Chapter 11

Thor awoke in a hazy glow. It was like the sun was desperately trying to burn through its cloudy prison. He knew the light was there, its warmth there but it lay just beyond his reach. This is what Thor thought as he lay once more on the desolate frozen lake grasping at its surface. A thick icy wall separating him from the mystical glow.

The light drew him, created a deep longing within him. For some reason he just had to have that light, to feel its warmth. He pounded at the ice desperately, trying to breach it, to form a crack in the cold wall that obscured the light and kept it from his grasp. He assaulted the surface till his hands were bloody and raw leaving the ice stained red. Unable to even leave even a scratch in the barrier he collapsed into a pile of heart wrenching tears.

As he wailed away in the cold he became aware of someone standing over him. He looked up through his watery eyes to see the form of father frowning disappointedly at him. If he was in a pit of despair before, his father's glare had ripped the floor out and he was falling into the depths of his internal darkness.

He made to speak, to defend his weakness to his father but no words would come forth. His father's mighty hand griped his throat and lifted him from the ground.

"You are not strong enough to be my son." His father said before chucking him into a snowbank at the lake's edge. The snow numbed his bloody hands and stung the wounds. However, his wounds were nothing in comparison to the verbal abandonment of his father.

Thor looked up expecting to see his father's disapproving expression but was graced by the cold shoulder of his back. It was as if Thor didn't exist. Instead his father's attention was fixated on the light coming from the lake. He drew his wand and began barraging the ice with blasts of magic.

The ice groaned deep and sorrowfully against the force of his father's magic. Cracks began to form creating a kaleidoscope of crystals. At this rate it would not take long before the ice succumbed to the assault.

A flash of red drew Thor's attention away from his father. Out of the darkness crept the three tailed fox. It appeared highly agitated with its tails standing on end and bright embers shooting forth from its body. The creature lunged at his father interrupting his assault and setting his arm ablaze.

His father howled in an inhuman rage and knocked the fox off his shoulders. The fox leapt forwards once more but his father pelted it with a series of spells. The flames surrounded the creature continued to grow against each blast.

When it seemed like his father was about to defeat his assailant the flames exploded setting much of the winter grove ablaze. Standing where the fox had once been was a massive demon. It's wolf-like features looked familiar and filled Thor with fear.

His father buffeted the beast with powerful waves of magic but they did little more than ruffle its fur. The demon lunged towards his father and struck him with its powerful arms. Thor was shocked at how easily the beast had sent his father flying. Before his father could get to his feet the demon was on him striking his back with sabre-like claws.

The sight of his father's blood shooting through the air made Thor's stomach churn.

And then the beast took his father's head into his jaws...The noise that followed was unbearable. Thor retched into the snow and cried bitterly.

He could hear the beast padding its way towards him, the impending doom just metres away. Thor turned to face his fate, to put up one last front of courage and redeem what little honour he had left. But when he saw it's eyes, the intense burn of rage, the raw power, all that remained in him was terror. He had to get away for here, get anywhere but here. Scrambling, he made to start but it was too late, the beast was on him.

Thor lay awake, unable to move. He was soaked in sweat and his heart was beating so fast it felt as if it would break through his chest.

Those eyes, he couldn't get them out of his head. Even now, he could still feel them burning into him. What kind of evil was afoot to have cursed him with such nightmares.

"Oi Thor get up!" Fandrall called tossing a pillow at his face.

Thor shot up and pinned Fandrall against the wall. He couldn't control himself, his blood was on fire, his heart was racing too fast.

"What the fuck man! Let go of me." Fandrall struggled free, " Seriously what's wrong with you?"

Gradually Thor's heart slowed down and he started to relax.

"Come on, get your head in gear. We can't have you tripping balls in the middle of today's game. It's the first of the season."

"...uh..Sorry brother. But do not spook me like that."

"Yeah yeah whatever. You better hurry up and get ready, your dad will be here soon."

Thor froze once more. He could still hear the horrific crunch of his father's face being torn off.

"My father...Oh crap!"

You could tell it was game day as the whole school was buzzing with excitement. There were festivities planned all evening around the match and there were rumours that some of the older students were going to smuggle in butterbeer from La Tuque. Jean-Paul doubted these rumours were anything more than desperate imaginings of eager under-agers but that didn't stop several of his housemates from attempting to transfigure pebbles into red beer cups.

