DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does.
Yo, family! I'm sorry for not updating for 3 months, hope you guys forgive me! Aight' so the italics in a certain part of this chapter will be when my boy Maxi is speaking in Spanish to another individual. What part? You're just going to have to read and find out :3
December 22 Day after Barcelona game
I was currently sitting in the living room of my father's house located in North London, still on a high after the Barcelona game wondering about a few things. Firstly was who we'd end up drawing in the Champions League and the options weren't really that inviting. The 15 teams available to draw were
Paris Saint Germain (the hosts)
Real Madrid
Bayern Munich
AC Milan
Borussia Dortmund
Juventus
Arsenal
Manchester United
Ajax
Liverpool
Galatasaray
Marseille
SL Benfica
Bayer Leverkusen
Atletico Madrid
Personally I'd rather draw Leverkusen or Benfica but knowing our luck we'd draw the hosts, Milan, or Madrid.
The second thing I was mulling over was the Yule ball. Now not many people knew this because frankly I could care less about blood wars but I actually was a Pureblood. My father came from a long line of German nobles and inherited the oiling company from his now currently laid to rest father while my mother came from a middle-class and humble family.
My mother always taught me etiquette when I was younger and my response was always the same. Why?
I guess now I had my answer but it still didn't change the fact that it annoyed the hell out of me when I was younger.
I was abruptly cut off from my thoughts when my father walked in. I looked at him to greet him.
"Hey" I said.
He turned to me and responded the same.
I noticed that he had his suit packed and I immediately thought he was going away on business when I noticed that my suitcase was next to his as well.
"What're you doing with my suit case" I asked with my Texan accent that had never really left me but the ladies back at school loved it so I wasn't one to complain.
"I'm going to Malaga to visit someone I know…" he said with a slight distance in his voice, "and you're coming with me."
"I'd love to come, but why are you asking me to accompany you? I mean, you've never taken me on one of your trips before, not even to my birthplace."
"I'm taking you because it's important and let's leave it at that" he said with a tone that dared anyone to say otherwise.
So I put up my hands in surrender.
Malaga was very similar to Barcelona in terms of temperature; it was nice and sunny on a cold winter's eve. I know it doesn't make sense but if you were here it would.
We didn't talk much me and my father, only made small talk when we arrived to the Malaga training grounds.
"Dad, why are we at Malaga's football training pitch?"
He didn't answer my question but rather nodded in the direction of a player on the field. I turned to see the mysterious player that caught my father's attention. He was a kid, maybe 11 or 12 and by his position on the field he looked to be a central midfielder just behind the attacking mid and alongside the defensive counterpart. He'd push up the field to help on the attack while the defensive/holding midfielder would stay back and, well, defend. I payed closer attention and noticed his qualities. He was good on the ball (dribbling) good passer, and an amazing distance shooter. When I came back he was a decent holding mid so a versatile player was pretty good in my books, but why was I here? Sure he was an amazing young talent and could be something big in the near future but why did my father bring me out to Malaga just to see a kid? He said he was coming to meet someone he knew; surely he wasn't in contact with an 11 to 12 year old?
"Ok seriously Dad, why are we here?"
Finally Thomas Köhler Jr. turned to me and said, "I told you I'd come here to visit someone I knew."
"Yeah but surely you don't mean the kid on the field" I retorted.
"No, but I know his mother…" he replied, trailing off suspiciously at mother.
"Then let's hurry this up and go meet her, I'm bored."
"So you'd just turn your back and leave on family?"
"No, but how would I even do that? You're my means of transportation."
We heard cheering from the pitch and I turned to see the whole team congratulating the kid on who I assumed just scored. I heard my father from the side
"I wasn't talking about me Max…"
Okay, I'm confused. First of all, he never uses my shortened name, ever. Second of all, what other family could he be talking about?
"Okay you lost me."
Once again he didn't answer me but kept looking and the player on the field. Suddenly it hit me. I swiftly turned my full attention to the athlete on the field and started connecting the dots.
1 My father said he came to visit someone he knew.
2 He keeps looking at this kid on the field.
3 He trails off suspiciously at knowing the kid's mother.
4 He starts talking metaphorically about family and him not being the one.
My eyes widened when I came to the conclusion. My father was a man-whore! I mean it really didn't surprise me. My mother left him when he was in his early 20's and he's rich, plus a pureblood. Yeah, kind of stereotypical but I haven't been proved otherwise.
"Huh," I said, "huh, hmm, huh. So that kid's my half brother?"
"Took you long enough" he replied.
"Does mom know?" Really that was all I cared about in the moment.
He nodded.
"How'd she take it" I asked.
"Surprisingly well."
Of course she would. My mother would never admit it but she was too kind and caring for her own good. Sometimes I wondered that if a murder would kill me or my father, if she would easily forgive the person. Probably not, but you never knew. My father turned to leave.
"Come on, let's go" he said.
"Where to" I asked
"To meet Isabella" he said.
I sat outside the Spanish villa while my father spoke to his 'lady'. From time to time I would hear her yelling and most of all cussing in Spanish but Thomas probably deserved it. I was so distracted that I didn't notice the figure approaching me until he was right in front of me. I looked up and saw that it was the kid.
"Hi" he greeted in Spanish.
I took in his feature and noticed some similarities and differences. He got his tanned skin from his mother, her hair, and probably mouth. What he had in common with my father, what he had in common with me, were the nose, jaw line, and most of all those grey blue eyes that the Köhler men were famous for. I must have made this awkward because he started getting nervous so the ease the tension all I could do was greet him back.
"Hi"
Okay, yeah this chapter sucked but hey, that plot twist tho' Anyways I'll try to update faster next time family.