Chapter One

Some people have all the luck

Rewritten By Kaori

X

Invisible winds tackled into the cherry blossom trees. Fragile petals whirled about, enchanting the world in pink snow. Just as suddenly, the petals wafted down limply to the pavement as the winds calmed down to a gentle breeze. The moment a single petal touched the gravel, pink electric waves rapidly erupted from petal to petal, sparking to life like turbulent lighting. Like puppets attached by veiled threads, the petals ascended again, circling around the four cloaked figures. Beneath them an array glowed, as if burnt into the concrete with neon chemicals.

"You have some nerve summoning us," the feminine voice was filled with disdain.

The bespectacled teenage boy stared blankly at the four humanoid forms levitating above the ground, all in identical poses unevenly spaced apart. He fought to maintain a blank mask. He knew wizards were obsessed with their image (like a certain second year defense teacher of his) but this was just bordering melodramatic. Thankfully he was used to such frivolities and didn't have to fight back the urge to laugh.

He opened his mouth, licking his dry lips. "If you don't want anyone summoning you, why provide a page of it in this book?" he questioned, holding up a thin object. The smug grin creeping upon the woman's face was wiped off immediately.

Another girl (definitely had to be a girl, with that voice) tilted her head, a giggle erupting from her small frame. "We did not write that book, I hope you know." Wavy dark locks slid out of the hood, like black ink.

The hooded teen stood unmoving, the emotionless mask frozen and book still held out in his outstretched arm. He inclined his head in acknowledgement, a brow twitching delicately.

The figure before the trio moved forward a couple inches, the wind following his blithe form. An eerie smile was plastered upon his pale face and he held out a hand. "How quaint for you that we were even in that book," he smiled. There was a brief flash underneath the hood and Harry caught sight of a pair of spectacles. Immediately, rain poured down heavily from the storm clouds and lightning flashed. Thunder vibrated seconds later, startling some birds from their perch.

The Boy Who Lived smirked and threw the book to the man. The man in caught it with a clap. Harry could almost see his eyes furrow curiously. They were painfully simple people, no matter how terrifying they tried to be. They were cynical and the powerful vibe radiating from them was anything but pleasant, but he had very little doubts; this mission would work out fine. If it didn't, well, the book would guarantee their silence and Hermione was working on the other possible allies. And if Hermione proved to be successful, then it didn't matter if these people accepted or not. A clan with principles was, after all, more benefiting than a group of rogues.

Lightning flashed again and flew down to the person in the back. The person didn't flinch when lightning struck the cloak's clasp. Harry watched as the green jewel flared to life; a dark green dragon burst forth and encircled the group with its long scaled body. Golden eyes flickered unpleasantly as it glided above the ground. Harry's breathe caught with awe. Never had he seen such a beautiful dragon, at least, not of that kind. A deep rumbling startled the wizard from his reverie. Lightning flashed again, this time striking the magical being. He blinked. The dragon was gone, but the storm was still raging. His forehead creased. Odd.

He wondered briefly if these people had put some kind of hallucination spell on him.

By now he was soaked to the bone—the cloak did nothing to hinder the violent pelts of rain—and he just remembered the warming spell. A bit late, he thought wryly. He allowed his wand to slide out of its holster and waved it quickly towards the group. Light exploded from the tip of the stick and shot towards the man. He winced at the arced track of the attack. Must practice that more.

The man in front of him grinned, revealing straight white teeth. He held out his glowing red hand. The spell crashed against the shield and a faint red silhouette circled around the four like a shield of rippling water. He laughed heartily, his round glasses reflecting light as he saw an array ripple across the surface.

"You've certainly done you're research." The man laughed heartily and uncrossed his legs. He landed lightly upon the wet pavement, still within the boundary of the array, and held out a pale hand. "What can we do for you?"

Harry eyed the hand suspiciously before shaking it, hesitantly. Almost instantly a shockwave ran through his body, sending his mind haywire and his nerves standing on end. Something inside of him felt a whole lot more sensitive than usual. He pulled back his hand quickly, shaken, but glad when his senses returned to normal. He glared at the stranger.

