[oneshot] for club and for country (1/2)
Title: for club and for country
Pairing: kai-centric
Rating: pg13
Genre: au, gen, slice-of-life
Warnings: swearing, mild violence
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: professional quidditch au. ft. copious amounts of chinguline, 94line, and suho. for michaelwesten. ~18,600 words.
All Jongin has ever wanted to do is fly.
When he is five years old, Gain leaves her kiddie broom out on the lawn, hovering uncertainly over their mother's best mugunghwa bush. He curls his stubby fingers around the handle and feels the wood thrum to life in his palm. Warm and solid, like a heartbeat. He swings his knee over the slim branch and manages to coax it up far enough for his mother to faint when she walks out the front door and sees just how high he is.
Jongin remembers thinking-after his father brought him back down to earth with a swish of his wand and pulled him inside the house for a stern talking to, Hyein waving smelling salts underneath Mom's nose-he remembers thinking: it wasn't even that high. He remembers thinking I want to go higher, the broom shuddering between his legs as he pushed it past the charmed two-meter height boundary, bare toes skimming the uppermost branches of the oak tree in the yard, his hands reaching for the blue sky and ribboning clouds beyond.
*
"Come on," Baekhyun's saying. "Up and at 'em, tiger."
Jongin yawns, still drowsy. He peers through a crack in the sheets and grunts something unintelligible. It's definitely too early for anyone to be in his apartment, even if they were spelled into his wards.
And they're in Japan. The club season's still in full swing. Baekhyun should be-not here. He should be in Gwangju, en route to an exhibition match with the rest of the Incheon Imps.
"What are you doing in my house?" he mumbles, tongue heavy with sleep. It comes out sounding more like whuh do in huzz, but Baekhyun seems to understand.
He regards Jongin with gentle disdain. "Did you forget? Of course you did. I fucking knew it." He leans forward and undoes a little bit of the blanket cocoon. Jongin's face pokes out into the cold air. "Call-ups are today. I got my Owl already." He brandishes an official-looking letter in his hand. "Floo'd here right away." He wrinkles his nose. "You really need to clean out your grate, son."
Jongin sits up in bed so fast his head swims. Baekhyun's eyes crinkle. As if on cue, a tap echoes from outside Jongin's dingy window. Through the glass, he can see a magnificent eagle owl perched on the ledge, orange eyes staring beadily at him.
He unfolds himself from the blankets as Baekhyun settles cross-legged on his bed, and moves to the window in a daze. The owl flaps inside and perches imperiously on his outstretched arm. Jongin carries it to the kitchenette and pulls a half-empty box of stale mouse-shaped treats out of one of the cupboards.
"Sorry," he mutters. "This is all I have." The owl ruffles its feathers and chokes two treats down as Jongin unties the envelope from around its leg. He breaks the seal and walks back out into the bedroom again, eyes scanning the looping handwriting underneath the fancy letterhead.
Dear Kim Jongin-sshi,
On behalf of the Korean National Team, I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected as first-choice Seeker for the 2014 World Cup line-up. Team practices will begin at the end of the club season, on May 23rd, 2013. Attached is a detailed schedule of dates, times, and locations for practice as well as qualifying games leading up to the final next July, along with a list of the starting seven and available reserves.
We hope to see you on the pitch in May.
Kwon Jiyong
Head Coach
When he looks up again, Baekhyun's eyebrows are raised. "Well?"
"I'm Seeking for the national team," he says. "First string." His blood runs hot, then cold, then hot again, singing through his veins. Baekhyun lets out a loud whoop and starts saying something about foregone conclusions. Jongin sinks down at the edge of the bed. He hadn't dared let himself hope. There were so many other viable options. Veterans of the sport who would've all been safer picks, people far more experienced than he was. But-no. They'd chosen him. Jongin's the one with the letter in his hands.
"Boot camp in May," Baekhyun says, grinning. His teeth flash in the morning light. "You ready, wonder boy? We're going to the World Cup, baby."
*
By the time he's thirteen, Quidditch is the only thing Jongin knows how to carry with conviction-he can't do basic Arithmancy or read ancient runes to save his life, isn't good with hexes and jinxes like his sisters are-so he carries it all the way to Dong Bang Hakgyo of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"First years," the sweet-faced captain says, staring down at Jongin's skinny frame shivering on the pitch at dawn, "aren't allowed to try out for the varsity team."
"You can join reserve, though," pipes the towering second year standing at his elbow. He eyes Jongin's Dragonbolt with keen interest and taps his finger down the list in the captain's hand. "Kim Jongin, right?"
The other hopefuls totter onto the field and start lining up behind Jongin, blinking sleep out of their eyes and mumbling about Potions essays and late night readings in the Astronomy tower. Jongin stamps his feet against the dirt, heat rushing along his skin despite the February cold. None of these words mean anything to him-he just wants to fly.
"I'm Chanyeol," the second year continues. "Beater." Chanyeol grins, extending a hand. "So let's see what you can do."
Jongin's kicked off from the ground before the challenge is even all the way out of Chanyeol's mouth, winter wind whistling in his ears.
"Hey!" Chanyeol calls from below. "We haven't even gotten what position you want to try-" And then Jongin's drifting out of earshot, riding the cold air currents up and up.
He hasn't flown properly with anyone else in months. Since autumn sloughed off the last of its warmth, and the neighborhood kids decided freezing their asses off to play street Quidditch in the snow wasn't worth it anymore. But it comes to him again as easy as it always does: palm clenched loose around the handle, knees bent over the Cushion charm, eyes vaguely tracking the other fliers in his peripheral vision. When he turns toward the ground, everyone still huddled on the pitch looks tiny.
Someone must've cast a Sonorous charm, because the next thing Jongin hears is the captain's disembodied voice, as if spoken directly into his ear. "My name is Kim Joonmyun, Quidditch captain. We appreciate your interest in the team! Please take ten laps around the stadium as a warm-up," he says. "We want to pick a Seeker first, so we'll be letting the Snitch out shortly."
Jongin trails behind most of the others, swinging smoothly around the flag-posts. On the sixth lap, Chanyeol rises up on his dark brown Hyundai to fly with him, a bemused expression on his face.
"Why are you going so slow?"
"What's the hurry?" Jongin replies, nudging his broom through the next turn. He takes in the wooden barricades in front of the bleachers, soggy from snow, and dips closer to the ground during the next lap. "You miss things when you go too fast."
Truthfully, Jongin's never been on the other side of a real Quidditch pitch before. His dad took him to an Imps game once, when he was ten years old and barely tall enough to see over the railing, and it'd been so much better to watch the Chasers weave through complicated plays in real time than through the grainy moving pictures in the match recaps in Quidditch Illustrated. Makeshift goalposts set up in the streets or at the park could only recreate a pitch so far. He'd watched Phoenix 3000s twisting and tumbling in the air after the Snitch, afterimages burned into his eyelids, and thought, I want to be there.
Jongin doesn't wait for Chanyeol's reply before zooming forward without warning, air whistling through the bristles behind him. He grins as he outpaces everyone else on the last lap and pulls to a steady stop over the center of the field, watching Joonmyun fiddle with the ball box.
"Good luck," he says, voice curling over Jongin's shoulder. He unstraps the Snitch. Jongin catches the flash of gold, halfway down the pitch already. He blinks twice and it's gone.
It starts snowing in the middle of their search, to general dismay. Jongin keeps circling high above the flag-posts, heart beating in his throat, struggling to see through the flakes floating down. Half an hour later, he notices something shimmering twenty meters above the center hoop on the far end of the field, and frowns when the one shining spot splits into two, both of them flitting downward in tandem. He glances away for as long as he dares; no one else seems to have noticed.
Two Snitches?
He slides slowly past a Nimbus going in the other direction, trying not to draw too much attention to himself, eyes pinned on the gold. He tunes out the faint shouting once he's sped up enough into his sharp dive, vision tunneling in on their erratic parallel trajectories. If he reached out with one hand he could try to swipe both of them, but as Jongin bears down-almost vertical to the ground at this point, squinting against the wind, five, four, three scant meters away-the two Snitches break apart. No, he thinks, gritting his teeth, throwing his body forward. His hands spring off the handle of the broom and he stretches his arms out as wide as they'll go, feet braced against the wet bristles and thighs clamping tight around the shaft. The first Snitch smacks into his palm and he wrenches his torso to the right, fingers straining for the second as its wingtips brush against his skin, and then-
He's got it. Them. Two sets of wings flutter feebly in his grasp.
Jongin's legs scream in protest as he drags them up to level the broom out five meters above the wet grass. His face is streaked with moisture: mostly melted snowflakes, but also tear tracks from the sheer force of the plunge. He coasts to a halt in front of Joonmyun and Chanyeol and what looks like the rest of the returning team, nearly trips when he staggers off his broom, legs wobbling, breath rattling in and out of his chest.
"Holy shit," Chanyeol says, stunned. "He caught both of them." He takes the Snitches out of Jongin's outstretched hands. "I didn't even tell them there were two, what the fuck?"
Someone's pounding Jongin on the shoulder. "No one's ever done that before-"
"Uh," Jongin tries, but he's drowned out by the excited chatter. He clutches his broom to his chest.
"You have to talk to Coach," Chanyeol tells Joonmyun, arms akimbo. "He's too fucking good for reserve."
"I'll talk to him," Joonmyun agrees. He's smiling. Jongin relaxes. "Welcome to the team."
"Oh." His mind's as blank as a new piece of parchment. All he can think to say is: "Thank you."
*
After the Tengus' last game of the season (the league final for the Asian Cup, which they win by a narrow margin against the Beijing Bixie), Jongin goes home.
Home-which means Korea. Not the tiny studio in Toyohashi. Home means his parents' house right outside Seoul proper, in the magical residential district that runs along the countryside. The others all live in apartments in the heart of Wizarding Gangnam, downtown's hustle and bustle bleeding into every facet of day-to-day life. He'd rather not crash there. He only has a week before boot camp commences. The Imps got kicked out of the bracket in early May, and the Gumiho and Dokkaebi a couple of weeks before that. Jongin's the only one on the Korean national team who lasted all the way to the end of the club season. Now, he needs the rest, and the quiet.
His teammates in Japan had wanted him to stay for the usual celebrations. "It's only your third season here, and your first winning with us," Yuya wheedled. "The party goes on for weeks. We're hometown heroes. You should experience it." He smiled, and their coach, Ikuta Toma, nodded along beside him. "You helped us get here."
But Jongin's never really been interested in the flip side of pro Quidditch: the parties, the booze, the late nights, shiny magazine spreads and international fame. Everything that happens off the pitch and in front of the cameras. (Basically you're boring as hell, Baekhyun always says, when Jongin declines another invitation to go out for drinks with the boys.) Jongin prefers to think of it as single-minded prioritizing. He'd rather keep the warm hum of satisfaction tucked away in his chest-or lay it all out on the grass after winning a match, the Snitch fluttering against his palm and the floating floodlights bathing everything in gold.
So he Floos home the day after they win. Dad grabs his bags and pats him on the shoulder. Mom gives him a bottle of banana milk and ushers him up the stairs. It's good to be back, stuck in his old bedroom, still plastered floor to ceiling with moving posters of the Quidditch greats. He watches for a minute as Gwenog Jones sends a Bludger shooting toward Noriyuki Sato, who escapes with the Quaffle out of frame just in time. Krum nosedives into a Wronski Feint above the headboard. Jongin faceplants into the rickety old bed, broomstick sheets stretched over the mattress, and sleeps for twenty hours straight.
*
Organic Development vs. State-run Machines: The Roots of Modern Quidditch in East Asia
Written by Jiaheng Li
Quidditch Illustrated, June 2013 Issue
As members of the International Quidditch Association launch into the long qualifying stretch leading up to the Wizarding World's biggest sporting event, the eyes of their audiences turn to Asia. With next year's finals being held for the first time outside of Europe, in a soaring new stadium being constructed for this very purpose in Liaoning Province, the same controversies and discussions that first surfaced when China became the newest member of the Association in 1997 are being revisited.
Since their admission in the early 1900s, Japan has slowly but steadily risen in Quidditch prominence over the years. They peaked in 2002, arriving at the finals in Edinburgh in top form with Keeper Sho Sakurai leading the team and phenomenal Seeker Kazunari Ninomiya, but were defeated by Scotland 540 to 300 in a fierce game that stretched over two days.
A surprise contender and something of a dark horse in this campaign, South Korea joined the Association quietly in 1990 but didn't gain much traction until the late 2000s, when new head coach Kwon Jiyong took over for Yang Hyunsuk and cobbled together an elite staff to train the next generation of fliers. This year, thanks to new blood in the form of star Toyohashi Tengu Seeker Kim Jongin, should be their best showing yet.
But the team everyone's talking about is, of course, China.
After its induction in 1997 (a gesture of goodwill toward a Ministry that was finally opening itself up to public scrutiny since Chairman Mao's magical government forced the previous Muggle regime to Taiwan) China's meteoric explosion of talent and victory has been something of a centerpiece topic for even the most casual Quidditch fan. A virtual nobody at the outset, the Chinese National Team has since reached the World Cup semifinals twice (in 2002 and 2010) and the finals once, in 2006, before being defeated by Transylvania.
The difference between China and other teams, and the possible reason behind its tremendous success, is rooted in the way they're formed. Japan and Korea train their players in homegrown, organic environments and schoolyard play at Mahoutokoro and Dong Bang Schools for Witchcraft and Wizardry. In comparison, Chinese Quidditch players are selected at a very young age for their talent and begin training immediately afterward in state-run institutions designed to develop their abilities and maximize their fortes. Competition is fierce and nothing is guaranteed. Coupled with the biggest wizarding gene pool in the world, it's no wonder China has some of the best rising Quidditch players in modern times. Their constant precision and seamless teamwork as a result of their non-stop training is certainly something to be admired.