Today was also a big deal because the entire Council was visiting to inaugurate the game. Already much of campus was crawling with the realm's elite security and most of their rooms were being inspected to the dismay of his housemates.

Jean-Paul didn't understand the excitement, he had seen the Council several times at festivals and sports events. His clan's representative, Councilman Lebeau was notorious in Ville Marie as quite the partier. There was some controversy around his election to the Council from the other wizarding clans but they just didn't understand the French, who were renowned for their offbeat culture. Lebeau came from one of the preeminent family's within the French clan, his grandfather had held the seat before him. People didn't expect a life of politics from him as he had spent much of his youth gallivanting about Louisiana. But when his grandfather died he abruptly returned to the Laurentides and took his place on the Council, to the joy of the French peoples. There had been a week long party in Ville-Marie to mark the occasion much to the annoyance of the rest of the realm.

Classes that morning had been quite unproductive as the students were bubbling over with anticipation, filling the classrooms with a relentless armada of chatter. Their professors were also on edge as it was customary for the Councilmen to sit in on the afternoon classes and thus spent the morning making everything spick and span.

Jean-Paul was just as eager as everyone else for the game to start but for slightly more nefarious reasons. All week he had been relishing the moment when he could defeat those Nordic douchebros who had been harassing his sister. In his mind he had been running an image of that asshole Fandrall getting knocked out by an exploding quod, blowing the smile of his cheeky face. He wanted to see the look on Thor when his "oh so macho" team met their match in front of his Councilman father. The great Moose House, with its Nordic stars, would look like weaklings compared to the superior speed and technique of Fox House.

Jean-Paul was confident that he could fly circles around these lumbering idiots. It would be just like at L'Academie des Sorciers du Mont-Royale, where he had once scored all ten points and won the game in under ten minutes. He had earned himself the nickname Northstar with his breathtaking agility and finesse.

Despite his personal vendetta against those jerks in Moose House Jean-Paul was most excited to get in the air again. It was when he was out in the open air that Jean-Paul finally felt free of his insecurities. Whatever snide remarks his colleagues threw at him couldn't reach him there. No matter what anyone said, no one could deny that Jean-Paul was born to fly.

There was something about those moments in the heat of the match, when he was soaring through the air racing against the clock that set his blood running like nothing else. He loved how he could feel the pulsated energy desperately trying to escape the quod. After years of experience he was now able to sense the exact moment when the ball was about to blow. At that point he had a instant to find a target either into the pot or into an opponent's face. The rush of making a perfectly timed goal seconds before the quod exploded was one of his favourite sensations in life.

The Council arrived during the lunch hour when the majority of the student body was packed into the great hall. When they entered the relentless chatter died to a dull mummer as everyone scrambled to get a good view. As mentioned earlier the members of the Council carried celebrity like status within their respective clans. And for many muggleborn students, this was a first sighting, and they were curious to see the leaders of their new magical realm.

"What y'all looking at?" Fury yelled into the room, "You punks are acting like you've never seen a bunch of old people before. Just because there is a big match today doesn't mean the world stops turning. Sit back down and return to your lolligagging or whatever you teenyboppers do. You'll see more than enough of the Councilmen this afternoon. Now go, I said sit."

"Fury you are très bien avec des enfants." Jean-Paul saw Councilman Lebeau give his signature smirk, "You're like a dad. Eh Mon père? Papa?"

"Don't even..." Fury grumbled as the Council walked towards the headmaster's office.

Jean-Paul imagined it must be fun to be on the Council and spend your days playing games with lives of the people of the Laurentides. But he was not a confident socialite like Fury or Lebeau and doubted he would be able to handle all the drama.

He got another taste of Lebeau's charm in fourth period, defence against the dark arts. Jean-Paul had to laugh a bit when the Councilman first walked in because if there was anyone who could match the lady killer it was the lady who threatened to kill her students on a daily basis.

Professor Frost didn't appear to share his enthusiasm for this turn of events and scowled even more ferociously than normal.

"Of course, I would get stuck with you." she spat.

"How could I visit l'Academie without seeing its caractéristique la plus belle?" he purred as he bent to kiss her hand.

"Watch it Remy before I am forced to disapparate your left testicle...again."

"As fièrce as you are beautiful Emma, mais is that really the sujet le plus approprié for a classroom."

"You and I both have said worse in these halls."