The grinning man did nothing but blink innocently, throwing back his hood to reveal amused optics. "Well?" he drawled.

"I need help on searching and destroying a few objects." Harry stated simply.

"Why?" The amusement seemed to be contagious as it was layered deeply upon the soft spoken girl's voice.

"Why not?" He glared at her challengingly. Nothing seemed intimidating after coming face to face with Voldemort. If anything he was annoyed with the Tracker's high and mighty ways.

"Because we want to know why."

Ah, so she was still bitter about the book thing was she? He wanted to smirk, but then he caught sight of the smirking man a little less than a few feet in front of him and forced the corners of his lips to still. He sighed, tired of running around in circles. They truly were so simpleminded. "Why does one ask for help?"

"Why us specifically?" He looked up, startled. He had assumed that the girl at the back was mute.

"You're known for success, absolutely no mistakes. I don't have the time for mistakes." He folded his arms across his chest. "Of course, if your rivals accept my proposition, then I won't need your services afterall."

The rude girl snorted, turning her face to the side. She muttered something under her breath. Her face was still obstructed by the hood, but he could see the ugly scowl marring her lips. At least not all of them were amused at his predicament.

"May I ask," Harry's gaze reverted back to the man. "What do you want us to find and destroy?"

Harry paused, wondering if he should tell them. His eyes landed on the book within the sorcerer's grasp. "Horcruxes," he said.

"And why do you want to destroy these… Horcruxes?"

He smiled grimly. "To kill someone immortal."

The dark brow rose. "Immortal?"

"The Horcruxes allow him immortality, to an extent. I can't kill him properly if they're still around."

"And why must you kill him?"

He was really getting sick of that word. Why this, why that. Merlin, the books never said anything about them being so nosy. He glared at the man again; the amusement was still sparking brightly in his eyes.

"Why must you be so bloody curious?" Harry wanted nothing more than to take out his wand again and hex the man into the next century.

Another rumbling chuckle that echoed the thunder escaped the man's lips. Harry was really getting annoyed at the man's unconcerned nature. It was getting on his nerves. A lot. Times like these he wondered why adults couldn't act their age.

"Oh, is this the wizarding problem we're talking about?"

"So you know." It was hardly a question; he knew these people liked to taunt their customers, liked to dangle every little bit of information just out of reach just to aggravate them. They would feign ignorance, play innocent and, with luck (if they believed in such things), not end up doing anything unless they found it worth their time. And because he knew this, he was aware of the dangerous game he was playing. He had a better chance than most people at least. And a whole load of luck.

The man adjusted his rimless glasses, smiling lazily. "Oh, I travel a lot." The hand darted forward, flicking Harry's hair away from his forehead before he could react. His hood was knocked down and a faint lightning bolt scar was revealed from beneath damp locks. The rain quickly dragged his hair back down, but the man had already caught a clear glimpse of it. "And I believe this has some significance for you wizards."

His eyes narrowed with distrust but the man continued, fingers caressing his cursed scar. It took all of Harry's will to stay still. "You want to stop the big bad evil that is plaguing your wizarding world, but if you were to win, it'd hardly make a difference, what with that government system you live by." He wrinkled his nose with distaste. The man seemed a bit melodramatic. He waited patiently for the next sentence, skin crawling with the sorcerer's touch. "Are you willing to let such incompetent people run your people?"

Finally they were getting somewhere. "No," he answered simply.

The man quirked a brow. "And?"

Harry mirrored the action. "And what?"

There was another deep chuckle. The man spun around and proceeded to walk along the lines of the glowing array. "So this is for your personal reasons?"

"Partly."

"Aa." The long tail swished to the side and Harry caught a brief glimpse of a small smile. It was probably the only genuine one to come from the man since this encounter. "We'll keep in touch, Harry Potter." His visibility blew away with the blinding winds. Harry didn't have to cover his face from the biting draft; his glasses protected his eyes. Harry simply blinked, seeing that the only person left was the quiet girl that had only spoken once this evening. She was still in the air but her countenance had changed. The array beneath her flared and the lines rearranged themselves. The neon glow shifted colors. The harsh downpour on the city stopped and she emitted a small sound. He couldn't tell what she was feeling, it was too hard to decipher.