China's approach to choosing and training its future athletes belies a deeper political issue: the separation of magic and Muggle state. Unlike most other Ministries of Magic, which work with their Muggle counterparts to maintain peace and order in the country, the only government in China has been a magical one since the retreat of the Kuomintang in 1949, kept under thin wraps from the larger public. With the magical elite occupying so much of the upper echelon of politics and society, its representatives in wizarding sports have also been similarly controlled, for better or for worse. Commentators and analysts who criticize China's political foundation criticize its Quidditch infrastructure in kind, deriding it as nothing more than a machine pumping out brainless automatons that will only be thrown away when they are too old to play anymore. They say manufacturing players bleeds the romanticism and meaning out of a sport as old as Merlin himself.
Chinese Quidditch, though, is changing too. The World Cup team roster was released earlier this year to great uproar. With Canada-raised Kris Wu as Captain and Keeper, Chaser Amber Liu from Los Angeles, and Beater Lu Han, the first state-supported player to leave the country and play for a foreign club, several members of the Communist government have made their unhappiness very clear. However, despite all controversy (and quite a few blatant death threats), head coach Zhou Mi has refused to budge. In a recent press conference addressing these issues, Zhou said, "After an abysmal semifinal against Argentina in 2010, I need players who can adapt. The team fell apart when [Chaser] Han Geng passed out halfway through the match. China's youth programs are good at what they do, but I want to train players who will think outside the box in worst-case scenarios. I think I've chosen a team that can do that."
Training for most national teams, including China's, commenced at the end of the club season in May, right on schedule. Asia's behemoths are gearing up for as entertaining a fight as ever.
Interesting times to be going into the latest cycle of the Quidditch World Cup, to say the least.
(For a full list of players and teams, updated on the hour, please see page 59.)
*
"Shit, Jongin," Chanyeol says over breakfast, spitting bits of egg across the dining table at an unimpressed Kyungsoo. "Dude. You're in Quidditch Illustrated."
Baekhyun nearly knocks a bowl of oatmeal over in his haste to snatch the magazine out of Chanyeol's hands. "Oh my God," he coos, to Jongin's severe alarm. "How cute-"
"I mean, it's mostly about the Chinese team," Chanyeol amends. He swallows around the last bite of omelet. "But you got a mention, and a photo!"
Baekhyun jams the glossy magazine in Jongin's face. "Have a look, hotshot."
He stares down at the centerfold. The article seems like any other Quidditch op-ed that's come out in the past three months, but blinking up from the corner of the opposite page is-him at eighteen, freshly signed with the Tengu, holding silver team robes in his left hand and Ikuta's handshake in his right.
Jongin groans. "They couldn't have used a more recent picture? I still have a bowl cut in this."
"It's adorable," Baekhyun maintains. "You look twelve." Jongin hides his flush behind a piece of toast.
He'd arrived at camp via Portkey last night. The entire thing is set up in the backwater countryside of South Gyeonsang Province, the wetlands where nobody ever goes. A massive stadium rises up before the gray backdrop of low-riding mountains. Joonmyun met him at the gates to their temporary lodgings, looking young and fresh as ever, already dressed in training robes.
"Just like old times," he said, reaching for Jongin's trunk.
"Not quite," Jongin replied, taking in the thin spires poking into the sky and the flags fluttering in the wind, but he'd smiled back anyway.
Now, Joonmyun's sitting next to Minseok two tables over, conversing lowly with the Keeper coach, their heads bent together over a panorama of the three rings. Going over defensive plays, probably. Jongin's about to dig into his food again when the door to the canteen flies open-and he freezes, fork halfway to his mouth, because that's Harry fucking Potter standing in the doorway, what the fuck?
Heads swivel as Harry strides to the front of the room. Chanyeol finds his voice first, camera-smile fixed in place, a hand outstretched. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Potter," he says, in clunky English.
Harry takes the hand and shakes it, crows' feet pulling at the corners of his eyes. Jongin keeps staring, trying to grapple with this reality in his head. Harry turns to study the others, and then his gaze lands on Jongin. Sharpens. Jongin inhales sharply through his nose, fingers clenching around his fork. No one's ever looked at him like that before. Like he's seen Jongin and found him lacking.
And then Harry's face ripples-the flyway brown hair turns a soft pink, the green eyes flicker dark. Coffee-colored. His chin sharpens, build shrinking a couple of inches. In seconds, someone else is standing where the Boy who Lived was not a moment ago, hands stuck casually into the pockets of his jeans, a smirk playing at his lips. Kwon Jiyong.
"Neat party trick, huh?" he says into the pregnant silence. The cafeteria erupts into frenzied conversation. Jongin hadn't known their coach was a Metamorphmagus. Neither, it seems, had many of the rest.
Jiyong waves his hand. The chatter subsides. He rocks forward on the balls of his feet, eyes bright.
"Welcome to boot camp. I'm glad you all could make it." He pulls his wand out of his pocket and swishes it. A stack of parchment materializes at the end of the breakfast buffet table. Jiyong waves his wand again and sheets fly all over the room. Jongin plucks his out of the air and bends down to read it. "These are personalized practice schedules stretching all the way to the end of June, right before our first qualifying match. Aside from group practice, you'll be working one-on-one with specialized coaches for your positions. These times are labeled out accordingly. We start together on the pitch in an hour, so eat as much as you like before then, but don't be late. A lack of regard for punctuality will not be tolerated."
He pauses. Jongin looks up, and jumps a little when he realizes Jiyong's been gazing at him the entire time.
"There's something else I should say, so it's all out in the open at the beginning." Baekhyun sits up straighter on Jongin's left. Kyungsoo leans forward over his food, rapt with attention. "Some of you might be wondering why you're here. I didn't choose you because you're the best." Chanyeol makes a soft affronted noise from across the table. Jiyong sends him an amused look. "You're very good, obviously. But there are better."
"Why did you choose us?" Jongdae asks, eyebrows hiked.
"Because you're new. Still willing to learn." Jiyong shrugs. "Last time, the team I put together was full of top-of-the-line players set in their ways. All ego. They didn't think there was room for improvement, and they certainly didn't want to share the glory with any of their teammates." He shakes his head. "You guys know each other. Most of you have played with one another before. Training with us isn't going to be easy. Don't make the same mistake as your predecessors. Prove it to yourself that we made the right choice."
Baekhyun's chewing on his thumbnail. Jongin shifts in his chair, food forgotten. Joonmyun catches his eye, jaw set.
"If you don't think this is for you, then you're free to go. I'm sure any number of players would die to be in your position."
Jiyong waits a beat. No one moves.
"So you're ready for this?"
Jongin's nodding before the question even drops out of his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the others bobbing their heads too.
Jiyong smiles. It's sharp, almost dangerous. "Then let's begin."
*
If Jongin had his way, school would be eating, breathing, and living Quidditch every minute of every day. Unfortunately for him, athletes are apparently expected to maintain at least a Satisfactory mark in every class they take. No, Hyein writes, in response to one of his letters. I absolutely will not write your Transfiguration essays for you. I mean, first of all, Professor Song would kill me. A couple of paragraphs later, though, she says: If you need my help, I'm a Fire-call away.
Joining the Quidditch team is like being automatically inducted into a high profile, highly exclusive clique. Jongin's first year, it goes like this: Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and Jongdae Chase, Chanyeol and Minseok Beat, and Joonmyun Keeps. They have a different dorming situation than everyone else: instead of living in the south tower with the other students, the athletes are nestled in a corner of the castle that leads right out onto the green between the north gate and the stadium. Jongin rooms with Jinho and Moonkyu, the reserve Chasers. Coach turns out to be a glorified name for their faculty advisor, Professor Kang, who deals with all the logistics regarding transport to and from away games and making sure they don't fall behind on their schoolwork.
And anytime they aren't in class, asleep, or wolfing down food in the Great Hall-they're on the pitch. Even the reserve players, who are occasionally called upon to play in a match when someone falls ill with Dragon Pox or has a family emergency they need to go home for. Practice begins in earnest at the end of February and continues throughout mud-splattered March and dreary April, countless hours running drills in the rain. Joonmyun's mild-mannered enough under normal circumstances, but becomes a veritable taskmaster during the lead-up to a big game. Once, after particularly grueling practice the night before, Jongin falls asleep in History of Magic and gets a week's worth of detention dusting reference books for his trouble. (He manages to pull himself through classes with the help of Kyungsoo's copious notes from the previous year.)
It's alright, though. He doesn't hate it. For all their complaining, he doesn't think any of the others do, either. Jongin likes feeling the clean burn in his thighs after a long afternoon on the pitch, the sting of sweat in eyes, wind singing underneath him. If it makes him better, he'll do anything.
They get to the semifinals of the Asia Youth League Cup during Jongin's second year. It's Joonmyun's fifth. He's graduating in December. In October, when he realizes they've qualified for the semis, he writes up a practice schedule for the next month that makes Jongin's head spin.
"It's his last chance, and this is the closest we've ever gotten," Chanyeol tells him, sloughing mud off his robes in the locker room with slapdash flicks of his wand. "My first year, when Minho was Captain, we kept getting beaten by these ridiculous teams in China. Joonmyun-hyung can get a little manic about it."
"You're one to talk about manic," Baekhyun calls from the showers.
Chanyeol ignores the jibe. He shucks his top layer, rolling his shoulders, and whacks Jongdae's uncapped broom polish off the bench. Jongdae plunges after it with a yell. "It just means a lot to him, you know?" Chanyeol continues. "Some Very Important People are going to be at the finals. Joonmyun really wants to get there."
"Fifteen minutes for lunch on Fridays is a little much, though, don't you think?" Kyungsoo says dispassionately, surveying the timetable.
Jongin frowns. "What do you mean, important people?"
"Scouts," Baekhyun says, emerging from the shower, cheeks scrubbed pink. He snaps his towel at Jongdae, who yelps and shoots a spurt of cold water out of his wand at him in retaliation. "They'll be looking for players to sign." He scrabbles in the locker for his school robes. "I hear Daegu's trying to find a new Keeper."
Kyungsoo's head jerks up. "What happened to Yunho?"
"Vanished during their game against Shanghai last month," Baekhyun replies, snapping his fingers. "Poof."
"And their reserve Keeper?"
"Defected to Seoul."
"Shit," Jongdae breathes, collapsing hard on the bench.
There's a long pause. "I want to go pro," Jongin says to the room at large, and Chanyeol laughs.
"Ah, Jongin," he tuts, with an air of someone approaching middle age. He shoves his broom in his locker and pats Jongin's head before he can duck away. "The ambition of youth."
"You're only fifteen!" Jongin mutters. "That's not even old!"
"And you haven't showered yet," Kyungsoo says, grimacing. He waves his wand and sends of plume of floral dust spiraling in Jongin's face. "Go clean yourself up. Don't track mud back into the dorm."
Jongin scrubs a hand through his hair, still damp with sweat. "Fine," he grumbles, and swivels on his heel.
Their semifinal match is in Bangkok against Thailand's youth squad. They win 170 to 10 because Jongin gets lucky and catches the Snitch in the first thirty minutes, the game over almost before it'd even really begun.
The final takes place in early December against Beijing, at the state-run magnet school there. In the weeks leading up to it, Joonmyun walks around the castle with his nose stuck in a five-pound playbook and takes to giving the Chasers impromptu quizzes on attacking formations when he sees them in the halls.
They bring a whole entourage with them to China. Term exams end before they leave, and it feels like half the school's coming to watch. "No pressure or anything," Baekhyun mutters, peering out at the spectators before they march out onto the pitch. If Jongin squints, he thinks he can see Soojung and Sehun sitting in the stands, black and blue banners waved high.
It was already snowing before the match began, thick flakes blown sideways into Jongin's face from the howling wind. The weather only worsens as the game goes on. It's nearly blizzard status by the time Jongin first catches sight of the Snitch, hours later, winking at him from the other end of the pitch.
Beijing's Seeker is one Zhang Yixing. Joonmyun'd drilled the starting seven in all of their heads, to the point where Jongin could probably recite the entire roster in his sleep. Jongin wings by Yixing on his broom, still pretending to sweep the perimeter. His Warming Charm's slipping. He pulls his wand out of his sleeve and taps his own shoulder, feels the heat lick down across his torso. The Snitch hurtles down past Beijing's goal posts and jerks toward the audience. Jongin drifts down towards it, a little faster-past Hyoyeon, who's chasing after a Bludger, her goggles filmed over with frost.
Behind him, he hears Yixing give a faint shout. He'd spotted it too, then. Jongin dips into a forty-degree dive, heart leaping into his throat, eyes narrowing on the flash of gold, and-
Something hard and heavy slams into the back of his head. He somersaults with the broom and ends up attached only by a slipping hand around the shaft. The broom tailspins wildly. Jongin struggles to keep his eyes open past the pain. Twenty meters below, the referee's roaring something, mouth wide open in a shout, but Jongin can't hear a thing over the wind. He crashes into the slick wood of a flag-post and slides the rest of the way down, vision swimming, dropping to his knees on the grass.
The last thing he sees is Baekhyun's pinched, snarling face. Jongin tries to say go, you still have to play, stop worrying about me, but all he manages is a quivering groan before the stadium lights grow dim in the distance and everything goes dark.
There's a big celebratory banquet after the match. Jongin spends all of it in the Beijing school's hospital wing, groggy and concussed, his teammates dozing off around him.
