Author's Note: Been a good few years since I last tried to write anything that could be considered fanfiction, so bear with me... and let me know how I'm doing. Be honest. I appreciate constructive feedback.
Also note that in this story, I'm going to try to explain away the nonsense that JKR wrote about the Japanese wizarding school. I know that her pronunciation and her use of "Mahoutokoro" is horribly flawed, but I'm going to be justifying the colloquial use of this in English via narration. It won't happen in the first chapter though, so please don't nitpick how the characters are pronouncing it at this time. We'll touch on that later.
A sudden change in plans never rested well with young Rhys Woodbead. He wasn't accustomed to change. For most of his life, he lived in the Woodbead ancestral home, hidden behind anti-muggle spells and illusions beneath a church in the largely muggle city of Leeds. He didn't leave it much, and hardly had any interaction with others besides his own family-his mother and father, and his paternal grandparents. On occasion, friends would visit, but he had been raised essentially in hiding, all because his parents didn't trust others anymore. Not like they did before he was born, or so his grandparents had told him.
Four years ago, his parents bestowed upon him a rare bout of freedom, taking him with them to go to the Quidditch World Cup. It was a rare treat to be able to leave the underground home. They had He had been so enthralled with the festival atmosphere that he, at the tender age of "almost seven," ran away from "home." Or rather, he ran away from his family's tent, where he had very nearly unwittingly violated the Statute of Secrecy, telling a family of muggle Romani travelers about his favorite Quidditch players. Thankfully, he was fetched by other wizards nearby before the muggles could decide if the child was just really terribly imaginative, or if his breathless excitement was rooted in reality.
That rare moment of freedom squandered, his parents had lectured him for vanishing like that. It wasn't safe, they insisted. All because some bad guys had attacked a muggle campsite after a World Cup final before he was even born.
Four years seemed like an eternity ago to the boy now approaching his eleventh year. Ever the sheltered child, he had been preparing, and yearning, for his Hogwarts letter. At last, the letter was brought in by his father, just earlier this evening! He read it with excitement while his family looked on, all four of them-mother, father, grandmother, and grandfather-were frowning as he read it with an elated tone.
When Rhys looked up, he noticed his father cast a glance in his mother's direction, and both of his grandparents had their gaze fixed on her too. She looked, for a moment, terribly guilty. Rhys's smile faded from his face, replaced with concern, when his mother knelt before him and gently took the letter from his hands.
"Rhys, doy," she said in her gentlest tone. She didn't use that word often, but when she did, it was because she had to tell him 'no' to something. He already feared the worst before she could even elaborate. "I know you're excited, love, but I'm afraid... you won't be going to Hogwarts."
Rhys's eyes stung with tears. He didn't protest aloud, but his thoughts were furious and crushed. "Why," he thought. "Why do they want to trap me here for the rest of my life? It's not fair!"
"I didn't know how to tell you this, but mummy's got a new job," she said. "And you, and me, and your father, and nana and papa are moving away for a while, so you'll be going to a different school to learn magic. It's even more wonderful than Hogwarts," she tried to assure him.
In his mind, nothing could be better than Hogwarts. He'd spent years dreaming about it, trying to decide if he wanted to be a Ravenclaw like his mother, or a Slytherin like his father and grandmother. Or maybe a Gryffindor, like his grandfather, or perhaps a Hufflepuff if for no other reason than that he'd be the only one in his immediate household to be one. He managed to look angry, fighting back those defiant tears.
"Why?" he asked, his small voice breaking.
His parents exchanged looks again. This was perhaps too adult of a topic to really effectively explain to a boy his age. He wasn't an idiot by any means, but sometimes it was hard for children to see their parents as more than parents, who had their own adventures to pursue, even if it meant dragging an entire family along. His mother had a new job? Since when did she need a job? His father already had a job!
"Because," his father interjected. "It's going to be best for our whole family. I can't support everyone on the pittance I'm paid," he said, omitting the fact that his job as custodial staff at Gringotts was not just ill-compensated, but also morally taxing for a man who had once held a much more prestigious position among wizarding society.
"Wh..." Rhys began, huffing with the effort to continue to keep the waterworks at bay. "Where are we going?" he asked. He held out some hope that maybe they meant London, or perhaps somewhere in Scotland, Ireland, or Wales, so that he could still attend Hogwarts, but maybe his attendance just had to be delayed due to the big move and all.
There was a brief hesitation among all four of the adults. "See," his mother said after the uncomfortable silence had passed. "There's a special need for experienced Magizoologists in Japan, and I... was offered a very, very rare opportunity to replace a wizard who... retired," she said. "So you'll be going to Mahoutokoro."
"Ma-hoo-toe..." Rhys puzzled, some of his anger and betrayal giving way to pure confusion.
"Ma-hoo-toe-koh-row," Rhys's father replied, saying the strange word with a lack of fluency that was apparent to even Rhys's ears, and he didn't speak a lick of Japanese-the realization of which made his eyes go wide with fear and defiance.
"How can I go there?! I don't even speak Japanese!" he practically shouted.
"Huuush," his mother said, trying to calm him. "You don't need to worry about that. In time, we'll all pick up on the language, but until then, we got you a gift." Without pause, she reached back into one of the many pockets of her robes and produced a small box that fit into the palm of her hand. With the box facing her son, she lifted its lid, revealing a necklace with a grey, iron medallion. It looked somewhat canine, with a long snout, and hollow eyes, with intricate stylized swirls over its brow and along its snout. "This fox pendant will help you."
