blinked. He could have sworn he heard someone knocking on the door, but the sound had been brief and light, more likely a careless passerby than an actual request for entry. Still, there was the possibility that it was actually a person, and in that case it would be most impolite to leave him or her standing unanswered. Looking around the room, he noted that Tezuka was reading, Fuji was engrossed in an album of moving pictures-some kind of new, English technology, and Eiji…was taking a catnap, something he had been doing consistently in rebellion against the time zones since they had arrived. Most of their teammates probably would have appreciated his systematic hour of peaceful slumber, if it weren’t for the fact that he stayed up to midnight every night just as systematically.
Smiling slightly at the way his partner seemed to be mumbling something about toothpastes and fruits in his sleep, he moved his planner onto the bed beside him and stood, heading for the door. Carefully stepping over the third floorboard from the door-it creaked like a hideously rusted hinges whenever pressure was applied despite his inability to discern a problem-he turned the handle and opened it.
The door swung creakily open to reveal, much to the vice captain’s surprise, Nick Tanglewood. He stared for a moment before remembering himself and straightening to give a small bow.
“Mr. Tanglewood,” he smiled, speaking a little slowly in an attempt to enunciate clearly. He knew the man could speak Japanese, but there was a harassed look about his face that made Oishi feel the need to spare him the trouble. “Is there something we can do for you?”
The man hesitated a moment, looking nervously from side to side before refocusing his gaze on Oishi’s curious face, “Well-ah…yes, you see…some-some information from the…the Ministry has come and…well, I need to speak to you and your teammates.”
“Well,” Oishi blinked, “I am sure there is no problem. If you would please wait a few minutes…?”
“Ah, of course,” bobbing his head with a strained smile, the man backed hurriedly away from the door. “I…will be waiting at the meeting room we spoke in your first day here.”
“All right, can you give us a few minutes?”
“Of course,” bobbing up and down again, the man scurried away and disappeared into the stairwell. Oishi looked after him with a puzzled frown, shook his head, and turned back into the room.
(Ah, Tezuka,) he said, noticing the captain’s inquiring gaze, (Mr. Tanglewood says some news has come from the Ministry and he wants to speak to us in a few minutes in the room we spoke in the first day. I’m not sure exactly what kind of news he’s talking about though…)
Nodding, Tezuka snapped his book shut and stood, (Will you get the others?)
Looking up from his album to watch as Oishi left the room, Fuji smiled thoughtfully, (I think this is going to be a rather interesting meeting, don’t you?)
Glancing at him, Tezuka frowned slightly and adjusted his glasses, (Wake Kikumaru.)
Shrugging, Fuji got of his bed and walked over to stand next to Eiji’s. Pausing a moment, he tilted his head slightly as though in thought before clearing his throat and announcing in a clear and cheerful voice, (Eiji, I brought you Inui’s new juice. It’s the best one he’s made so far. Here, I’ll just-)
(No!) leaping straight out of bed, the redhead lurched instinctively away from Fuji with a panicked shriek. (Get it away from me! I don’t want it!)
Foot catching on the corner of his sheets, the redhead let out an even louder yell of pain as he crashed down onto the floor. Sitting up, he looked around frantically, saw Fuji, double checked his empty hands, and glared.
(Fuji! That was mean nyah! Why’d you have to scare me like that?!)
Laughing, Fuji held up his hands to stall his friend’s anger, (Calm down Eiji, we’re supposed to be meeting Mr. Tanglewood downstairs right about now.)
Turning towards the door, Tezuka let out a long, involuntary sigh. Too much time with his teammates could do that to a person. Someone, he forgot who, had once asked him how he managed to deal with them all. Truth be told, he had no idea whatsoever.
The sound of madly pounding feet resounded through the wall from the other room, most likely indicating the occurrence of a similar scenario in be applied next door. Granted, seeing as Inui himself was actually present, it probably included a little less glaring and a lot more running.
Pulling open the door just in time to see Momoshiro, Kaidoh, and Echizen all tumbling down the stairs in a tangled balls of limbs, Tezuka paused momentarily before shaking his head and stepping out to where Oishi was hovering anxiously on the landing, (Let’s go.)
X
Sitting in the meeting room, Nick Tanglewood listened with growing apprehension to the series of bumps, crashes, and shrieks echoing from the direction of the stairs outside. A particularly loud crash brought him shooting out of his chair, but a moment later the door crashed open to admit the short boy with the hat who was rubbing the back of his head with one hand while glaring back over his shoulder.
“Baka,” he snapped as he made his way to one of the chairs near the empty hearth. He was followed shortly by the loud Momoshiro and the bandana-wearing Kaidoh, both of whom looked equally worse for wear, muttering something about demonic drinks and mad scientists.
Sinking slowly back into his chair, the wizard continued to stare as the bespectacled captain strode calmly through the door, cutting a sharp contrast to his banged up teammates. It wasn’t long before the rest of the team trooped in-the last carrying a beaker of…something…
Looking away quickly, he cleared his throat, taking a moment to mentally refresh his Japanese vocabulary, (Um, well, I asked for you all to be here today because some…news has come from the Ministry concerning your team’s participation in the upcoming tournament.)
Hesitating again, he looked around the room at their expectant, impatient, and unreadable faces, swallowed, and turned to focus his attention on the captain. He explained the magical world to a muggle once, and he had never wished to repeat the experience, but at least he was relatively certain this particular teen wouldn’t gape at him. At least he wouldn’t be in charge of erasing their memories once the whole mess was over with. He inhaled deeply.
(You see, the National NGW is, in actuality, a tournament for wizards, as in those who are magically gifted-)
(Magic?) the redhead burst out excitedly. (What-)
(Thus our invitation to you was, ah, falsely issued,) he pushed on hurriedly, ignoring the outburst and muttering all around him. (We did not know that you were actually um…te-tenny-tennis, tennis players. Thus, you see, we now have a bit of a problem. You are, as far as we can tell, not wizards, and so cannot participate in the tournament, but you have already accepted the invitation, which is binding. We searched the rules and have found that even so we cannot withdraw you from the competition. You will have to forfeit in order for us to fix the issue. Please, please do consider it,) he added, pleading now. (If you do so we can send you all back to your country and you won’t have to…ah…deal with all this anymore. You would simply forfeit your first match now. Then you can be officially off the roster.)
He looked hopefully around at them, but something about the phrase “forfeit your match” had struck a chord in the Seigaku regulars and all of their faces reflected an abrupt change from curious surprise to fierce determination.
(We never give up a match!) Momoshiro declared loudly, punching his left palm with his right hand. (And we’re not about to start now!)
(He’s right nyah!) Eiji exclaimed, brandishing his fists and almost hitting Oishi on accident. (We’re winners nyah! Not cowards!)
Tanglewood drooped, (But-)
(Mada mada dane,) Ryoma rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair with an air of boredom. (We’re not scared.)
(But-but…you’re not wizards!)
(Could we perhaps learn?) Oishi suggested, though he looked rather uncertain. He had the face of someone who still thought he was dreaming.
Resisting the urge to slap his forehead, the wizard turned to Tezuka, (Are you certain you wish to proceed with this? I mean, we could still send you over to Hogwards and see if maybe they can see something, but…I mean…)
Tezuka leveled him with a calm stare, (We do not forfeit.)
Deflating, Mr. Tanglewood sighed. This had to be the first and only time in history when muggles would be required, by law, to be allowed to attend a highly magical event.
He wanted to cry. He could lose his job over this.
TBC