"I saw him do it," Baekhyun's snapping when Jongin comes to. "Jongin was diving and their Beater, Tao or whatever, he-"
"We know," Kyungsoo mutters. He sounds tired. "He already apologized. Said it was an accident."
"Accident my ass-"
"Come on, Chanyeol, the guy looked horrified-"
Jongin opens his eyes. Jonghyun and Jongdae are snoring softly on the couch to his left. Baekhyun's pacing along his right, Quidditch robes still dripping onto the floor. "Hey," Jongin says around his tongue, trying to lift himself off the pillows. Chanyeol hops up from his chair and pushes him back. "Why aren't you at the-thing-" He exhales noisily when he sees Joonmyun at the foot of the bed. "The scouts-you should be-did we win?"
"Nobody blames you," Joonmyun says kindly, and Jongin's stomach clenches. "Yixing caught the Snitch. We lost 190 to 80."
"Oh." Jongin blinks. Turns the score in his head. 190 minus 150. "That means you only let-"
"Yeah," Joonmyun says, looking pleased. He opens his mouth again but Chanyeol bulldozes over him, loud as ever.
"Daegu signed him right off the pitch," he says, voice cracking with excitement. "He'll be starting in the spring, can you believe it?"
Baekhyun rolls his eyes and kicks Chanyeol's kneecap to get him to sit down. "Way to steal his thunder."
"Congratulations," Jongin breathes. Joonmyun beams. A moment later, his face begins wavering. Jongin's eyes slide half-shut. His chin dips forward against his chest, head too heavy to lift.
"Shit," comes Kyungsoo's voice. His hand lands heavily on Jongin's shoulder. "I think he's going to-"
Jongin closes his eyes and dreams of nothing at all.
*
The first thing Jiyong makes him do is run laps around the stadium.
On foot.
"I thought this was Seeker practice," Jongin blurts out, brow furrowed.
Jiyong sighs and slides Jongin's broom out of his hands. "Questioning my coaching methods already?"
Jongin shakes his head. "I just-want to know why. What's the point? I'm not going to be doing any running on the pitch during a game."
Jiyong regards him for a long moment. Long enough that Jongin feels a little uncomfortable. He shifts on his feet, the corners of his lips tugged down. "I've seen you play before," Jiyong says at last. "In the fall season. The semifinal game against Manila."
Jongin winces. "That wasn't-"
"You're talented, kid," Jiyong continues, "but you can't get by on pure talent alone. You're the type of Seeker that watches and waits before you strike. And when you go in for the kill, it's beautiful. No one can fly like you. That's why they call you-"
"Kai," Jongin finishes, ducking his head. "Like the ocean."
"Slow to action," Jiyong agrees. "But deadly when the time's right. It's not a bad strategy. In Manila, though-"
Jongin scowls. He scuffs the dirt with his shoe. "The Beaters sent every Bludger at me, even though the ref kept giving us penalty goals for the fouls. All the extra flying wore me out. And it was unseasonably hot. 39 degrees, or something."
"Heat stroke."
"Embarrassing."
Jiyong actually smiles. "Running is the best way to build up endurance. You're a Seeker, but you still need the stamina to last for longer matches."
"Okay," Jongin says. He straightens his spine. "I get it. What do I do?"
The first two weeks of practice, Jongin doesn't even touch a broom. Jiyong starts him off with easy laps inside the stadium in the morning and then makes him move into the terrain stretching out around them, wet marshland teeming with life. Jongin runs and runs and runs, over uneven ground under the hot sun, until his legs feel like jelly and an anvil sits heavy on his chest every time he breathes.
It rains at the end of the fourth day. Dragon-mosquitos come out to play. He gets bitten so many times his whole body feels like one throbbing itch. He sits outside with the Chasers that night, zapping the fuckers with his wand in revenge.
"How's practice for you?" Jongdae asks curiously. "We haven't seen you at all."
"Effective," Jongin says. Kyungsoo tosses him some salve, and he begins applying it to a huge stretch of irritated skin on his calf. "I hope." Kyungsoo stuns a mosquito with a lazy flick of his wrist. Jongdae tries the same and narrowly avoids hitting Baekhyun in the ass. "How's yours?"
Jongdae grins. "I think Heejin-noona almost made Baekhyun cry today."
"Only because of her beauty," Baekhyun retorts from where he's sprawled out on the veranda. Jongdae snorts. Jongin leans back and lets his muscles loosen.
He gets his broom back in mid-June, half a month before their opening qualifier against Bulgaria. Jiyong's on one of his own, a dusty Nimbus that looks like it's seen better days. "When you play with your club, against the other teams in the Asian League," he says, "you can afford to watch and wait for the right moment. And I'm not saying observation is bad. It's good. But you've never played against the European titans before. Every one of those Seekers is at your level or better, and right from the start of the match they're on." He kicks off from the ground and beckons for Jongin to follow. "You need to learn how to be more proactive."
Jiyong's face ripples once, twice, and then morphs into someone else's. Severe eyebrows, hooked nose, deep-set eyes. Broad shoulders, stocky build. When he's finished, Jongin's looking at Viktor Krum in the flesh. There's a flapping piece of gold clutched in his hand. He lets it go. Jongin watches the Snitch fly away, palms itching.
"Find it before I do," Jiyong says, and chuckles when Jongin zooms off in eager pursuit.
They scrimmage every day during the week leading up to the match. Coaches and reserve players vs. the starting line. Jiyong morphs into different positions and goes head-to-head with everyone, but he Seeks the most, and catches the Snitch more often than not-which is frustrating, to be sure, but also confusing. Because Jiyong's young. He went to school long before Jongin's time but he's still young enough (and good enough) to play for the League teams if he really wanted to. Still young enough to be on the World Cup team.
Jongin plucks up the nerve to ask about it the night before they Portkey to Sofia. "How come you never played professionally?" They're in the canteen. Baekhyun's doodling in the margins of his playbook. Jongin's supposed to be eating a late dinner, but the nervousness is ruining his appetite. On the far side of the room, the Beater coaches are going over last minute defensive plays with Chanyeol and Minseok.
Jiyong glances at him. "Isn't it obvious?"
Jongin shakes his head.
"I'm a Metamorphmagus," he says, tucking his hands underneath his thighs. Troy, Mullet, and Moran's features flash over his in quick succession. "Any team with me on it would have too much of an unfair advantage, see? I managed to play for school, but they wouldn't let me go pro."
"That sucks," Jongin offers lamely.
"It's okay. I think I like it better this way." He reaches up again and takes a contemplative sip of his seaweed soup. "The tabloids don't show up at my apartment with floating cameras and Quick-Quotes Quills."
"They don't do that to me, either."
"They will," Jiyong warns him. "Don't worry. They will."
*
[RECAP] China kicks off World Cup campaign with a 260 to 50 win over India
Written by Henry Lau
Quidditch Illustrated, July 2013 Issue
MUMBAI, India. (June 23, 2013) - The Chinese National Quidditch Team took control from the opening whistle and never looked back as they downed India 260 to 50 on Tuesday to open Group D's round robin qualifiers for the 2014 Quidditch World Cup, in front of a crowd of 20,305 at Kamadhenu Stadium.
The Wang Feifei-Meng Jia-Amber Liu Chaser trifecta proves formidable indeed, scoring thirty points apiece in the first two hours of the game. China next travels to Europe to face Spain at 10 p.m. GMT on Thursday, July 25, at Camp de les Corts in Barcelona.
"The team's in top form coming into the campaign, and I think this match illustrates the fruits of our efforts," said head coach Zhou Mi, who's going into his third round of World Cup prelims as coach for the national team. "Amber was an excellent addition to an already fantastic duo, and they created quite a few chances tonight. We could have scored a couple more goals if we'd converted those chances. Of course, India did an excellent job defending, so we'll have to take what we did here and push even further if we want to give Spain a run for their money in July."
Playing in rain-soaked conditions at the start of the game, China struck quickly after several early set piece opportunities. Liu purposely delayed her penalty goal at the bottom of the second hour to wait for Wang and Meng to get into position just to the left of the scoring area. In the end it paid off, with Wang following up a Liu reverse pass to tap home a goal from close range and give her team the lead.
The goal was Wang's fourth of the qualifying campaign and 23rd of the season.
India had one big winning opportunity in the second hour after Seeker Namor Abdul spotted the Snitch at the center of the pitch, but the Chinese Chasers managed to form an impromptu Hawkshead to distract him, and gameplay went on.
Though the Indian side gave it their best, China dominated the entire three hours of the game, with special thanks to Beaters Lu Han and Huang Zitao, who broke up most of the opposing Chaser formations. Two hours and fifty-seven minutes into the match, Chinese Seeker Zhang Yixing caught the Snitch at India's end of the pitch, just beyond the center goalpost.
"We have very high hopes for the rest of the year leading up to the finals," said Captain Kris Wu. "There are five more games in the round robin against the other teams in Group D. If we win all of them, we'll be top seed in the sweet sixteen, which is the ideal position. We're all very fired up to get there."
China now shifts its focus to their second qualifier in Spain next month.
(For an up-to-date schedule of qualifying games for Groups A-D, as well as individual player statistics, please see pages 21-24.)
*
They lose to Bulgaria.
It's not the end of the world. The round robin phase has never been sudden death, and every group sends four teams out of seven to the final bracket of sixteen. They can still get it back. Jongin knows these are the facts-but losing always feels like shit anyway, and he stumbles off the pitch with his broom clutched in his hands hard enough to blister, blood pounding behind his eyes, Krum's brusque good game bouncing around in his skull.
Someone sticks a camera in his face. There's a flash. Jongin blinks the afterimages away and scowls. "Kai-sshi," an anxious reporter says, almost tripping over himself. "How do you feel coming off this loss?"
"Like shit," he says, because it's the truth. He can see Jiyong beyond the press, eyebrows raised at his bluntness, and Jongin cannot bring himself to care.
"Excellent," Kyungsoo says, ducking into the locker room after him. "That's the only statement anyone's going to be quoting tomorrow."
"Not his fault he said what everyone was thinking," Jongdae mumbles.
It smells like feet in here, and broom oil, and failure. Jongin sinks onto a bench and stares at Joonmyun, head fuzzy with disappointment.
"According to Friday Night Lights," Baekhyun remarks, as Jiyong slides past the hangers-on and hungry journalists to join them, "this is when you're supposed to give us an uplifting pep talk, Coach."
Chanyeol looks confused. Jongdae muffles his chuckle in the sleeve of his robe.
Jiyong folds his hands into his pockets and nods at Joonmyun, who steps up, dirt-streaked and sweaty. He meets Jongin's eyes evenly. "There's nothing I can tell you right now that you don't already know. You did good out there. It wasn't good enough. We have another two months before you have to go back to your clubs for the fall season. Our next game's at the end of July, against India. All we can do is keep practicing."
*
Jongin shoots up like a weed between second and third year. Gain, who's finished studying to be a Mediwitch by then, spends the winter mixing potions for his growing pains. Jongin returns in February to Captain Chanyeol, whose first order of business is-
"Finding a Keeper," Chanyeol moans, scraggly orange hair falling into his face. He flops over on the common room couch, legs hanging over the armrest, and nearly rolls right off when Baekhyun's snowy owl flaps in through the dormitory door to announce his arrival. "Fuck, keep your birds away from me-"
"What kind of wizard are you?" comes Baekhyun's amused voice. He lugs his trunk inside with a loud huff. "Still afraid of a little owl? How do you even communicate?"
"If Professor Lee let us wire the castle for tele-what are those things again?"
"Telephones," Jongin offers.
"Yeah, telephones. Telephones are great."
"Muggle Technology Advocate Park Chanyeol," Baekhyun intones. "You should start a club."
Chanyeol lobs a throw pillow at him. "If we had those then all my problems would be solved."
"Not the Keeper problem," Kyungsoo says, trudging out from his room with an Arithmancy book under his arm. "Who's on the list?"
"There is no list," Chanyeol says, draping a forearm over his face. "Joonmyun-hyung's gone. So is Yuri-noona. No Keeper. No reserve."
The only people who show up for tryouts are the ones who want Hyoyeon's Beater position, which Jinri snaps up. Practice begins with Chanyeol filling in as interim-Keeper, but he still has to train Jinri. They can't play without a real Keeper.
It happens in late March, weeks before their first game against Mahoutokoro. Jongin's playing a game of pick-up Quidditch with Sehun. They're out back behind the castle after Potions, right on the edge of the woods stretching down south. Jongin's charmed a bunch of makeshift hoops to hover in the air. He dives with the Quaffle in the crook of his elbow and Sehun waits until the last minute to meet him, swings in to block his shot with the bristles of Jinri's broom.
A moment later, one of the third-floor windows flies open with a resounding crash. "Oh Sehun, I fucking see you," Chanyeol bellows, hanging halfway out the windowpane and flapping his arms like a deranged pixie. Hands drag him back inside before he can get another word in edgewise.
Sehun sends Jongin a bewildered look. Jongin tries really hard to keep a straight face. "Did you know the team's looking for a Keeper?"
Dawning comprehension crests over Sehun's face. "Oh, no," he says, hand flying to his mouth. "I don't even want to play-my mom is gonna kill me-"
Jongin glances down from where they're hovering. Chanyeol's burst out from the back of the castle. He's running toward them, scarf unwinding from around his neck. Sehun stares at him in horror and takes off on Jinri's Nimbus.
In retrospect, Jongin had maybe kind of done it on purpose. He knows the fourth years have Defense Against the Dark Arts on Tuesday afternoons, and that Chanyeol and the others will be winding down from Professor Choi's classroom to get to the cafeteria for dinner afterwards. Most importantly, he knows Sehun can fly. They've been friends for a long time, since Sehun's family moved into the house next to Jongin's and Sekang spent years pining after Gain. He knows that despite all of Sehun's posturing and the objections of his parents, who wanted their little boy to avoid anything that could cause him bodily injury, Sehun would secretly be delighted to join the team.