"You," she paused, as if uncertain, "You remind me of him."

Harry studied her face carefully. "Him?"

She said nothing and her expression remained unchanging. He blinked. She was gone. The cherry blossoms stopped their dance.

X

Hermione glanced nervously around the deserted room. She was positive that he was supposed to be in this room at this time of day, he always was, unless the timetable she had gotten was false. She cursed; a wild goose chase was the last thing she needed. But… her calculating eyes soaked in the surroundings. The room was low roofed and styled just like the old temples she had seen in the history books on Ancient China. The gold paint sparkled and the dragon statues stationed in several different places glowed, claws outstretched menacingly. Tapestries were hung on the wall, long beautiful strips of silk inked carefully with elegant characters.

Hermione almost lost her breath. This room was amazing, almost like she had stepped right into a movie, or back into the past. She never imagined something like this still existed, so properly preserved; Hogwarts was a different story entirely, nothing in that castle would match the exoticness as this room. The castle was enhanced by magic, this room on the other hand, it certainly didn't look like it was enchanted. She was positive that it was completely natural. Hermione wondered briefly if she'd ever be able to study the whole building.

A strong, deep voice broke her concentration and she whipped around, surprised. Her hand unconsciously flew to her chest and she felt her heart beating rapidly. "E-excuse me?"

The tall man repeated himself, this time in English. "What are you doing in here?"

"Uh—" All the excuses she had prepared beforehand escaped her brain and she stuttered hopelessly for a coherent answer. The man was unimpressed and didn't do anything to help her. He raised his brow.

Hermione flushed deeply and her hair frizzled even more under his intense gaze. "I—well—I was just—"

His expression stayed the same and it was only when she hadn't been able to stop her stunted ramblings for over five minutes did he sigh. She stopped speaking immediately, becoming more flustered and feeling thoroughly embarrassed. He unfolded his arms and pushed himself off the wall. "Who are you looking for?"

Timidly she answered, "Anyone's fine, really, but I'd prefer it be the leader of this clan."

"What do you want with the leader?"

The witch inhaled, "Help."

The brow quirked up again. "Help?"

She nodded, her confidence was coming back. Right, that was a good sign, just as long as she didn't look at him she wouldn't stumble and make more of a fool of herself. "I have reason to believe that this is a clan of magic users."

His brow joined the other, narrowing down suspiciously, "And why do you say that?"

"I read in Sorcery: Asian Influences that the Li Clan is the only living clan of true blooded sorcerers left in Asia." She broke off and muttered something of arrogance. "The Li Clan is also the clan with the most powerful magic wielders in the world. It—"

His expression was undoubtedly blank as he left the room, not bothering to wait for her to finish with the memorized paragraph that was so awfully detailed. She was strange, she was nervous and she had a bad habit of babbling from what he could tell so far. It was annoying.

"Wait!" Unbearably loud footsteps caught up to his silent stride. She was walking speedily, trying to keep up with his gait. "I'm just here to seek an alliance!"

Abruptly he stopped walking. Alliances were usually a good thing, he mused, but if this girl was sent as a representative then he truly wondered about her people. Said girl stumbled forward before she caught her balance. She seemed miffed; even her bushy hair seemed to be standing on end.

She waited for him to say something but he made no move to. She sighed, exasperated. "To put it bluntly, I am a witch from Britain. Right now there is a powerful dark lord terrorizing our world and I'm not so sure we can last anymore. I—" she faltered, not at all pleased that she was saying this, "I left my school in order to help my friend find a way to stop him. Then I read about your clan! I didn't know if you still existed, but several texts proved you were, so…" she trailed off. What she wanted was obvious.