"Well t'en shall we give them un goût des jours good old?" he said as he chucked a playing card in her direction. It crackled with energy suggesting that it had been enchanted with some powerful spell.

Frost caught it deftly between her index and middle fingers. "Hmpf whatever but you're doing all the work." She strutted to the front and addressed the students. "Class, today Councilman Lebeau will be teaching. Hopefully his vast experience will ignite your imaginations." On the word ignite she chucked the card back at Lebeau where it exploded on impact sending him crashing back against the wall.

The majority of the class was by now quite desensitized to Frost's teaching style but a couple of students still seemed quite taken aback by such violence being directed towards a member of the Council.

Lebeau slowly picked himself up, a huge smirk on his face. "Looks like you still got'it. You know you are la seule personne who 'as succesfully done ça."

"That's only because you let me." She said with surprising fondness. "Well Remy they are all yours."

"Okay mes gamins, where shall we begin?" He turned to face the class, "Who can tell moi, what cet enchantment vous rappele de?" Another charged card shot from his hand and burst in the air above them.

Jean-Paul was impressed by the Councilman's mastery of non-verbal magic, but it seemed appropriate as the Councilmen were supposed to be the most powerful wizards in the realm. The girl beside him's hand shot up. "Umm it looks kind of like a quod."

"Ouais.. À cause de le match de Quodpot today, I t'ought it would be amusant to 'ave a leçon spécial." He somehow managed to pull a quod out of his cloak. "Did you kiddies know t'at quand on joue Quodpot, we are using la magie noire? L'enchantment sur les quods is en fait a variant of a spell dangereux et puissant. As Mme. Frost can tell vous, this spell is a favori de sorciers noirs. Aint t'at right Emma?"

Jean-Paul was well aware of Professor Frost's time during the Second Wizarding War and thought he saw the slightest waffle in her icy facade.

"Yes. Voldemort's deatheaters were quite fond of blowing things up."

"Right. Eh bien dans Quodpot le spell est slightly moins néfaste dans nature. M. Peasegood was no sorcier de maître, and quand sa baguette accidentally enchanté le quod, the spell résultant 'ad une explosion plus faible. It also had une explosion retardée, blowing up au hasard. Depuis Peasegood 'ad un bon sens de l'humour, 'e took l'accident et voila, quodpot was born avec ce spell 'andy dandy: Expulsivo Dilato!"

He chucked the ball and it bounced around the room for several minutes knocking things of the shelves and sending the students cowering under their desks. It was heading suspiciously towards Professor Frost's face when she raised he wand a blew it up into a cloud of dust.

"I think we have had enough of that." She gritted.

"I t'ink not. T'ey 'aven't 'ad time pour pratiquer. Now does anyone know l'enchanment originale?"

"I don't think that is a good idea they are a little young to control such a high level spell."

"T'at didn't stop us de trying quand nous étions de leur age." He told her with a wink before turning back to the class. "Anyone? Non? Well it va comme ça, Expulso!" A girl in the front row's desk exploded into a fine powder. She looked stunned.

"Now vous essayez. Blow up votre pupitres."

For several minutes the students waved their wands frantically at the desks it front of them. The most anyone got was some shaking which made the desk look mildly epileptic. Jean-Paul tried to be as direct as possible with his spell, focussing like he did when he made to score in quodpot. Expulso!... Expulso!... Expulso!...

SNAP!

A large crack had formed in the wood, but it was no where being blown up even in the loosest of terms.

"Peut-être t'is would be plus facile si we 'ad more espace? Expulso!" Lebeau waved his wand and all the furniture dissipated, covering the room with fine dust.

"I hate you. You'd better clean this up or else it won't be just your left testicle." Frost looked like she meant it and Jean-Paul thought he saw Lebeau shudder slightly before his sly smile appeared once more.

"Hehe Always la vie du parti." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a leather satchel full of small sacks which he began chucking at the students with little discrimination.

"Let's move back à la première charme. Enchantez le sac and attemptez de frap vos classamtes."

Clumsily people began to get the hang of the spell and sacs went flying around with the occasional popping. A make shift battle line was drawn between Fox and Bear House. Luckily Moose House wasn't here or Jean-Paul would have most likely lost control. He saw his sister struggling to get the incantation right and took the opportunity to strike her with a sac. It didn't blow up so she picked it up and chucked it back. The problem was, like quodpot no one knew exactly when the ball would explode so the lesson devolved into a chaotic sea of pelting.