Jongin tells him so later that evening, after Chanyeol literally fly-tackled Sehun to the ground and forced him to agree to Keep, when he's helping Sehun move into the four-poster bed next to his.
"You are a really shitty friend," Sehun says flatly.
"I'm the best friend in the world," Jongin counters, and dives away when Sehun sends his new Keeper gloves sailing across the room at his head.
Quidditch aside, Jongin spends most of the year sitting in the library with his friends, attempting to stay awake or surreptitiously spell his acne away. Third years learn Apparition on a rolling basis as every student turns old enough, and Jongin finds himself with a natural affinity for it. He passes the test on his first try.
"It feels like I'm trying to squeeze myself through a tube of toothpaste," Sehun says in May, face screwed up with concentration. For Jongin, it feels a little bit like flying. Focusing so hard on being somewhere else that his body can't help but hurtle toward it until he's-there, the air splitting open to make room for him with a thunderous crack.
That summer, the fourth years go on an exchange trip to America. They return in August laughing about dongs and bangs for some reason or another. Kyungsoo just shakes his head when Jongin asks about it. "Chanyeol almost got himself killed when we went into Muggle Los Angeles," Baekhyun reveals at lunch their first day back, snickering into his bulgogi. "He ran into the glass of a revolving door."
"I thought it would just disappear, come on-"
"I see Muggle Studies has done nothing for you," Kyungsoo says.
"Having Muggleborn best friends should've done the trick-"
"Sorry Pureblood and stupidity go hand-in-hand," Jongdae sing-songs. "Must be all the inbreeding."
Jongin moves aside when Chanyeol leaps over the lunch table to grab at Jongdae.
Later on that week, he and Jinri come down to see Chanyeol slumped over the same table, Kyungsoo absently rubbing his back as he reviews his Potions notes.
"What happened to him?" Jinri asks, poking Chanyeol's arm.
"Transfiguration was rough," Baekhyun whispers, scooting over to let them slide in next to him. "We've been doing Animagus stuff on-and-off all year and Chanyeol finally-"
"This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," Chanyeol mumbles, voice muffled by the wood. He pounds the table with his fist.
"He's a ferret," Baekhyun says, mouth twitching. Jongdae's shoulders are shaking with suppressed mirth.
"Oh," Jinri says, studiously avoiding everyone's gaze. Jongin starts laughing, can't help himself, and Chanyeol raises his head to shoot him a hurt look.
"I'm a dog," Baekhyun continues. "Samoyed. Jongdae's-"
"Siamese cat," Jongdae finishes, mouth curling.
"What about you, Kyungsoo-oppa?" Jinri asks.
Kyungsoo looks up from his notes. "Wolf," he replies, smiling with teeth.
"That's so cool," Jongin says, enthused.
Chanyeol makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat as he slumps over again. "So unfair."
The moping doesn't last long, though-in September, when the third years are learning about Boggarts in DADA (Jongin's worst fear is a broken broom, to Sehun's intense amusement), the fourth years are casting Patronuses. Chanyeol bursts into the common room a week before Chuseok, wand already whipped out to show his off. The white animal that bursts out of the tip spreads its elegant wings and flies over Sehun and Jongin's heads to perch above the fireplace. It's a-
"Phoenix," Chanyeol announces, eyes bright. He leaps up onto one of the desks and does a little jig, nearly knocks Sehun's textbooks onto the floor. "So badass."
"You see why we don't want good things for him?" Baekhyun demands. "He's unbearable." He drops his bag on the ground and folds himself into an armchair. "Chanyeol, this does nothing to negate your status as King of the Ferrets." Chanyeol happily ignores him.
A thought occurs to Jongin. "I thought you hated birds," he remarks.
"Not the same thing at all," Chanyeol says, beckoning for his Patronus. It lands on his shoulder and he grins like an idiot. "Phoenixes are awesome. Owls are creepy." He shudders, and the phantom phoenix vanishes with a puff of air.
Dong Bang doesn't make it past the top sixteen youth teams that year. Part of it has to do with a magical mishap in October; Jongdae does something funny with his wand during class and accidentally Transfigures Baekhyun into a teapot. It takes Madame Shin a week to turn him back. Jongin sits with him in the hospital wing a couple of hours before their match against Japan, reading excerpts from Quidditch Through the Ages at the irate porcelain. Honestly, Jongdae did a pretty good job. Baekhyun's patterning is very pretty.
At any rate, Mahoutokoro trounces them 250 to 40 despite Jinho's best efforts to fill in. Jongin's neighborhood friend Taemin, whose parents send him to Japan for school, fools him with a Wronski and outflies him for the Snitch. Jongin wallows in his misery for two days before Chanyeol smuggles the entire team off the grounds and into Daegu for a night out on the town.
Baekhyun's pale face looms out from underneath his hood as they creep through the gate. "Welcome back, hyung," Jongin whispers.
"Yeah, yeah," he croaks. "Jongdae's buying all my drinks tonight."
In actual fact, they meet Joonmyun at the club, and he buys all their drinks. "Gotta use my ridiculous paycheck for something," he explains, brandishing several Galleons.
"This is totally illegal," Sehun says, and snatches the first shot out of Joonmyun's hands with gusto.
Somehow, Jongin ends up on the dance floor squashed in between Moonkyu, who can dance, and Chanyeol, who decidedly cannot. He's tipsy enough after half a Firewhiskey to not even care about stepped-on toes, and he doesn't bat an eyelash when he stumbles away an hour later and sees Sehun and Jinri making out in a corner.
They're too loud sneaking back in at dawn and get caught by Professor Lim, the Potions Mistress, who assigns them all a month's worth of detention scrubbing cauldrons.
"Was it worth it?" Soojung asks them at breakfast. Jongin groans into his congee, fantastically hungover. Sehun and Jinri aren't looking at each other. Jinho and Moonkyu are dozing off onto each other's shoulders. Soojung blinks. "I hope you all did the History of Magic paper that's due today."
"Fuck," says Jongin.
*
They beat India in July and England in August. Joonmyun's arm gets broken an hour into the second game and Jongin catches the Snitch right in the nick of time, twenty points before the score stretches beyond his ability to correct it.
Three down. Three more to go.
The morning after England, the team breaks up again for the fall club season. Baekhyun and Kyungsoo return to Incheon to play for the Imps. Chanyeol goes back to Seoul, Joonmyun to Daegu. Minseok and Jongdae Portkey to Beijing and Shanghai.
Jongin returns to a trashed apartment in Toyohashi. He touches the tip of his wand to the trailing remnants of his wards, and they tell him paparazzi and tabloid magazine, the aftereffects of flurried hands rifling through his closet and underneath his bed. Nothing was taken, but the sick drip of dread still trickles down his spine.
"You need to move into a better neighborhood," Hyein says through a Fire-call, after Jongin's cleaned up as much as he can and established a couple of stronger wards. "Like, a place with actual security. Your paycheck's ridiculous, Jongin. Why don't you use it for your own benefit?"
"Yeah," Jongin says, swallowing. He watches her concerned face flicker in the flames. "I know."
He's wanted to move into a bigger apartment for a while, but he hadn't thought it would be because of this. They're only halfway through the qualifying campaign and the tabloids are already coming for him. The attention's weird, invasive, uncomfortable. It only gets worse. A week after his first match of the club season, he gets a disguised Muggle utility bill that turns out to be wired with some sort of magical recording device. Jongin only realizes when it starts smoking in the envelope and he has to toss it out.
Juggling between club and country is more of a struggle than he'd anticipated. Toyohashi's semifinal against Kyoto ends up running for the better part of a week, and Jongin just misses Korea's fourth qualifier against China. He wins with the Tengu. Korea loses against China, even though his replacement, Seungri, tries his best. Jongin gets a slew angry Owls criticizing him for shirking his national team duties. Jongin sits in bed and rewatches play-by-plays of Yixing catching the Snitch for an entire weekend before Yuya shows up at his front step and drags him out of the apartment.
"To get some fresh air," he tells Jongin, eyebrows cocked knowingly.
They go to one of the Muggle bars outside the stadium. Japan's too small for pure Wizarding districts, but the gin and tonic Yuya gets him burns all the way down to his stomach just as much as any Firewhiskey.
"There's no use getting worked up about this stuff," Yuya advises, when they're three drinks in and Jongin's tongue is loose enough to wag. "I've gotten a lot of nasty threats over Chasing for Japan. Everyone thinks they know how you should play. Quidditch fans can be very intense." He smiles. "You should know. You were one once, too."
"Is this considered fraternizing with the enemy, then?" Jongin wonders aloud. Japan's been taking Group A by storm. They've only lost once: against Germany, 400 to 230-and that was only because their Seeker, Mizuhara Kiko, had been otherwise occupied by her own club season.
"Not yet," Yuya says, grinning. He knocks back another shot of something amber-colored. "Maybe once we get to the sweet sixteen."
"I promise not to sabotage you before then," Jongin says into the rim of his glass.
Yuya snorts. "I'd like to see you try, pretty boy."
*
Asia's Fiercest Fliers: The Ladies of Team China
Written by Yura Park
Witch Weekly Asia, February 1, 2014
After China's phenomenal win against Bulgaria in January, the three Chasers took some time out of their schedules to have a little chat with me. I was surprised at first that they'd agreed to the interview; with the qualifying round robins for all four groups heading into their twilight stages, these players are all busier than ever. But despite their superstardom China's Chasers remain gracious, and Holyhead Harpies Beater Amber Liu expressed special interest in meeting, professing to be a huge fan of the magazine.
The first thing I'm struck by when they walk into the sports bar is the extreme comfort they exude. When I mention this out loud, Meng Jia and Liu grin at each other. Wang Feifei ducks her head, but she's smiling, too. The second thing is, of course, their beauty. Liu has her hair cropped short in a signature cut she's worn ever since she became a rising star in the British and Irish Quidditch League. Wang is an honest-to-God queen in real life, sophisticated and dignified, wavy hair sweeping down past her shoulder blades. Meng constantly smiles, hands shoved into the pockets of her neon-colored hoodie. The next hour and a half we spent chatting about boys, Bludgers, and the state of international Quidditch.
WW: Well, first thing's first. How about last night's game?
Wang: Bulgaria's amazing. It was a tremendous privilege being able to play against them.
Liu: I hope they make it into the top sixteen bracket so we can play them again.
Meng: Krum is also really hot, in a Neanderthal kind of way? (laughs) Oops, am I not supposed to say that kind of thing?
WW: You can say anything you want!
Meng: In that case...
Wang: (laughs) Control yourself, Jia.
WW: How do you feel about the rest of the qualifying campaign?
Wang: We've got two more games left: one against England, and the other against Transylvania. As the stats stand now, we're definitely qualifying, so that's a bit of pressure off our shoulders. But we want to finish strong, and being top seed in Group D would give us an advantage going into the knockout round of the tournament.
WW: What's your workout regimen like?
Liu: It's not so much a workout regimen as it is a lifestyle, really. Quidditch is a pretty high-impact sport. You have to do your best to keep up. During the season I'm up at six every morning to go for runs before two hours of Chaser drills on the pitch. In the afternoon we fit in three more hours of scrimmage and then some weight lifting in the in-house gym. China's facilities are pretty excellent.
Meng: I started dancing when I was really young and it's something I still love. Almost as much as I love Quidditch, so sometimes I'll do that to wind down in the evenings.
WW: Amber, the Harpies signed you right out of school. What's it like to be playing with boys again?
Liu: Terrible. (laughs) No, no, the guys are great. Everyone's great, really. I expected there to be more of a transition period coming into this just because I didn't train in that system growing up, but everyone was incredibly welcoming. Our coach made sure of that. I'm really lucky to be here.
Meng: Aw, that's so sweet.
Liu: This one, though...
Meng: Hey!
Liu: In all seriousness, Fei and Jia are like sisters to me. Zitao might look tough but he's like that little brother you love to pester just to see him react. It's cute. Lu Han's older than all of us but he acts half his age. Kris-well-
Meng: He tries.
Liu: Tries to keep the peace. It's sweet, really.
Meng: Fei's much better at it than he is.
Wang: Only because you two are the troublemakers. He never knows what to do!
Liu: You love it.
Meng: We light up your life.
WW: As role models for a large number of young witches out there, what kind of advice would you like to impart?
Liu: Oh God, I don't know if I'm old enough to be considered a role model for anybody.
Wang: Jia and I grew up in China's Quidditch system, and we didn't actually get a lot of playing time until our early twenties. We're girls, of course, so that's always a factor, even now. We spent years training and often it was like-
Meng: It seemed like there was never a light at the end of the tunnel.
Wang: The biggest thing is to not give up, as cheesy as it sounds.
Meng: I actually quit training for about a year, and it was the worst decision of my life. Keep at it, even when it feels like nothing's happening. I promise, your hard work will be rewarded.
Liu: Man. Now I feel like I need to say something serious, too.
WW: No pressure! Say the first thing that pops into your head.
Liu: Do what you love, fuck the rest.
Meng: Also very original.
Liu: Shut up, Jia.
WW: I'll be rooting for you all in the coming months!
Liu: But your younger brother plays for Korea, doesn't he?
Wang: (laughs) Oh no, have we been consorting with the enemy this entire time?
WW: (laughs) I assure you, nothing about that particular familial relationship will color what I report.
Wang: (laughs) If anything happens, we'll just sic the team's PR agent on you. Victoria is very good at what she does.
Meng: Wait, your brother's Park Chanyeol?