The metal amulet curled its lips upward in a smile, and the hollow eyes blinked. "Hello~" it said in a somewhat sly, male voice.
"Ah!" Rhys leaped back, startled by the movement of the object.
"Aah, shitsurei shimashita," it said, sounding terribly fluent in comparison to his parents' heavily Yorkshire-accent-laden butchering of the alleged name of this Japanese school. "I am Tetsu. I will be your translator and friend."
Unsure of how to respond, Rhys stared at the pendant, then glanced up at his hopeful parents. Overwhelmed, he numbly reached out for the box and claimed the sentient object, holding it close to his chest.
The necklace continued. "I'm sure we'll have many adv-"
Rhys snapped the jewelry box shut, cutting off the fox-thing's words, and blinking up at his parents. It was too much. The tears silently spilled over. His mother bit her lower lip, then bent to give him a gentle hug. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I wasn't sure how..."
"It's okay," he pouted. It wasn't okay, and he didn't sound okay, but he was tired and he was at least mature enough, even for his age, to know that his parents weren't doing this to him, as much as he was tempted to believe they were. His whole life, his parents had been barely getting by, and he often noticed their apparent misery, and heard them on occasion fret about money, but he never spoke of it. Though he didn't totally understand why they couldn't just get better jobs here in England, or at least somewhere on the same continent, he didn't feel equipped to shout about it.
"It's late," Rhys's father said. "Time for bed. In the morning, we'll talk more about it."
The boy nodded sadly. He also never put up a fight going to bed at a decent hour. Not that he actually slept. He rather enjoyed staying up late and reading instead, but he was so exhausted from this sudden revelation, he felt like he could actually sleep. Without another word to his parents, he turned, and dragged his feet somberly to bed. He didn't slam his door. Rather, he sadly, slowly, and quietly shut it until it clicked, ensuring the random drafts throughout the underground home didn't push the door open.
A few silent moments passes. Grandmother and grandfather had already been sitting in comfortable chairs, but mother and father alike had been standing for that news, while their son had been sitting on the sofa. This place was dimly lit, almost resembling the Slytherin common room at Hogwarts, just the way he, the father, Mason Woodbead, had preferred it. He took a seat on the sofa and sighed, and the mother, Trinity Woodbead, née Hunt, did so in near perfect unison with him. They both sighed.
Grandfather, Jack Woodbead laughed uneasily, but he was sincerely amused. "Just like his father," he said.
Mason offered his own father a wry grin. "No, I think I would have tossed the thing at you if I took his place, and you took mine."
"He'll adapt," Trinity said with some uncertain hopefulness. "He's young. It's the rest of us I worry'll have a hard time of it."
Trinity was a youngish mother, a few years younger than Mason. She had given birth to Rhys in 1997, just three years out of school at Hogwarts. Mason and Trinity didn't know each other in school, since they attended about six years apart. They met when the recently graduated witch had a bit of an incident with the Floo Network, and an apparently contraband magical creature that was not supposed to have traveled via the Floo Network, earning her a visit from the Floo Network Regulator. At the time, Trinity had been a fledgling freelance magizoologist, and Mason had been a Floo Network Regulator for some years.
At first, their relationship was somewhat adversarial, since Trinity didn't deal well with authority, and Mason didn't deal well with defiance, but somehow that managed to bloom into a friendship, and later, a relationship. All said, Trinity was just twenty when she married, and twenty-one when she had Rhys. She had him right here, in this household, in this very room, while in hiding. Mason had unexpectedly left his position within the Ministry to bring Rhys out of their new, charming cottage in the countryside, to what could only be described as a basement; albeit a magically enhanced and quite comfortable basement; all because he picked up on the trouble brewing at the Ministry. Lucky for him, he got his pregnant wife into hiding before the compromised Ministry started a muggle-born registry, and began jailing those muggle-borns. Trinity was muggle-born, a fact that never bothered the pureblood family of Woodbead.
"We'll be moved in five days," Mason said to his father and his mother. His mother was a bit distracted. In her older years, despite not being that terribly old for a witch, she'd gotten a little more feeble-minded. "Are you sure you want to come with us?"
"Are you hinting that you'd rather we stay behind?" Jack asked.
"No, no," Mason said. "I just know that this is going to be a big change for all of us. Different food. Different customs. Different language."
"Same magic," Jack replied. "You're more worried about this than we are. Both of you. Look at Rosie, she's practically glowing."
"I am so happy to see him again," Rosie said. It wasn't exactly clear who "him" was, but she rarely made sense, so it was easy enough to dismiss, and to assume that she simply meant she was happy to be seeing something new and different.
Trinity smiled. "That's great, Rosie," she said warmly. She placed her hand on Mason's knee, turning her warm smile on him, melting away some of the tension their clearly upset child had left in the room, then she rose. "I think I'll head to bed early as well... Best to ease into a new sleep schedule."
"Fair enough," Mason said, rising and joining hands with his wife to give her a soft peck on the lips, which she always happily returned. "I'll be up a while longer. I'll try not to wake you when I come in."
"Fair enough," Trinity echoed, giving him one more smooch, then turning to ascend the stairs to their bedroom.
Five days would go by quickly, and they all knew, though the task ahead of them seemed daunting. Moving to another country, even for wizards, was no simple task.