"What the hell is wrong with you punks." Frost yelled, "You are all flapping around like ducks. I know I taught you to defend yourselves better than this. Ames, you call that a shield!"

Jean-Paul was in the midst of assaulting his sister with another throw. Just like when he played quodpot he had the slight inkling that it was about to blow. But as he threw it another was hurtling towards him. He threw up a shield in defence but the explosion still sent him staggering back.

Lebeau caught him and bent down to whisper in his ear. "Shields are jamais très efficace contre t'is type de spell. Le secret is de prolonger le time de l'explosion et deflect it ailleurs. try t'is Addita Tempore."

He was then thrust back into the middle of the fray. Sacks were whipping past his face in a mad frenzy. One exploded by his shoulder knocking him forward. Another zoomed towards his head before he quickly reached out and caught it. He fumbled for his wand to cast Lebeau's spell but the ball exploded before he could, sending sharp pangs up his arm.

Gaining his composure, wand in hand he scoured the air looking for the next attack. A woosh of air behind him drew his attention and he turned to see a ball about to explode in his face.

"Addita Tempore!" He yelled and caught the ball with the force of his wand. The explosion stalled for a second giving him time to whip the ball at Jeanne-Marie. It exploded on impact causing her to release a high pitched squeal.

"Haha Success finalement!" He yelled with triumph.

Professor Frost stared him down with a wry smile and called out, "New lesson: whoever can knock Beaubier out of the centre gets an extra 5% on their final."

"Sounds good pour moi." His sister grinned before chucking three sacks simultaneously at him.

With great difficulty Jean-Paul managed to deflect the first two before ducking to barely dodge the third. When he got back up the rest of the class was staring him down like bowl of seven layered dip. Within seconds he was bombarded by an onslaught of sacks in his general direction.

By some great miracle Jean-Paul made it to transfiguration class alive. He hadn't survived unscathed though as there were several large welts on his back that would bloom into wicked bruises tomorrow (Professor Frost hadn't really stopped at one hit) and his sister unfortunately had an extra 5% which she would probably hold over him forever. At least he was now quite adept at the deflection spell. However he still needed a wand to cast it which led to some difficult acrobatics in the brief instances before impact.

Councilman Boltagon was sitting in on their transfiguration class. Unlike Lebeau he didn't assist in the teaching or even make an announcement. Not that Jean-Paul expected him to, his silent reputation was well known.

According to legend a powerful spirit cursed him in his youth for being an annoying blabbermouth turning his voice into a force of destruction capable of levelling mountains. It was rumoured that the last time he spoke was during the giant rebellion, which had resulted in the formation of Lake Champlain. It had taken some great magical manoeuvring to make it seem like a piece of natural geography in the muggle realm and not a 1269km2 battle scar. This had involved the kidnapping and mindwiping of several top geologists to create an adequate amount of epistemic disagreement and the instatement of a herd of waterhorses to keep the rest of the muggles distracted enough that they wouldn't dig to deep into the lake's sketchy history.

He was so statuesque that Jean-Paul almost forgot that the Councilman and his aide were even in the classroom. That was until halfway through when they abruptly stood up and the aide whispered something in Professor Richards' ear.

"Okay everyone, since its game day and I know none of you are really paying attention enough to absorb anything into your puny brains, were ending early today. Go get ready for this evening and waste someone else's time."

The class burst into cheers and within seconds was gone. Jean-Paul found it kind of surprising that Richards had let them out early as he was one of the strictest teachers, but he had a lot to do to prepare for the game so he was glad for the extra time. He scurried down to his room to grab his gear, his adrenaline already pumping. The hours just ticking away until he could finally show Thor and his gang of bullies a thing or two about how to fly.

Thor had been dreading seeing his father all day. Under normal circumstances their relationship was prickly being as they were both big and gurff and not prone to father son bonding. But with this being the opening game. Thor knew expectations were high for him to uphold the family name.

And then there was the dreams. After last night's especially, Thor really wished today was over and her didn't have to deal with it. He wished he could just go and bury his face in his pillows, sleep away the remaining fragments of dream from his mind. But that was not an option. As a Norseman running away was not an option. Not showing up for today's match would bring immense dishonour upon his family. If that happened there would be no pillow fort that that would hide him from his father's wrath.