*
> > > PART 2 > > >
Pairing: kai-centric
Rating: pg13
Genre: au, gen, slice-of-life
Warnings: swearing, mild violence
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: professional quidditch au. ft. copious amounts of chinguline, 94line, and suho. for michaelwesten. ~18,600 words.
All Jongin has ever wanted to do is fly.
When he is five years old, Gain leaves her kiddie broom out on the lawn, hovering uncertainly over their mother's best mugunghwa bush. He curls his stubby fingers around the handle and feels the wood thrum to life in his palm. Warm and solid, like a heartbeat. He swings his knee over the slim branch and manages to coax it up far enough for his mother to faint when she walks out the front door and sees just how high he is.
Jongin remembers thinking-after his father brought him back down to earth with a swish of his wand and pulled him inside the house for a stern talking to, Hyein waving smelling salts underneath Mom's nose-he remembers thinking: it wasn't even that high. He remembers thinking I want to go higher, the broom shuddering between his legs as he pushed it past the charmed two-meter height boundary, bare toes skimming the uppermost branches of the oak tree in the yard, his hands reaching for the blue sky and ribboning clouds beyond.
*
"Come on," Baekhyun's saying. "Up and at 'em, tiger."
Jongin yawns, still drowsy. He peers through a crack in the sheets and grunts something unintelligible. It's definitely too early for anyone to be in his apartment, even if they were spelled into his wards.
And they're in Japan. The club season's still in full swing. Baekhyun should be-not here. He should be in Gwangju, en route to an exhibition match with the rest of the Incheon Imps.
"What are you doing in my house?" he mumbles, tongue heavy with sleep. It comes out sounding more like whuh do in huzz, but Baekhyun seems to understand.
He regards Jongin with gentle disdain. "Did you forget? Of course you did. I fucking knew it." He leans forward and undoes a little bit of the blanket cocoon. Jongin's face pokes out into the cold air. "Call-ups are today. I got my Owl already." He brandishes an official-looking letter in his hand. "Floo'd here right away." He wrinkles his nose. "You really need to clean out your grate, son."
Jongin sits up in bed so fast his head swims. Baekhyun's eyes crinkle. As if on cue, a tap echoes from outside Jongin's dingy window. Through the glass, he can see a magnificent eagle owl perched on the ledge, orange eyes staring beadily at him.
He unfolds himself from the blankets as Baekhyun settles cross-legged on his bed, and moves to the window in a daze. The owl flaps inside and perches imperiously on his outstretched arm. Jongin carries it to the kitchenette and pulls a half-empty box of stale mouse-shaped treats out of one of the cupboards.
"Sorry," he mutters. "This is all I have." The owl ruffles its feathers and chokes two treats down as Jongin unties the envelope from around its leg. He breaks the seal and walks back out into the bedroom again, eyes scanning the looping handwriting underneath the fancy letterhead.
Dear Kim Jongin-sshi,
On behalf of the Korean National Team, I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected as first-choice Seeker for the 2014 World Cup line-up. Team practices will begin at the end of the club season, on May 23rd, 2013. Attached is a detailed schedule of dates, times, and locations for practice as well as qualifying games leading up to the final next July, along with a list of the starting seven and available reserves.
We hope to see you on the pitch in May.
Kwon Jiyong
Head Coach
When he looks up again, Baekhyun's eyebrows are raised. "Well?"
"I'm Seeking for the national team," he says. "First string." His blood runs hot, then cold, then hot again, singing through his veins. Baekhyun lets out a loud whoop and starts saying something about foregone conclusions. Jongin sinks down at the edge of the bed. He hadn't dared let himself hope. There were so many other viable options. Veterans of the sport who would've all been safer picks, people far more experienced than he was. But-no. They'd chosen him. Jongin's the one with the letter in his hands.
"Boot camp in May," Baekhyun says, grinning. His teeth flash in the morning light. "You ready, wonder boy? We're going to the World Cup, baby."
*
By the time he's thirteen, Quidditch is the only thing Jongin knows how to carry with conviction-he can't do basic Arithmancy or read ancient runes to save his life, isn't good with hexes and jinxes like his sisters are-so he carries it all the way to Dong Bang Hakgyo of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"First years," the sweet-faced captain says, staring down at Jongin's skinny frame shivering on the pitch at dawn, "aren't allowed to try out for the varsity team."
"You can join reserve, though," pipes the towering second year standing at his elbow. He eyes Jongin's Dragonbolt with keen interest and taps his finger down the list in the captain's hand. "Kim Jongin, right?"
The other hopefuls totter onto the field and start lining up behind Jongin, blinking sleep out of their eyes and mumbling about Potions essays and late night readings in the Astronomy tower. Jongin stamps his feet against the dirt, heat rushing along his skin despite the February cold. None of these words mean anything to him-he just wants to fly.
"I'm Chanyeol," the second year continues. "Beater." Chanyeol grins, extending a hand. "So let's see what you can do."
Jongin's kicked off from the ground before the challenge is even all the way out of Chanyeol's mouth, winter wind whistling in his ears.
"Hey!" Chanyeol calls from below. "We haven't even gotten what position you want to try-" And then Jongin's drifting out of earshot, riding the cold air currents up and up.
He hasn't flown properly with anyone else in months. Since autumn sloughed off the last of its warmth, and the neighborhood kids decided freezing their asses off to play street Quidditch in the snow wasn't worth it anymore. But it comes to him again as easy as it always does: palm clenched loose around the handle, knees bent over the Cushion charm, eyes vaguely tracking the other fliers in his peripheral vision. When he turns toward the ground, everyone still huddled on the pitch looks tiny.
Someone must've cast a Sonorous charm, because the next thing Jongin hears is the captain's disembodied voice, as if spoken directly into his ear. "My name is Kim Joonmyun, Quidditch captain. We appreciate your interest in the team! Please take ten laps around the stadium as a warm-up," he says. "We want to pick a Seeker first, so we'll be letting the Snitch out shortly."
Jongin trails behind most of the others, swinging smoothly around the flag-posts. On the sixth lap, Chanyeol rises up on his dark brown Hyundai to fly with him, a bemused expression on his face.
"Why are you going so slow?"
"What's the hurry?" Jongin replies, nudging his broom through the next turn. He takes in the wooden barricades in front of the bleachers, soggy from snow, and dips closer to the ground during the next lap. "You miss things when you go too fast."
Truthfully, Jongin's never been on the other side of a real Quidditch pitch before. His dad took him to an Imps game once, when he was ten years old and barely tall enough to see over the railing, and it'd been so much better to watch the Chasers weave through complicated plays in real time than through the grainy moving pictures in the match recaps in Quidditch Illustrated. Makeshift goalposts set up in the streets or at the park could only recreate a pitch so far. He'd watched Phoenix 3000s twisting and tumbling in the air after the Snitch, afterimages burned into his eyelids, and thought, I want to be there.
Jongin doesn't wait for Chanyeol's reply before zooming forward without warning, air whistling through the bristles behind him. He grins as he outpaces everyone else on the last lap and pulls to a steady stop over the center of the field, watching Joonmyun fiddle with the ball box.
"Good luck," he says, voice curling over Jongin's shoulder. He unstraps the Snitch. Jongin catches the flash of gold, halfway down the pitch already. He blinks twice and it's gone.
It starts snowing in the middle of their search, to general dismay. Jongin keeps circling high above the flag-posts, heart beating in his throat, struggling to see through the flakes floating down. Half an hour later, he notices something shimmering twenty meters above the center hoop on the far end of the field, and frowns when the one shining spot splits into two, both of them flitting downward in tandem. He glances away for as long as he dares; no one else seems to have noticed.
Two Snitches?
He slides slowly past a Nimbus going in the other direction, trying not to draw too much attention to himself, eyes pinned on the gold. He tunes out the faint shouting once he's sped up enough into his sharp dive, vision tunneling in on their erratic parallel trajectories. If he reached out with one hand he could try to swipe both of them, but as Jongin bears down-almost vertical to the ground at this point, squinting against the wind, five, four, three scant meters away-the two Snitches break apart. No, he thinks, gritting his teeth, throwing his body forward. His hands spring off the handle of the broom and he stretches his arms out as wide as they'll go, feet braced against the wet bristles and thighs clamping tight around the shaft. The first Snitch smacks into his palm and he wrenches his torso to the right, fingers straining for the second as its wingtips brush against his skin, and then-
He's got it. Them. Two sets of wings flutter feebly in his grasp.
Jongin's legs scream in protest as he drags them up to level the broom out five meters above the wet grass. His face is streaked with moisture: mostly melted snowflakes, but also tear tracks from the sheer force of the plunge. He coasts to a halt in front of Joonmyun and Chanyeol and what looks like the rest of the returning team, nearly trips when he staggers off his broom, legs wobbling, breath rattling in and out of his chest.
"Holy shit," Chanyeol says, stunned. "He caught both of them." He takes the Snitches out of Jongin's outstretched hands. "I didn't even tell them there were two, what the fuck?"
Someone's pounding Jongin on the shoulder. "No one's ever done that before-"
"Uh," Jongin tries, but he's drowned out by the excited chatter. He clutches his broom to his chest.
"You have to talk to Coach," Chanyeol tells Joonmyun, arms akimbo. "He's too fucking good for reserve."
"I'll talk to him," Joonmyun agrees. He's smiling. Jongin relaxes. "Welcome to the team."
"Oh." His mind's as blank as a new piece of parchment. All he can think to say is: "Thank you."
*
After the Tengus' last game of the season (the league final for the Asian Cup, which they win by a narrow margin against the Beijing Bixie), Jongin goes home.
Home-which means Korea. Not the tiny studio in Toyohashi. Home means his parents' house right outside Seoul proper, in the magical residential district that runs along the countryside. The others all live in apartments in the heart of Wizarding Gangnam, downtown's hustle and bustle bleeding into every facet of day-to-day life. He'd rather not crash there. He only has a week before boot camp commences. The Imps got kicked out of the bracket in early May, and the Gumiho and Dokkaebi a couple of weeks before that. Jongin's the only one on the Korean national team who lasted all the way to the end of the club season. Now, he needs the rest, and the quiet.
His teammates in Japan had wanted him to stay for the usual celebrations. "It's only your third season here, and your first winning with us," Yuya wheedled. "The party goes on for weeks. We're hometown heroes. You should experience it." He smiled, and their coach, Ikuta Toma, nodded along beside him. "You helped us get here."
But Jongin's never really been interested in the flip side of pro Quidditch: the parties, the booze, the late nights, shiny magazine spreads and international fame. Everything that happens off the pitch and in front of the cameras. (Basically you're boring as hell, Baekhyun always says, when Jongin declines another invitation to go out for drinks with the boys.) Jongin prefers to think of it as single-minded prioritizing. He'd rather keep the warm hum of satisfaction tucked away in his chest-or lay it all out on the grass after winning a match, the Snitch fluttering against his palm and the floating floodlights bathing everything in gold.
So he Floos home the day after they win. Dad grabs his bags and pats him on the shoulder. Mom gives him a bottle of banana milk and ushers him up the stairs. It's good to be back, stuck in his old bedroom, still plastered floor to ceiling with moving posters of the Quidditch greats. He watches for a minute as Gwenog Jones sends a Bludger shooting toward Noriyuki Sato, who escapes with the Quaffle out of frame just in time. Krum nosedives into a Wronski Feint above the headboard. Jongin faceplants into the rickety old bed, broomstick sheets stretched over the mattress, and sleeps for twenty hours straight.
*
Organic Development vs. State-run Machines: The Roots of Modern Quidditch in East Asia
Written by Jiaheng Li
Quidditch Illustrated, June 2013 Issue
As members of the International Quidditch Association launch into the long qualifying stretch leading up to the Wizarding World's biggest sporting event, the eyes of their audiences turn to Asia. With next year's finals being held for the first time outside of Europe, in a soaring new stadium being constructed for this very purpose in Liaoning Province, the same controversies and discussions that first surfaced when China became the newest member of the Association in 1997 are being revisited.
Since their admission in the early 1900s, Japan has slowly but steadily risen in Quidditch prominence over the years. They peaked in 2002, arriving at the finals in Edinburgh in top form with Keeper Sho Sakurai leading the team and phenomenal Seeker Kazunari Ninomiya, but were defeated by Scotland 540 to 300 in a fierce game that stretched over two days.
A surprise contender and something of a dark horse in this campaign, South Korea joined the Association quietly in 1990 but didn't gain much traction until the late 2000s, when new head coach Kwon Jiyong took over for Yang Hyunsuk and cobbled together an elite staff to train the next generation of fliers. This year, thanks to new blood in the form of star Toyohashi Tengu Seeker Kim Jongin, should be their best showing yet.
But the team everyone's talking about is, of course, China.
After its induction in 1997 (a gesture of goodwill toward a Ministry that was finally opening itself up to public scrutiny since Chairman Mao's magical government forced the previous Muggle regime to Taiwan) China's meteoric explosion of talent and victory has been something of a centerpiece topic for even the most casual Quidditch fan. A virtual nobody at the outset, the Chinese National Team has since reached the World Cup semifinals twice (in 2002 and 2010) and the finals once, in 2006, before being defeated by Transylvania.
The difference between China and other teams, and the possible reason behind its tremendous success, is rooted in the way they're formed. Japan and Korea train their players in homegrown, organic environments and schoolyard play at Mahoutokoro and Dong Bang Schools for Witchcraft and Wizardry. In comparison, Chinese Quidditch players are selected at a very young age for their talent and begin training immediately afterward in state-run institutions designed to develop their abilities and maximize their fortes. Competition is fierce and nothing is guaranteed. Coupled with the biggest wizarding gene pool in the world, it's no wonder China has some of the best rising Quidditch players in modern times. Their constant precision and seamless teamwork as a result of their non-stop training is certainly something to be admired.