The man had begun walking some time during her explanation; he was no longer standing next to her. She glanced up and saw him turn the corner. She hurriedly ran after him. "Wait!" she huffed angrily. The man was so rude. Hadn't even spoken more than a few sentences, he hadn't even introduced himself! She hadn't either but at least she made an effort to (even if it was because she had to). It was times like this she wished that Ron had gone in her place instead. At least that way more than one task could be accomplished at the same time (Ron would never open a book unless he absolutely had to).

"At least show me to someone who will help!" Hermione demanded bossily. If all Asian sorcerers were like him she could understand why there weren't many attending Hogwarts; they were too arrogant, more so than Malfoy.

He never responded to her outburst, no side glance, no sigh, nothing. He continued walking calmly across the hallway to wherever his destination was. She huffed again and glared at the Chinese man. Hermione briefly wondered what would happen if she hexed him.

She quickly shoved that thought out of her head. It wouldn't do well for relations if she acted rashly. Sorcerers—she scoffed; Dumbledore was a sorcerer, these people were not—as they termed themselves, supposedly were the best at tracking down untraceable objects. They also excelled in wandless magic, which was ridiculous. She'd never seen any of the teachers, nor any of the aurors perform such a feat, and in a measly little book there was a whole chapter dedicated to the power of sorcerers. She assumed that was why the book was so cheap; nothing written in it could've possibly been true.

Hermione had thought so too, and was about to discard of the book until she came across vague details of various well known subjects within the pages, all surprisingly correct to a fault. With a little more research she had been able to validate the book's accuracy. Who wouldn't trust a book written by one Lem Al. Fsalohcin? The man was a famous alchemist who had created the philosophers stone. Despite there being doubts about his sanity, he was a genius; Nicholas Flamel.

Brown eyes blinked with surprise. Too absorbed in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed when they stopped walking. Judging by the expression on the man's face it had been a while. She noticed him standing at one of the entries of the temple, waiting. She couldn't tell if he was impatient or simply bored out of his mind, his expression didn't give anything away.

"Is…" Hermione was confused, "The entrance?" She felt undeniably stupid under his gaze and forced herself to stare pass him and out the doorway. The garden was truly remarkable. Trees with blooming— "Wait a minute," her eyes narrowed and he fell back into her line of vision as she targeted her glare on him. "You're kicking me out?" she screeched indignantly. "Who's the master of this house? Let me speak with him now!"

She could've sworn he rolled his eyes. "Look," he began, his English flawless. She managed to stop herself from reacting oddly; it wasn't that he could speak English perfectly—so could Cho and a few other girls she knew—but because the tone he used commanded respect. Every time he chose to speak a creepy chill ran down her spine; she refused to believe it to be a pleasant feeling. "As tragic as your predicament sounds—" Hermione squawked with outrage; that was sarcasm she heard in his voice! "—this clan will not waste it's time on your petty matters."

"Petty?" Disbelief colored her eyes. "You think that innocent people dying because of one madman is petty?"

That infuriating brow was arched. "One madman you say?" A smirk tugged at his lips lazily. "In that case, petty is an overstatement."

Her fist shook dangerously. He was as bad as that disgusting Malfoy, if not worse. So her predicament was petty was it? Her glare intensified. Hermione swung her fist.

As she anticipated, her fist collided with flesh. What she didn't expect was for her fist to be caught painfully tight within a strong hand. She yanked her arm back, but he wouldn't let go. The amusement in his eyes earlier was gone, left with a chillingly cruel glint. His lips were tight, pulled back in a thin line. He hissed darkly, "Are you aware that there are innocents on both sides?"

Hermione understood now, the feeling she always got when she heard him speak. It was the aura surrounding him, dangerous and threatening. His height added no comfort either, being this close to him she realized just how tall he was, well over a head taller than her. She tried to suppress her fear, if anything, this situation was more frightening than the prospect of facing Lord Voldemort unarmed.

"Xiao Lang," the newcomer's voice was soft and feminine, and just a tad bit imposing, borderline reprimanding. Hermione let out a sigh of relief when she felt the grip around her fist loosen. She allowed herself a glance at the lady. The woman was the epitome of grace and Hermione already felt waves of respect forming for the woman.