After watching Councilman Carpenter bitch her way through history of magic class Thor was sure his father would show up in charms. Surprisingly it was that French playboy Lebeau who walked through the door. Thor wasn't all that surprised as charms was taught by Professor Grey and Lebeau was an even sleazier excuse for a man than Fandrall.

Lebeau's presence awarded him a brief moment of relief, however he knew nothing could protect him from the impended doom that was his father. His mind was filled with a slew of complicated emotions, making it difficult to focus. Not that he was particularly interested in focussing on the Councilman's greasy attempts at flirtation.

The rest of the day flew past in a blur and before he knew it he was sitting in the dressing room strapping on his padding.

The room was buzzing with excitement as his teammates riled themselves up for the match. Volstagg was near drunk with happiness and was singing a war tune in a deep bass. The other players were banging there brooms along to the tune creating a powerful and almost menacing atmosphere. Hogan marched cooly between the rows of lockers, the energy of the room crackling around him. Every few steps he would bark a couple orders or bend down to inspect each players equipment, adjusting straps with almost unnecessary force and precision. With all the intensity floating in the air it almost seemed as if they were soldiers heading into battle and not some punk teenagers about to play a game of balls and brooms.

Normally Thor would have been right along with them, joining in the chorus and shouting tributes to ancient Nordic warriors. However today Thor was just filled with apprehension, confusion and a deep sense of dread. Nothing good would come from this day, he was sure of it. These smiles and songs of mirth would soon fade and all that would remain would be tears and screams.

"Dude what's wrong? You look like you're strangling kneazels with your mind." Fandrall piped in. "Come on stop being so constipated we have a game to win."

Thor just stared at him through weary eyes.

"Shhessh whatever man you're scaring me." Fandrall scurried off to join the make shift dance party that had formed.

Suddenly the music and reverie ceased and Thor looked up to see Balder standing at the locker room entrance, every inch the captain he was.

" Do you hear that?" He asked the room letting it sink into the silence. A dull roar could be heard building in the distance.

"That my brethren is the call of our classmates, our countrymen. They are summoning us to glory, will we rise to the challenge? This opening game is more than just the start of the quodpot season, it's the official start of the year. Those voices out there are pinning they hopes and dreams for this year on this game, on us. We can't walk away defeated, we're worth more than that. All of the preparation we've racked up in our minds, all the sweat from hours of practice means nothing to the crowd out there. They only care if we win, or we lose. They're depending on us to give them a reason to dream this year. For you guys, it's personal. It's so much more. Win today, we'll have proven ourselves. We have earned the right to stand alongside our ancestors who laid the foundation for this school, for this realm. So what do you say? Are we worth it? Shall we answer their call?"

There was a brief pause as their captain's words sunk in before Hogan stepped forward and replied, "Aye."

A resounding chorus of Aye's rang through the locker room with increasing excitement and intensity.

"What about you my son?"

Thor instantly recognized his father's voice inches away from him. A brief flash of terror shot through his body as he recalled the last words that voice had uttered, "You are not strong enough to be my son." Crap! Where did he come from? Thor was not ready for this yet. He struggled desperately to regain his composure as he slowly lifted his head to see that all eyes were on him. Damn it! He could not show weakness to his father.

"aye..." he muttered softly.

"What was that boy? I'm afraid I'm hard of hearing in my old age."

"AYE!" Thor roared and stood up fist in the air, doing whatever was in power to appear the strong son his father wanted. "Those foxes think us slow and stupid, they think they can win through strategy and speed. They scurry about our feet in a foolish attempt to trip us. But little do they know that Moose are sturdy folk and do not stumble easily. By running between the feet of a moose they are only a few centimeters from ending beneath them. Let us show them the true strength of Moose House. Let us honour Hottah!"

There was another roar of agreement and Fandrall ran over to pat him on the shoulder.

"Glad you're back."

"Let's just end this."

"Yeah yeah exactly. I'm liking the dark brooding killer attitude you got going there. You could give Hogan a run for his money."

"Councilman Borson, the floor is yours if you would like to say something to the team." Balder said directing attention away from Thor.

"Thank you Captain, and may I add what a fine job you have done bringing together a team of our clan's strongest young men and women." This speech, not surprisingly, didn't apply to the three non-nordic members of the Moose House team.