China's approach to choosing and training its future athletes belies a deeper political issue: the separation of magic and Muggle state. Unlike most other Ministries of Magic, which work with their Muggle counterparts to maintain peace and order in the country, the only government in China has been a magical one since the retreat of the Kuomintang in 1949, kept under thin wraps from the larger public. With the magical elite occupying so much of the upper echelon of politics and society, its representatives in wizarding sports have also been similarly controlled, for better or for worse. Commentators and analysts who criticize China's political foundation criticize its Quidditch infrastructure in kind, deriding it as nothing more than a machine pumping out brainless automatons that will only be thrown away when they are too old to play anymore. They say manufacturing players bleeds the romanticism and meaning out of a sport as old as Merlin himself.
Chinese Quidditch, though, is changing too. The World Cup team roster was released earlier this year to great uproar. With Canada-raised Kris Wu as Captain and Keeper, Chaser Amber Liu from Los Angeles, and Beater Lu Han, the first state-supported player to leave the country and play for a foreign club, several members of the Communist government have made their unhappiness very clear. However, despite all controversy (and quite a few blatant death threats), head coach Zhou Mi has refused to budge. In a recent press conference addressing these issues, Zhou said, "After an abysmal semifinal against Argentina in 2010, I need players who can adapt. The team fell apart when [Chaser] Han Geng passed out halfway through the match. China's youth programs are good at what they do, but I want to train players who will think outside the box in worst-case scenarios. I think I've chosen a team that can do that."
Training for most national teams, including China's, commenced at the end of the club season in May, right on schedule. Asia's behemoths are gearing up for as entertaining a fight as ever.
Interesting times to be going into the latest cycle of the Quidditch World Cup, to say the least.
(For a full list of players and teams, updated on the hour, please see page 59.)
*
"Shit, Jongin," Chanyeol says over breakfast, spitting bits of egg across the dining table at an unimpressed Kyungsoo. "Dude. You're in Quidditch Illustrated."
Baekhyun nearly knocks a bowl of oatmeal over in his haste to snatch the magazine out of Chanyeol's hands. "Oh my God," he coos, to Jongin's severe alarm. "How cute-"
"I mean, it's mostly about the Chinese team," Chanyeol amends. He swallows around the last bite of omelet. "But you got a mention, and a photo!"
Baekhyun jams the glossy magazine in Jongin's face. "Have a look, hotshot."
He stares down at the centerfold. The article seems like any other Quidditch op-ed that's come out in the past three months, but blinking up from the corner of the opposite page is-him at eighteen, freshly signed with the Tengu, holding silver team robes in his left hand and Ikuta's handshake in his right.
Jongin groans. "They couldn't have used a more recent picture? I still have a bowl cut in this."
"It's adorable," Baekhyun maintains. "You look twelve." Jongin hides his flush behind a piece of toast.
He'd arrived at camp via Portkey last night. The entire thing is set up in the backwater countryside of South Gyeonsang Province, the wetlands where nobody ever goes. A massive stadium rises up before the gray backdrop of low-riding mountains. Joonmyun met him at the gates to their temporary lodgings, looking young and fresh as ever, already dressed in training robes.
"Just like old times," he said, reaching for Jongin's trunk.
"Not quite," Jongin replied, taking in the thin spires poking into the sky and the flags fluttering in the wind, but he'd smiled back anyway.
Now, Joonmyun's sitting next to Minseok two tables over, conversing lowly with the Keeper coach, their heads bent together over a panorama of the three rings. Going over defensive plays, probably. Jongin's about to dig into his food again when the door to the canteen flies open-and he freezes, fork halfway to his mouth, because that's Harry fucking Potter standing in the doorway, what the fuck?
Heads swivel as Harry strides to the front of the room. Chanyeol finds his voice first, camera-smile fixed in place, a hand outstretched. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Potter," he says, in clunky English.
Harry takes the hand and shakes it, crows' feet pulling at the corners of his eyes. Jongin keeps staring, trying to grapple with this reality in his head. Harry turns to study the others, and then his gaze lands on Jongin. Sharpens. Jongin inhales sharply through his nose, fingers clenching around his fork. No one's ever looked at him like that before. Like he's seen Jongin and found him lacking.
And then Harry's face ripples-the flyway brown hair turns a soft pink, the green eyes flicker dark. Coffee-colored. His chin sharpens, build shrinking a couple of inches. In seconds, someone else is standing where the Boy who Lived was not a moment ago, hands stuck casually into the pockets of his jeans, a smirk playing at his lips. Kwon Jiyong.
"Neat party trick, huh?" he says into the pregnant silence. The cafeteria erupts into frenzied conversation. Jongin hadn't known their coach was a Metamorphmagus. Neither, it seems, had many of the rest.
Jiyong waves his hand. The chatter subsides. He rocks forward on the balls of his feet, eyes bright.
"Welcome to boot camp. I'm glad you all could make it." He pulls his wand out of his pocket and swishes it. A stack of parchment materializes at the end of the breakfast buffet table. Jiyong waves his wand again and sheets fly all over the room. Jongin plucks his out of the air and bends down to read it. "These are personalized practice schedules stretching all the way to the end of June, right before our first qualifying match. Aside from group practice, you'll be working one-on-one with specialized coaches for your positions. These times are labeled out accordingly. We start together on the pitch in an hour, so eat as much as you like before then, but don't be late. A lack of regard for punctuality will not be tolerated."
He pauses. Jongin looks up, and jumps a little when he realizes Jiyong's been gazing at him the entire time.
"There's something else I should say, so it's all out in the open at the beginning." Baekhyun sits up straighter on Jongin's left. Kyungsoo leans forward over his food, rapt with attention. "Some of you might be wondering why you're here. I didn't choose you because you're the best." Chanyeol makes a soft affronted noise from across the table. Jiyong sends him an amused look. "You're very good, obviously. But there are better."
"Why did you choose us?" Jongdae asks, eyebrows hiked.
"Because you're new. Still willing to learn." Jiyong shrugs. "Last time, the team I put together was full of top-of-the-line players set in their ways. All ego. They didn't think there was room for improvement, and they certainly didn't want to share the glory with any of their teammates." He shakes his head. "You guys know each other. Most of you have played with one another before. Training with us isn't going to be easy. Don't make the same mistake as your predecessors. Prove it to yourself that we made the right choice."
Baekhyun's chewing on his thumbnail. Jongin shifts in his chair, food forgotten. Joonmyun catches his eye, jaw set.
"If you don't think this is for you, then you're free to go. I'm sure any number of players would die to be in your position."
Jiyong waits a beat. No one moves.
"So you're ready for this?"
Jongin's nodding before the question even drops out of his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the others bobbing their heads too.
Jiyong smiles. It's sharp, almost dangerous. "Then let's begin."
*
If Jongin had his way, school would be eating, breathing, and living Quidditch every minute of every day. Unfortunately for him, athletes are apparently expected to maintain at least a Satisfactory mark in every class they take. No, Hyein writes, in response to one of his letters. I absolutely will not write your Transfiguration essays for you. I mean, first of all, Professor Song would kill me. A couple of paragraphs later, though, she says: If you need my help, I'm a Fire-call away.
Joining the Quidditch team is like being automatically inducted into a high profile, highly exclusive clique. Jongin's first year, it goes like this: Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and Jongdae Chase, Chanyeol and Minseok Beat, and Joonmyun Keeps. They have a different dorming situation than everyone else: instead of living in the south tower with the other students, the athletes are nestled in a corner of the castle that leads right out onto the green between the north gate and the stadium. Jongin rooms with Jinho and Moonkyu, the reserve Chasers. Coach turns out to be a glorified name for their faculty advisor, Professor Kang, who deals with all the logistics regarding transport to and from away games and making sure they don't fall behind on their schoolwork.
And anytime they aren't in class, asleep, or wolfing down food in the Great Hall-they're on the pitch. Even the reserve players, who are occasionally called upon to play in a match when someone falls ill with Dragon Pox or has a family emergency they need to go home for. Practice begins in earnest at the end of February and continues throughout mud-splattered March and dreary April, countless hours running drills in the rain. Joonmyun's mild-mannered enough under normal circumstances, but becomes a veritable taskmaster during the lead-up to a big game. Once, after particularly grueling practice the night before, Jongin falls asleep in History of Magic and gets a week's worth of detention dusting reference books for his trouble. (He manages to pull himself through classes with the help of Kyungsoo's copious notes from the previous year.)
It's alright, though. He doesn't hate it. For all their complaining, he doesn't think any of the others do, either. Jongin likes feeling the clean burn in his thighs after a long afternoon on the pitch, the sting of sweat in eyes, wind singing underneath him. If it makes him better, he'll do anything.
They get to the semifinals of the Asia Youth League Cup during Jongin's second year. It's Joonmyun's fifth. He's graduating in December. In October, when he realizes they've qualified for the semis, he writes up a practice schedule for the next month that makes Jongin's head spin.
"It's his last chance, and this is the closest we've ever gotten," Chanyeol tells him, sloughing mud off his robes in the locker room with slapdash flicks of his wand. "My first year, when Minho was Captain, we kept getting beaten by these ridiculous teams in China. Joonmyun-hyung can get a little manic about it."
"You're one to talk about manic," Baekhyun calls from the showers.
Chanyeol ignores the jibe. He shucks his top layer, rolling his shoulders, and whacks Jongdae's uncapped broom polish off the bench. Jongdae plunges after it with a yell. "It just means a lot to him, you know?" Chanyeol continues. "Some Very Important People are going to be at the finals. Joonmyun really wants to get there."
"Fifteen minutes for lunch on Fridays is a little much, though, don't you think?" Kyungsoo says dispassionately, surveying the timetable.
Jongin frowns. "What do you mean, important people?"
"Scouts," Baekhyun says, emerging from the shower, cheeks scrubbed pink. He snaps his towel at Jongdae, who yelps and shoots a spurt of cold water out of his wand at him in retaliation. "They'll be looking for players to sign." He scrabbles in the locker for his school robes. "I hear Daegu's trying to find a new Keeper."
Kyungsoo's head jerks up. "What happened to Yunho?"
"Vanished during their game against Shanghai last month," Baekhyun replies, snapping his fingers. "Poof."
"And their reserve Keeper?"
"Defected to Seoul."
"Shit," Jongdae breathes, collapsing hard on the bench.
There's a long pause. "I want to go pro," Jongin says to the room at large, and Chanyeol laughs.
"Ah, Jongin," he tuts, with an air of someone approaching middle age. He shoves his broom in his locker and pats Jongin's head before he can duck away. "The ambition of youth."
"You're only fifteen!" Jongin mutters. "That's not even old!"
"And you haven't showered yet," Kyungsoo says, grimacing. He waves his wand and sends of plume of floral dust spiraling in Jongin's face. "Go clean yourself up. Don't track mud back into the dorm."
Jongin scrubs a hand through his hair, still damp with sweat. "Fine," he grumbles, and swivels on his heel.
Their semifinal match is in Bangkok against Thailand's youth squad. They win 170 to 10 because Jongin gets lucky and catches the Snitch in the first thirty minutes, the game over almost before it'd even really begun.
The final takes place in early December against Beijing, at the state-run magnet school there. In the weeks leading up to it, Joonmyun walks around the castle with his nose stuck in a five-pound playbook and takes to giving the Chasers impromptu quizzes on attacking formations when he sees them in the halls.
They bring a whole entourage with them to China. Term exams end before they leave, and it feels like half the school's coming to watch. "No pressure or anything," Baekhyun mutters, peering out at the spectators before they march out onto the pitch. If Jongin squints, he thinks he can see Soojung and Sehun sitting in the stands, black and blue banners waved high.
It was already snowing before the match began, thick flakes blown sideways into Jongin's face from the howling wind. The weather only worsens as the game goes on. It's nearly blizzard status by the time Jongin first catches sight of the Snitch, hours later, winking at him from the other end of the pitch.
Beijing's Seeker is one Zhang Yixing. Joonmyun'd drilled the starting seven in all of their heads, to the point where Jongin could probably recite the entire roster in his sleep. Jongin wings by Yixing on his broom, still pretending to sweep the perimeter. His Warming Charm's slipping. He pulls his wand out of his sleeve and taps his own shoulder, feels the heat lick down across his torso. The Snitch hurtles down past Beijing's goal posts and jerks toward the audience. Jongin drifts down towards it, a little faster-past Hyoyeon, who's chasing after a Bludger, her goggles filmed over with frost.
Behind him, he hears Yixing give a faint shout. He'd spotted it too, then. Jongin dips into a forty-degree dive, heart leaping into his throat, eyes narrowing on the flash of gold, and-
Something hard and heavy slams into the back of his head. He somersaults with the broom and ends up attached only by a slipping hand around the shaft. The broom tailspins wildly. Jongin struggles to keep his eyes open past the pain. Twenty meters below, the referee's roaring something, mouth wide open in a shout, but Jongin can't hear a thing over the wind. He crashes into the slick wood of a flag-post and slides the rest of the way down, vision swimming, dropping to his knees on the grass.
The last thing he sees is Baekhyun's pinched, snarling face. Jongin tries to say go, you still have to play, stop worrying about me, but all he manages is a quivering groan before the stadium lights grow dim in the distance and everything goes dark.
There's a big celebratory banquet after the match. Jongin spends all of it in the Beijing school's hospital wing, groggy and concussed, his teammates dozing off around him.