The woman's eyes contrasted with her clothes and powdered face but matched her hair perfectly. Hermione briefly wondered if the Asian sorcerers were related to the basilisk, their eyes had an unnerving ability to freeze anyone in their tracks.

The woman reminded Hermione of Professor McGonagall. Both possessed the stern, no-nonsense air, but while McGonagall was always tightlipped, not to mention old, this woman appeared blasé, her painted lips remaining perfectly relaxed. Her hands were neatly by her side, a fan held delicately in her right palm. When standing still as she was, she could easily pass as a life sized porcelain doll. Hermione admired her already. This woman must have some control over the rude man before her; he had released her fist to bow lowly at the lady.

The woman inclined her head ever so slightly and he straightened, dark hair cascading over her shoulder from the large golden ornament. As much as the women exuded grace, however, it didn't stop the air around them from becoming lot tenser than it had been earlier. The woman's calculating eyes studied Hermione quickly. Hermione shifted uncomfortably and resisted the urge to squirm.

"Who is this girl?" Unlike the man, this woman's voice did not send a tingling chill down her spine, but it did claim her respect. Hermione was disappointed though; she never did get the chance to finish learning Chinese, she had gone to Hogwarts instead.

"This girl?" He shrugged uncaringly. "I have no idea."

Onyx eyes narrowed unnoticeably. "Is this how I raised you?"

Amber eyes shifted towards the side, breaking contact with the woman's, a first, Hermione noted. "You did not raise me."

The woman's lips tightened and Hermione was once again assaulted with the similarities the woman had with her Transfiguration teacher. The younger man bowed stiffly before brushing pass the woman and back into the house.

Hermione would've let out a sigh of relief with the decreasing tension after the man's departure, but the woman's astute gaze froze her once again. Much to Hermione's surprise, a small smile graced her darkened lips. "Would you care to join me for tea?"

X

"Master…" Slim arms slid around broad and soaked shoulders and a head rested atop his shoulder. "OKAERI NASAI!" The arms around him tightened into a vicelike grip.

A smile painted his ghostly features and he patted the guardian on the head. "Ah Nakuru, ready to go?"

The androgynous moon guardian, who preferred the appearance of a female, pouted. She stared at him with large eyes, blinking as if she had a lash stuck in her eye.

He stared back pleasantly, waiting for her to speak. Nakuru frowned and gave up on fluttering her eyes at him. Clearly her feministic charms weren't having any affect on him.

"If you don't mind." Their attention was drawn backwards. "I would like to enter the house." It seemed they were blocking the doorway.

Eriol hmm-ed. "Problematic, yes?" He looked at Nakuru pointedly.

Nakuru's frown deepened and she directed a glare at the girl who interrupted her moment with her master. "Yes," she muttered, reluctantly letting go of him and moving away from the entrance. She watched as the black haired girl storm past her and towards the stairway.

Attention no longer diverted, she proceeded to remove Eriol's cloak. "How'd it go?"

Tomoyo hung her cloak on the hook and shook her head of the excess water. "He's better than the average customer, mind."

"But?"

The Japanese entrepreneur-in-training smiled. "I have no idea what it is that he wants us to find. Eriol?"

Eriol grinned. "Yes?"

"Suggestions would be helpful."

"I—" He wandered off into the living room and settled into his red arm chair. He placed the drenched and battered book onto the table, staring at it calculatingly. "—have no idea."

"You seem to have ample knowledge about who he is and where he's from," Meiling sniped condescendingly. She was dressed in new dry clothes. "I find it surprising that you claim ignorance about his situation."

"Headache Meiling? You're more snappish than usual." He smiled knowingly.

"You," Meiling growled, "did something to the stairs."

"Me? Why would you say that?"

She glared.

"What? It was Sakura-san."

"Sakura?" She rounded on the girl sitting quietly on the couch.

"Hmm?" The girl blinked out of her daze, smiling. "Oh. I added a few more layers to the barrier; seems you have trouble keeping your mind."