"There is no need for me to give you a roaring speech telling you to play hard or to try your best because you are all sons and daughters of the rock. These other clans and their mudbloods are unwise to think they can even compete against our Nordic blood. They forget the ways of old. They grow industrious and modern. They think themselves wise and powerful. But we know that is not the case. This game then isn't about winning. Because with the great fury of Ahayuta-Achi on our side losing isn't possible. This game is about reminding the other clans who defeated the frost giants, who pushed back the ice and who made these lands hospitable for all. They will regret the second they questioned the power of our people. With this game we will reaffirm our clan's position as the champions of this land. Make them cry, make them bleed if you have to. Destroy their will and earn your people's honour. Go now, youth of the rock, earn your place as a member of our clan."

Thor knew the last words were directed at him and felt his resolve grow stronger. With a quick stare to rub in it, his father disappeared back to the Council's booth.

There was only a few moments left before the game and the intensity was almost suffocating. Thor quickly double checked his gear and braced himself for the impending action.

A siren blared and everyone jumped to attention. With a raucous shout the team rushed forward into the stadium. The roar of the crowd growing louder with each step.

As they neared the entrance the distinctive crackle of fireworks being shot into the air, could be heard. An eruptions of light, sound and colour greeted them as they stepped onto the field. It was such sensory overload that Thor felt all his thoughts being burned away.

He looked up to witness a the spectacle before him. A sea of beaming young faces, lit up with hope and excitement. These were his comrades and he was going to give them a show.

A blinding light appeared above the stadium, taking centre stage. One by one the spirits stepped out of the light and took their place above their respective houses. There was much uproar around the arrival of the guardian spirits however Thor's attention was drawn to the distinctively family figure of a certain three-tailed fox. For a brief moment Kueshu stared back at him through its dark and endless eyes. Thor really wished he wasn't here right now.

When Jean-Paul had walked out onto the field for the first-time he knew this was right where he was supposed to be. The pomp and excitement exploding all around him, reminding him of the Junior League Championship Final last year. Except it was so much more, at a scale that was almost surreal.

It got even more out of this world when the guardian spirits entered the field. Their massive ethereal bodies imbuing the stadium with might and grace. The moonlight wings of Totoba circled the pitch before landing majestically atop the Owl House grandstand, its residents clad sharply in cornflower blue and silver robes. Muwin lumbered across the pitch to the pine and gold robes of Bear House, leaving sprouting flowers in his wake.

Then the two main players appeared. Hottah, its fur a brilliant mustard with antlers of shimmering bronze stood powerfully at the one end of the field, evaluating the scene with his old furrowed eyes. Behind him, the seats full of

matching students, let loose great whoops of support and elation.

The great fox spirit was facing Hottah off at the other end of the stadium. The normally small and stealthy spirit was burning with energy, its Tails billowing around its body like a mighty flame.

Jean-Paul looked back at his housemates who were in the midst of some elaborate and mildly unsuccessful cheer that compared Moose House to pixie dust and involved the moon, a basilisk and several stirring spoons. He was looking forward to putting on a show for them.

All around him were the cardinal red and ivory uniforms of the Fox House quodpot team. The material was far superior to his old uniform, probably made of velour or velvet. It was ridiculously comfortable, so much so that Jean-Paul was tempted to wear it in place of his formal robes.

Kueshu and Hottah slowly stepped back from their faceoff and Headmaster Xavier was wheeled in by Professor Richards.

"Welcome everyone to the opening quodpot game of the 2008 season. With this event we formally begin the school year so I hope you have all been enjoying the added festivities."

The crowd responded with a wave of cheering.

"This game is an important honour and the teams of Moose House and Fox House have worked hard to reach this point. As you have probably noticed the Council has joined us this evening to honour the hard work of these athletes and to bless the endeavors of all our students for the upcoming year. Would you please give them a warm National Academy welcome."

The Council rose to their feet and another mighty roar erupted from the stands.

"Well I can tell that you are all dying with excitement so let's not delay this any further. Could the team captains please step forward to join me."

Balder and Peggy strode over to stand face to face beside the Headmaster.

"Once again I would like to congratulate you two on the hard work you have done to create talented teams of our schools best and brightest. Best of luck to the both of you. Peggy, since Fox House scored the highest in the preliminaries last year would you like to call it."

"Heads sir."

Xavier raised his wand and a beam of light shot upwards into the sky. A starling fell from the sky and landed, stunned at their feet.

"It looks like its head is closer to centre line so Fox House gets first ball. Well let's get this started then, I doubt your classmates can wait much longer. Go play your best."