"I saw him do it," Baekhyun's snapping when Jongin comes to. "Jongin was diving and their Beater, Tao or whatever, he-"
"We know," Kyungsoo mutters. He sounds tired. "He already apologized. Said it was an accident."
"Accident my ass-"
"Come on, Chanyeol, the guy looked horrified-"
Jongin opens his eyes. Jonghyun and Jongdae are snoring softly on the couch to his left. Baekhyun's pacing along his right, Quidditch robes still dripping onto the floor. "Hey," Jongin says around his tongue, trying to lift himself off the pillows. Chanyeol hops up from his chair and pushes him back. "Why aren't you at the-thing-" He exhales noisily when he sees Joonmyun at the foot of the bed. "The scouts-you should be-did we win?"
"Nobody blames you," Joonmyun says kindly, and Jongin's stomach clenches. "Yixing caught the Snitch. We lost 190 to 80."
"Oh." Jongin blinks. Turns the score in his head. 190 minus 150. "That means you only let-"
"Yeah," Joonmyun says, looking pleased. He opens his mouth again but Chanyeol bulldozes over him, loud as ever.
"Daegu signed him right off the pitch," he says, voice cracking with excitement. "He'll be starting in the spring, can you believe it?"
Baekhyun rolls his eyes and kicks Chanyeol's kneecap to get him to sit down. "Way to steal his thunder."
"Congratulations," Jongin breathes. Joonmyun beams. A moment later, his face begins wavering. Jongin's eyes slide half-shut. His chin dips forward against his chest, head too heavy to lift.
"Shit," comes Kyungsoo's voice. His hand lands heavily on Jongin's shoulder. "I think he's going to-"
Jongin closes his eyes and dreams of nothing at all.
*
The first thing Jiyong makes him do is run laps around the stadium.
On foot.
"I thought this was Seeker practice," Jongin blurts out, brow furrowed.
Jiyong sighs and slides Jongin's broom out of his hands. "Questioning my coaching methods already?"
Jongin shakes his head. "I just-want to know why. What's the point? I'm not going to be doing any running on the pitch during a game."
Jiyong regards him for a long moment. Long enough that Jongin feels a little uncomfortable. He shifts on his feet, the corners of his lips tugged down. "I've seen you play before," Jiyong says at last. "In the fall season. The semifinal game against Manila."
Jongin winces. "That wasn't-"
"You're talented, kid," Jiyong continues, "but you can't get by on pure talent alone. You're the type of Seeker that watches and waits before you strike. And when you go in for the kill, it's beautiful. No one can fly like you. That's why they call you-"
"Kai," Jongin finishes, ducking his head. "Like the ocean."
"Slow to action," Jiyong agrees. "But deadly when the time's right. It's not a bad strategy. In Manila, though-"
Jongin scowls. He scuffs the dirt with his shoe. "The Beaters sent every Bludger at me, even though the ref kept giving us penalty goals for the fouls. All the extra flying wore me out. And it was unseasonably hot. 39 degrees, or something."
"Heat stroke."
"Embarrassing."
Jiyong actually smiles. "Running is the best way to build up endurance. You're a Seeker, but you still need the stamina to last for longer matches."
"Okay," Jongin says. He straightens his spine. "I get it. What do I do?"
The first two weeks of practice, Jongin doesn't even touch a broom. Jiyong starts him off with easy laps inside the stadium in the morning and then makes him move into the terrain stretching out around them, wet marshland teeming with life. Jongin runs and runs and runs, over uneven ground under the hot sun, until his legs feel like jelly and an anvil sits heavy on his chest every time he breathes.
It rains at the end of the fourth day. Dragon-mosquitos come out to play. He gets bitten so many times his whole body feels like one throbbing itch. He sits outside with the Chasers that night, zapping the fuckers with his wand in revenge.
"How's practice for you?" Jongdae asks curiously. "We haven't seen you at all."
"Effective," Jongin says. Kyungsoo tosses him some salve, and he begins applying it to a huge stretch of irritated skin on his calf. "I hope." Kyungsoo stuns a mosquito with a lazy flick of his wrist. Jongdae tries the same and narrowly avoids hitting Baekhyun in the ass. "How's yours?"
Jongdae grins. "I think Heejin-noona almost made Baekhyun cry today."
"Only because of her beauty," Baekhyun retorts from where he's sprawled out on the veranda. Jongdae snorts. Jongin leans back and lets his muscles loosen.
He gets his broom back in mid-June, half a month before their opening qualifier against Bulgaria. Jiyong's on one of his own, a dusty Nimbus that looks like it's seen better days. "When you play with your club, against the other teams in the Asian League," he says, "you can afford to watch and wait for the right moment. And I'm not saying observation is bad. It's good. But you've never played against the European titans before. Every one of those Seekers is at your level or better, and right from the start of the match they're on." He kicks off from the ground and beckons for Jongin to follow. "You need to learn how to be more proactive."
Jiyong's face ripples once, twice, and then morphs into someone else's. Severe eyebrows, hooked nose, deep-set eyes. Broad shoulders, stocky build. When he's finished, Jongin's looking at Viktor Krum in the flesh. There's a flapping piece of gold clutched in his hand. He lets it go. Jongin watches the Snitch fly away, palms itching.
"Find it before I do," Jiyong says, and chuckles when Jongin zooms off in eager pursuit.
They scrimmage every day during the week leading up to the match. Coaches and reserve players vs. the starting line. Jiyong morphs into different positions and goes head-to-head with everyone, but he Seeks the most, and catches the Snitch more often than not-which is frustrating, to be sure, but also confusing. Because Jiyong's young. He went to school long before Jongin's time but he's still young enough (and good enough) to play for the League teams if he really wanted to. Still young enough to be on the World Cup team.
Jongin plucks up the nerve to ask about it the night before they Portkey to Sofia. "How come you never played professionally?" They're in the canteen. Baekhyun's doodling in the margins of his playbook. Jongin's supposed to be eating a late dinner, but the nervousness is ruining his appetite. On the far side of the room, the Beater coaches are going over last minute defensive plays with Chanyeol and Minseok.
Jiyong glances at him. "Isn't it obvious?"
Jongin shakes his head.
"I'm a Metamorphmagus," he says, tucking his hands underneath his thighs. Troy, Mullet, and Moran's features flash over his in quick succession. "Any team with me on it would have too much of an unfair advantage, see? I managed to play for school, but they wouldn't let me go pro."
"That sucks," Jongin offers lamely.
"It's okay. I think I like it better this way." He reaches up again and takes a contemplative sip of his seaweed soup. "The tabloids don't show up at my apartment with floating cameras and Quick-Quotes Quills."
"They don't do that to me, either."
"They will," Jiyong warns him. "Don't worry. They will."
*
[RECAP] China kicks off World Cup campaign with a 260 to 50 win over India
Written by Henry Lau
Quidditch Illustrated, July 2013 Issue
MUMBAI, India. (June 23, 2013) - The Chinese National Quidditch Team took control from the opening whistle and never looked back as they downed India 260 to 50 on Tuesday to open Group D's round robin qualifiers for the 2014 Quidditch World Cup, in front of a crowd of 20,305 at Kamadhenu Stadium.
The Wang Feifei-Meng Jia-Amber Liu Chaser trifecta proves formidable indeed, scoring thirty points apiece in the first two hours of the game. China next travels to Europe to face Spain at 10 p.m. GMT on Thursday, July 25, at Camp de les Corts in Barcelona.
"The team's in top form coming into the campaign, and I think this match illustrates the fruits of our efforts," said head coach Zhou Mi, who's going into his third round of World Cup prelims as coach for the national team. "Amber was an excellent addition to an already fantastic duo, and they created quite a few chances tonight. We could have scored a couple more goals if we'd converted those chances. Of course, India did an excellent job defending, so we'll have to take what we did here and push even further if we want to give Spain a run for their money in July."
Playing in rain-soaked conditions at the start of the game, China struck quickly after several early set piece opportunities. Liu purposely delayed her penalty goal at the bottom of the second hour to wait for Wang and Meng to get into position just to the left of the scoring area. In the end it paid off, with Wang following up a Liu reverse pass to tap home a goal from close range and give her team the lead.
The goal was Wang's fourth of the qualifying campaign and 23rd of the season.
India had one big winning opportunity in the second hour after Seeker Namor Abdul spotted the Snitch at the center of the pitch, but the Chinese Chasers managed to form an impromptu Hawkshead to distract him, and gameplay went on.
Though the Indian side gave it their best, China dominated the entire three hours of the game, with special thanks to Beaters Lu Han and Huang Zitao, who broke up most of the opposing Chaser formations. Two hours and fifty-seven minutes into the match, Chinese Seeker Zhang Yixing caught the Snitch at India's end of the pitch, just beyond the center goalpost.
"We have very high hopes for the rest of the year leading up to the finals," said Captain Kris Wu. "There are five more games in the round robin against the other teams in Group D. If we win all of them, we'll be top seed in the sweet sixteen, which is the ideal position. We're all very fired up to get there."
China now shifts its focus to their second qualifier in Spain next month.
(For an up-to-date schedule of qualifying games for Groups A-D, as well as individual player statistics, please see pages 21-24.)
*
They lose to Bulgaria.
It's not the end of the world. The round robin phase has never been sudden death, and every group sends four teams out of seven to the final bracket of sixteen. They can still get it back. Jongin knows these are the facts-but losing always feels like shit anyway, and he stumbles off the pitch with his broom clutched in his hands hard enough to blister, blood pounding behind his eyes, Krum's brusque good game bouncing around in his skull.
Someone sticks a camera in his face. There's a flash. Jongin blinks the afterimages away and scowls. "Kai-sshi," an anxious reporter says, almost tripping over himself. "How do you feel coming off this loss?"
"Like shit," he says, because it's the truth. He can see Jiyong beyond the press, eyebrows raised at his bluntness, and Jongin cannot bring himself to care.
"Excellent," Kyungsoo says, ducking into the locker room after him. "That's the only statement anyone's going to be quoting tomorrow."
"Not his fault he said what everyone was thinking," Jongdae mumbles.
It smells like feet in here, and broom oil, and failure. Jongin sinks onto a bench and stares at Joonmyun, head fuzzy with disappointment.
"According to Friday Night Lights," Baekhyun remarks, as Jiyong slides past the hangers-on and hungry journalists to join them, "this is when you're supposed to give us an uplifting pep talk, Coach."
Chanyeol looks confused. Jongdae muffles his chuckle in the sleeve of his robe.
Jiyong folds his hands into his pockets and nods at Joonmyun, who steps up, dirt-streaked and sweaty. He meets Jongin's eyes evenly. "There's nothing I can tell you right now that you don't already know. You did good out there. It wasn't good enough. We have another two months before you have to go back to your clubs for the fall season. Our next game's at the end of July, against India. All we can do is keep practicing."
*
Jongin shoots up like a weed between second and third year. Gain, who's finished studying to be a Mediwitch by then, spends the winter mixing potions for his growing pains. Jongin returns in February to Captain Chanyeol, whose first order of business is-
"Finding a Keeper," Chanyeol moans, scraggly orange hair falling into his face. He flops over on the common room couch, legs hanging over the armrest, and nearly rolls right off when Baekhyun's snowy owl flaps in through the dormitory door to announce his arrival. "Fuck, keep your birds away from me-"
"What kind of wizard are you?" comes Baekhyun's amused voice. He lugs his trunk inside with a loud huff. "Still afraid of a little owl? How do you even communicate?"
"If Professor Lee let us wire the castle for tele-what are those things again?"
"Telephones," Jongin offers.
"Yeah, telephones. Telephones are great."
"Muggle Technology Advocate Park Chanyeol," Baekhyun intones. "You should start a club."
Chanyeol lobs a throw pillow at him. "If we had those then all my problems would be solved."
"Not the Keeper problem," Kyungsoo says, trudging out from his room with an Arithmancy book under his arm. "Who's on the list?"
"There is no list," Chanyeol says, draping a forearm over his face. "Joonmyun-hyung's gone. So is Yuri-noona. No Keeper. No reserve."
The only people who show up for tryouts are the ones who want Hyoyeon's Beater position, which Jinri snaps up. Practice begins with Chanyeol filling in as interim-Keeper, but he still has to train Jinri. They can't play without a real Keeper.
It happens in late March, weeks before their first game against Mahoutokoro. Jongin's playing a game of pick-up Quidditch with Sehun. They're out back behind the castle after Potions, right on the edge of the woods stretching down south. Jongin's charmed a bunch of makeshift hoops to hover in the air. He dives with the Quaffle in the crook of his elbow and Sehun waits until the last minute to meet him, swings in to block his shot with the bristles of Jinri's broom.
A moment later, one of the third-floor windows flies open with a resounding crash. "Oh Sehun, I fucking see you," Chanyeol bellows, hanging halfway out the windowpane and flapping his arms like a deranged pixie. Hands drag him back inside before he can get another word in edgewise.
Sehun sends Jongin a bewildered look. Jongin tries really hard to keep a straight face. "Did you know the team's looking for a Keeper?"
Dawning comprehension crests over Sehun's face. "Oh, no," he says, hand flying to his mouth. "I don't even want to play-my mom is gonna kill me-"
Jongin glances down from where they're hovering. Chanyeol's burst out from the back of the castle. He's running toward them, scarf unwinding from around his neck. Sehun stares at him in horror and takes off on Jinri's Nimbus.
In retrospect, Jongin had maybe kind of done it on purpose. He knows the fourth years have Defense Against the Dark Arts on Tuesday afternoons, and that Chanyeol and the others will be winding down from Professor Choi's classroom to get to the cafeteria for dinner afterwards. Most importantly, he knows Sehun can fly. They've been friends for a long time, since Sehun's family moved into the house next to Jongin's and Sekang spent years pining after Gain. He knows that despite all of Sehun's posturing and the objections of his parents, who wanted their little boy to avoid anything that could cause him bodily injury, Sehun would secretly be delighted to join the team.