"Eh?" Nakuru smirked from behind Eriol's armchair. "You seem unbalanced Meiling. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine!" she snapped.

Eriol thankfully didn't comment.

Tomoyo, freshly dressed, bounded down the stairs, two books in her arms. "So, down to business." Tomoyo sat next to Sakura and plopped a heavy book onto the glass table. "Encyclopedia of Magical Artifacts – H (haych)."

Meiling groaned at site of the thick edition.

"And—" Another book, slightly thinner, was placed beside it. "—Beginners Guide to Immortality, fifth edition."

The girl next to her turned curiously, "Fifth edition?"

"The other four contain nothing of Horcruxes, if my memory is correct. We'll have to start from the fifth, haven't had the time to finish it you see." She tapped her chin. "Though there's another ten or so books after this, I think a new one is coming out soon."

Meiling leaned forward and dragged the second book towards her, searching for the author. "Someone's a bit obsessed with immortality." She eyed Tomoyo.

The girl smiled serenely. "Considering that most of our clients' concern center on this subject, I though it was wise."

The Chinese female was still skeptical, but she seated herself on a separate armchair, book on her lap. She flicked through it lazily. Tomoyo followed her example but was much more diligent. She immediately skimmed through the pages, searching through alphabetically for the word. "Haych, oh, ar, kay, ar, you, see, kay, ehs?" Tomoyo was the best at English, aside from Eriol (who showed no inclination to help), but even then she wasn't the greatest at the complex language.

Nakuru sniggered. "Horkrucks? That sounds quite… unique, in relation to souls of course."

Meiling snorted. "Oh please, it's just plain ridiculous." Her brows furrowed. "Speaking of, the way we greet the clients…" Meiling frowned and pinned him with a glare. "You never did tell me what's up with the dark clouds, storm and lightning. Not to mention the damn floating. It's a wonder anyone takes us seriously. I feel like a freaking clown!"

"Afraid of heights, Meiling?" She made her glare fiercer, but on someone as old as Eriol, it simply made him smile. He ignored her. "Try the letter 'c' instead of 'k', Tomoyo-san," he stated when she failed to find anything.

"Hey! What did I say about ignoring me?"

The puzzled look on his face was the last straw. The book in her lap sailed across the air. Nakuru squawked angrily.

With a smile, the blue haired man caught the volume and opened it to a random page. "Thanks very much Meiling." He turned the book around for all to see, which really didn't help much. From their distance, the only thing visible was the blur of the small black printed sans-serif font. Tomoyo squinted from across the table at one of the many bolded words in the middle of the page. "Ah, Horcrux is it?" She flicked through the pages of her book, searching for the word.

"According to the book, Horcruxes are stated legally within only one other book, Magick Moste Evile, 'of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction'." (1)

Meiling stared blankly, "In Japanese would be nice."

He translated the line as best he could.

"Oh," Meiling blinked slowly, "And?"

"And if we want to find out more about searching for what Mr. Potter wishes us to find, we'll have to tread on the other side." Naturally he meant the law.

She still didn't quite understand the point of what he was saying. "What else does the book say?"

"Ah." The sorcerer turned the book back around and scanned the book. Leisurely taking his time, his eyes moved back and forth behind his spectacles and he made an appreciative sound, minutes after.

"Well?"

"Well," he paused, "that's about it—" The raven haired girl was about to throw the nearest object at him (again); a glass paperweight. "Oh! And a reference to other books as well. Tomoyo-san, page 946."

The girl flicked back a page and beamed. "Got it." Tomoyo cleared her throat before translating, "Horcrux is a term that refers to any object in which a person has concealed a part of his or her soul. It is when he or she implants a… eh, fragment of his or her soul within an object, inanimate or living."

"Someone's a bit paranoid," Sakura commented offhandedly from Tomoyo's right. Her head was cushioned atop her arms, which were resting on the armrest. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be dozing off.

Tomoyo smiled. "Death makes people do stupid things. Though to even think about splitting up your soul… Didn't Potter-san say Horcruxes?"