Jongin tells him so later that evening, after Chanyeol literally fly-tackled Sehun to the ground and forced him to agree to Keep, when he's helping Sehun move into the four-poster bed next to his.
"You are a really shitty friend," Sehun says flatly.
"I'm the best friend in the world," Jongin counters, and dives away when Sehun sends his new Keeper gloves sailing across the room at his head.
Quidditch aside, Jongin spends most of the year sitting in the library with his friends, attempting to stay awake or surreptitiously spell his acne away. Third years learn Apparition on a rolling basis as every student turns old enough, and Jongin finds himself with a natural affinity for it. He passes the test on his first try.
"It feels like I'm trying to squeeze myself through a tube of toothpaste," Sehun says in May, face screwed up with concentration. For Jongin, it feels a little bit like flying. Focusing so hard on being somewhere else that his body can't help but hurtle toward it until he's-there, the air splitting open to make room for him with a thunderous crack.
That summer, the fourth years go on an exchange trip to America. They return in August laughing about dongs and bangs for some reason or another. Kyungsoo just shakes his head when Jongin asks about it. "Chanyeol almost got himself killed when we went into Muggle Los Angeles," Baekhyun reveals at lunch their first day back, snickering into his bulgogi. "He ran into the glass of a revolving door."
"I thought it would just disappear, come on-"
"I see Muggle Studies has done nothing for you," Kyungsoo says.
"Having Muggleborn best friends should've done the trick-"
"Sorry Pureblood and stupidity go hand-in-hand," Jongdae sing-songs. "Must be all the inbreeding."
Jongin moves aside when Chanyeol leaps over the lunch table to grab at Jongdae.
Later on that week, he and Jinri come down to see Chanyeol slumped over the same table, Kyungsoo absently rubbing his back as he reviews his Potions notes.
"What happened to him?" Jinri asks, poking Chanyeol's arm.
"Transfiguration was rough," Baekhyun whispers, scooting over to let them slide in next to him. "We've been doing Animagus stuff on-and-off all year and Chanyeol finally-"
"This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," Chanyeol mumbles, voice muffled by the wood. He pounds the table with his fist.
"He's a ferret," Baekhyun says, mouth twitching. Jongdae's shoulders are shaking with suppressed mirth.
"Oh," Jinri says, studiously avoiding everyone's gaze. Jongin starts laughing, can't help himself, and Chanyeol raises his head to shoot him a hurt look.
"I'm a dog," Baekhyun continues. "Samoyed. Jongdae's-"
"Siamese cat," Jongdae finishes, mouth curling.
"What about you, Kyungsoo-oppa?" Jinri asks.
Kyungsoo looks up from his notes. "Wolf," he replies, smiling with teeth.
"That's so cool," Jongin says, enthused.
Chanyeol makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat as he slumps over again. "So unfair."
The moping doesn't last long, though-in September, when the third years are learning about Boggarts in DADA (Jongin's worst fear is a broken broom, to Sehun's intense amusement), the fourth years are casting Patronuses. Chanyeol bursts into the common room a week before Chuseok, wand already whipped out to show his off. The white animal that bursts out of the tip spreads its elegant wings and flies over Sehun and Jongin's heads to perch above the fireplace. It's a-
"Phoenix," Chanyeol announces, eyes bright. He leaps up onto one of the desks and does a little jig, nearly knocks Sehun's textbooks onto the floor. "So badass."
"You see why we don't want good things for him?" Baekhyun demands. "He's unbearable." He drops his bag on the ground and folds himself into an armchair. "Chanyeol, this does nothing to negate your status as King of the Ferrets." Chanyeol happily ignores him.
A thought occurs to Jongin. "I thought you hated birds," he remarks.
"Not the same thing at all," Chanyeol says, beckoning for his Patronus. It lands on his shoulder and he grins like an idiot. "Phoenixes are awesome. Owls are creepy." He shudders, and the phantom phoenix vanishes with a puff of air.
Dong Bang doesn't make it past the top sixteen youth teams that year. Part of it has to do with a magical mishap in October; Jongdae does something funny with his wand during class and accidentally Transfigures Baekhyun into a teapot. It takes Madame Shin a week to turn him back. Jongin sits with him in the hospital wing a couple of hours before their match against Japan, reading excerpts from Quidditch Through the Ages at the irate porcelain. Honestly, Jongdae did a pretty good job. Baekhyun's patterning is very pretty.
At any rate, Mahoutokoro trounces them 250 to 40 despite Jinho's best efforts to fill in. Jongin's neighborhood friend Taemin, whose parents send him to Japan for school, fools him with a Wronski and outflies him for the Snitch. Jongin wallows in his misery for two days before Chanyeol smuggles the entire team off the grounds and into Daegu for a night out on the town.
Baekhyun's pale face looms out from underneath his hood as they creep through the gate. "Welcome back, hyung," Jongin whispers.
"Yeah, yeah," he croaks. "Jongdae's buying all my drinks tonight."
In actual fact, they meet Joonmyun at the club, and he buys all their drinks. "Gotta use my ridiculous paycheck for something," he explains, brandishing several Galleons.
"This is totally illegal," Sehun says, and snatches the first shot out of Joonmyun's hands with gusto.
Somehow, Jongin ends up on the dance floor squashed in between Moonkyu, who can dance, and Chanyeol, who decidedly cannot. He's tipsy enough after half a Firewhiskey to not even care about stepped-on toes, and he doesn't bat an eyelash when he stumbles away an hour later and sees Sehun and Jinri making out in a corner.
They're too loud sneaking back in at dawn and get caught by Professor Lim, the Potions Mistress, who assigns them all a month's worth of detention scrubbing cauldrons.
"Was it worth it?" Soojung asks them at breakfast. Jongin groans into his congee, fantastically hungover. Sehun and Jinri aren't looking at each other. Jinho and Moonkyu are dozing off onto each other's shoulders. Soojung blinks. "I hope you all did the History of Magic paper that's due today."
"Fuck," says Jongin.
*
They beat India in July and England in August. Joonmyun's arm gets broken an hour into the second game and Jongin catches the Snitch right in the nick of time, twenty points before the score stretches beyond his ability to correct it.
Three down. Three more to go.
The morning after England, the team breaks up again for the fall club season. Baekhyun and Kyungsoo return to Incheon to play for the Imps. Chanyeol goes back to Seoul, Joonmyun to Daegu. Minseok and Jongdae Portkey to Beijing and Shanghai.
Jongin returns to a trashed apartment in Toyohashi. He touches the tip of his wand to the trailing remnants of his wards, and they tell him paparazzi and tabloid magazine, the aftereffects of flurried hands rifling through his closet and underneath his bed. Nothing was taken, but the sick drip of dread still trickles down his spine.
"You need to move into a better neighborhood," Hyein says through a Fire-call, after Jongin's cleaned up as much as he can and established a couple of stronger wards. "Like, a place with actual security. Your paycheck's ridiculous, Jongin. Why don't you use it for your own benefit?"
"Yeah," Jongin says, swallowing. He watches her concerned face flicker in the flames. "I know."
He's wanted to move into a bigger apartment for a while, but he hadn't thought it would be because of this. They're only halfway through the qualifying campaign and the tabloids are already coming for him. The attention's weird, invasive, uncomfortable. It only gets worse. A week after his first match of the club season, he gets a disguised Muggle utility bill that turns out to be wired with some sort of magical recording device. Jongin only realizes when it starts smoking in the envelope and he has to toss it out.
Juggling between club and country is more of a struggle than he'd anticipated. Toyohashi's semifinal against Kyoto ends up running for the better part of a week, and Jongin just misses Korea's fourth qualifier against China. He wins with the Tengu. Korea loses against China, even though his replacement, Seungri, tries his best. Jongin gets a slew angry Owls criticizing him for shirking his national team duties. Jongin sits in bed and rewatches play-by-plays of Yixing catching the Snitch for an entire weekend before Yuya shows up at his front step and drags him out of the apartment.
"To get some fresh air," he tells Jongin, eyebrows cocked knowingly.
They go to one of the Muggle bars outside the stadium. Japan's too small for pure Wizarding districts, but the gin and tonic Yuya gets him burns all the way down to his stomach just as much as any Firewhiskey.
"There's no use getting worked up about this stuff," Yuya advises, when they're three drinks in and Jongin's tongue is loose enough to wag. "I've gotten a lot of nasty threats over Chasing for Japan. Everyone thinks they know how you should play. Quidditch fans can be very intense." He smiles. "You should know. You were one once, too."
"Is this considered fraternizing with the enemy, then?" Jongin wonders aloud. Japan's been taking Group A by storm. They've only lost once: against Germany, 400 to 230-and that was only because their Seeker, Mizuhara Kiko, had been otherwise occupied by her own club season.
"Not yet," Yuya says, grinning. He knocks back another shot of something amber-colored. "Maybe once we get to the sweet sixteen."
"I promise not to sabotage you before then," Jongin says into the rim of his glass.
Yuya snorts. "I'd like to see you try, pretty boy."
*
Asia's Fiercest Fliers: The Ladies of Team China
Written by Yura Park
Witch Weekly Asia, February 1, 2014
After China's phenomenal win against Bulgaria in January, the three Chasers took some time out of their schedules to have a little chat with me. I was surprised at first that they'd agreed to the interview; with the qualifying round robins for all four groups heading into their twilight stages, these players are all busier than ever. But despite their superstardom China's Chasers remain gracious, and Holyhead Harpies Beater Amber Liu expressed special interest in meeting, professing to be a huge fan of the magazine.
The first thing I'm struck by when they walk into the sports bar is the extreme comfort they exude. When I mention this out loud, Meng Jia and Liu grin at each other. Wang Feifei ducks her head, but she's smiling, too. The second thing is, of course, their beauty. Liu has her hair cropped short in a signature cut she's worn ever since she became a rising star in the British and Irish Quidditch League. Wang is an honest-to-God queen in real life, sophisticated and dignified, wavy hair sweeping down past her shoulder blades. Meng constantly smiles, hands shoved into the pockets of her neon-colored hoodie. The next hour and a half we spent chatting about boys, Bludgers, and the state of international Quidditch.
WW: Well, first thing's first. How about last night's game?
Wang: Bulgaria's amazing. It was a tremendous privilege being able to play against them.
Liu: I hope they make it into the top sixteen bracket so we can play them again.
Meng: Krum is also really hot, in a Neanderthal kind of way? (laughs) Oops, am I not supposed to say that kind of thing?
WW: You can say anything you want!
Meng: In that case...
Wang: (laughs) Control yourself, Jia.
WW: How do you feel about the rest of the qualifying campaign?
Wang: We've got two more games left: one against England, and the other against Transylvania. As the stats stand now, we're definitely qualifying, so that's a bit of pressure off our shoulders. But we want to finish strong, and being top seed in Group D would give us an advantage going into the knockout round of the tournament.
WW: What's your workout regimen like?
Liu: It's not so much a workout regimen as it is a lifestyle, really. Quidditch is a pretty high-impact sport. You have to do your best to keep up. During the season I'm up at six every morning to go for runs before two hours of Chaser drills on the pitch. In the afternoon we fit in three more hours of scrimmage and then some weight lifting in the in-house gym. China's facilities are pretty excellent.
Meng: I started dancing when I was really young and it's something I still love. Almost as much as I love Quidditch, so sometimes I'll do that to wind down in the evenings.
WW: Amber, the Harpies signed you right out of school. What's it like to be playing with boys again?
Liu: Terrible. (laughs) No, no, the guys are great. Everyone's great, really. I expected there to be more of a transition period coming into this just because I didn't train in that system growing up, but everyone was incredibly welcoming. Our coach made sure of that. I'm really lucky to be here.
Meng: Aw, that's so sweet.
Liu: This one, though...
Meng: Hey!
Liu: In all seriousness, Fei and Jia are like sisters to me. Zitao might look tough but he's like that little brother you love to pester just to see him react. It's cute. Lu Han's older than all of us but he acts half his age. Kris-well-
Meng: He tries.
Liu: Tries to keep the peace. It's sweet, really.
Meng: Fei's much better at it than he is.
Wang: Only because you two are the troublemakers. He never knows what to do!
Liu: You love it.
Meng: We light up your life.
WW: As role models for a large number of young witches out there, what kind of advice would you like to impart?
Liu: Oh God, I don't know if I'm old enough to be considered a role model for anybody.
Wang: Jia and I grew up in China's Quidditch system, and we didn't actually get a lot of playing time until our early twenties. We're girls, of course, so that's always a factor, even now. We spent years training and often it was like-
Meng: It seemed like there was never a light at the end of the tunnel.
Wang: The biggest thing is to not give up, as cheesy as it sounds.
Meng: I actually quit training for about a year, and it was the worst decision of my life. Keep at it, even when it feels like nothing's happening. I promise, your hard work will be rewarded.
Liu: Man. Now I feel like I need to say something serious, too.
WW: No pressure! Say the first thing that pops into your head.
Liu: Do what you love, fuck the rest.
Meng: Also very original.
Liu: Shut up, Jia.
WW: I'll be rooting for you all in the coming months!
Liu: But your younger brother plays for Korea, doesn't he?
Wang: (laughs) Oh no, have we been consorting with the enemy this entire time?
WW: (laughs) I assure you, nothing about that particular familial relationship will color what I report.
Wang: (laughs) If anything happens, we'll just sic the team's PR agent on you. Victoria is very good at what she does.
Meng: Wait, your brother's Park Chanyeol?
*
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