"So there's someone crazy enough to split his soul up into more than two pieces. Great, more psychopaths," Meiling murmured distractedly. She was busy concentrating on throwing and catching the paperweight. "Alright then, we have a teenager wanting to kill a madman who is crazy enough to split up his soul. Am I missing anything?"

Eriol flicked through the pages of the thick book, thinking. "I think I recall something about a corrupt government."

"I—" Sakura rubbed her eyes blearily, "—am going to go take a nap. Goodnight." The auburn haired sorceress was feeling lethargic, more so than usual. She stumbled towards the stairs.

A loud slam startled everyone in the room. Eriol set the closed book onto the tabletop. "Great idea Sakura-san, I think I will as well." He cheerfully followed her example.

Silence followed the retreating couple.

"Sorcerers," Meiling scoffed, "not a care in the world."

Tomoyo nodded. "Like gods almost."

"Too good for us mortals." Meiling rolled her eyes and shifted to the place that Sakura had occupied. "What else does this book say?"

X

Imagine Hermione's surprise when she discovered the identity of the woman she was having tea with. To her luck she had landed a meeting of sorts with the Matriarch of the Li Clan. Amazing! She wondered fleetingly if Ron had poured some Felix Felicis (2) into her drink this morning but remembered The Rude Man and dismissed that thought. (The Rude Man was made into proper nouns because she didn't know his name.)

After overcoming her impersonation of a fish she was able to analyze the woman more carefully. The Matriarch simply wasn't what she had expected. Voice lightly layered with a Chinese accent, she was not unkind, but not stern either, not like how she was with The Rude Man earlier. That struck Hermione as odd. Perhaps the man was a servant of the family… No, he seemed too dignified for that, too rude as well.

Unfortunately, the hierarchy of the clan was foreign to Hermione. She had little knowledge of pureblood families and could only assume that clans were similar, if not more strict—which did not explain the Matriarch's warm demeanor.

"And you wish for an alliance with us?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. Unlike The Rude Man, this woman—Yelan she said her name was—showed her respect and listened fully to what she had to say without interrupting. The fact that she seemed interested was also a plus.

"What can you offer us in return?"

"From my research, your clan is immersed in Eastern magic. I could provide a means of introducing the art of our magic to you in exchange."

Yelan sipped her steaming cup of tea, contemplating the advantages of the trade.

"Of course, not saying that Eastern magic is inadequate Mrs. Li, just that with a variety—"

"Miss Granger." Yelan set down her cup. "What makes you think that we do not have access to your magic?"

The question was not asked unkindly, but there was an undertone to the Matriarch's voice, a warning. Suddenly Hermione saw the similarities between The Rude Man and this lady. She hastily stammered an answer. "It is not that I don't think that you are able, but the fact that you clan was stated to be highly isolated from the rest of the magical world in Sorcery: Asian Influences. I assumed that you might appreciate firsthand knowledge of witchcraft and wizardry."

Yelan delicately sipped from her herbal tea again, eyes piercing right through Hermione. Her lips parted and Hermione held her breath.

"I will discuss the matter with the clan and speak with my son."

The witch didn't quite know how to react, but for the time being, she was still on safe grounds.

"For the time being," Yelan smiled kindly, "do you mind showing me some of your Western magic?"

And Hermione was able to breathe again, relieved. The brunette beamed and pulled out a wand.

Yelan smiled behind the rim of her cup. Clow Reed's western traits of wizardry had always intrigued her. He had been the first to introduce objects as the main direct focal points for using magic in Eastern sorcery. Now she understood where he got the idea from.

But a wand?

Yelan stifled her laughter but allowed amusement to shine in her eyes. At least he modeled the sealing wand after their staffs. Goodness knows how capturing the cards would've been with a wand.

X

Footnotes

(1) From Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Chapter 18: Birthday Surprises.

(2) Felix Felicis: A potion known that is basically liquid luck, first mentioned in Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Chapter 9: The Half-Blood Prince.