Xavier was wheeled away and Peggy jogged over broom in hand.

"Okay guys don't have a lot of time for words. Just remember the ball goes into the cauldron or into the face of one of those meat heads from Moose House. Now let's go, get into position everybody."

Jean-Paul gladly mounted his broom and shot into the air. All his tension just melted away as his face was reunited with the familiar rush of wind. He was so ready for this.

Once everyone was in position Professor Grey, who was acting as referee, flew to the centre.

"Let the match begin!" She called out as the pot spewed out a charged quod that she quickly knocked into the Fox House end zone.

Within seconds Jean-Paul was there his fingers clutching onto the ball's leather frame. This was going to be easy. All he had to do was zoom to the centre, with his superior speed, and drop the ball into the pot, a giant iron cauldron that was suspended 50 metres into the air. It would be like dropping pennies in a jar, a piece of cake.

WAM! The Moose House assistant captain charged into him with the force of a freight train. The immense mass and speed of the fatty, who could barely fit onto his broom, nearly knocked Jean-Paul off and sent him scrambling for his broom. The quod slipped from his fingers into his assailant's, who rushed towards the clear line.

"Oi Beaubier! Get your head in the game." Peggy yelled. "This isn't some fantasy land it's the real deal."

"Yeah fairyboy, come back from Lala Land." A moose goon jeered.

By the time he had regained his balance Moose House had already scored their first goal and the crowd had developed a new chant. "FLY AWAY FAIRYBOY!"

Jean-Paul knew he was better than this and mentally berated himself for his novice mistake. When the pot shot forward another quod Jean-Paul leapt at the opportunity for redemption. Ducking for increased speed he snagged the ball as it was inches away from an opponent's fingertips and then raced to clear it. Weaving around the enemy defenses he beelined towards the pot. Once in range he raised his arm triumphantly to make the goal.

CRACK! He was sandwiched between the masses of Fandrall and Hogan, as they simultaneously body checked him. His breath failed him and once again the quod was rushed away by the mustard robes of the enemy.

He paused, defeated, as another goal was scored due to his folly. A sharp punch to his arm, drew his attention as Nancy practically yanked him from his broom.

"What the hell do you think you're doing hotshot?" She hissed.

"I can't help it, ils me ciblent."

"Of course they're targeting you, you're supposed to be our best player. Not that you're playing like one, you're practically giving the quod away. Now shape up fairyboy you're making this team a laughingstock. There is no way we are going to win with you gallivanting about like some super star. You're on a team, remember, use them. If I don't see you pass the ball soon I'm going to personally ensure that the next explosion ends up in your face. Got that?"

Jean-Paul nodded quickly. Nancy was fucking scary. He kind of wished she hadn't decided to join the team last minute. But then again she was right.

"Now duck you moron."

Jean-Paul turned to see a flashing quod heading right for them. He shot downwards, as the quod exploded mere inches from where they had been.

He hung back for a bit to take in the whole setting around him. Peggy and two of the senior players were leading an attack. Moose House was putting up an aggressive defence but before they could steal the quod would be somewhere else passed on with ease. Peggy was so adept at handling the quod and had sent some opponents on a wild goose chase into the end zone before she doubled back and scored.

They may still have been behind by one but the goal was a nice change of pace. The Fox House bleachers erupted into celebration and some sparks of light were shot forward.

The quod was now in the hands of that douchebag who had violated his sister. Jean-Paul honed in on his target and bolted towards him. Fandrall was about to score but as he dropped the quod into the pot Jean-Paul intercepted the goal with a mocking smile.

Shifting back into his normal routine he dodged over to the clear line. Seeing Fandrall and his goons gaining on him, he remembered Nancy's threat and tossed her the quod. This didn't stop his assailants who continued to barrel towards him. Jean-Paul waited till the last second before slipping off his broom leaving his opponents to crash into each other above him.

Avoiding the crash, he hurtled towards the ground, the wind tearing at his robes. Like he had planned his broom swooped down and picked him up and he was back in the game. That whole maneuver was one he had mastered for the highly competitive matches of the junior finals.

Nancy looked like she was in position for a goal when suddenly she changed course and passed the ball to him. He was slightly confused by this, until he noticed that the ball was flashing. That bitch wasn't lying when she said she'd punish him. Having seconds to react he batted the quod with the end of his broom.

He then realized the point of her actions as the quod exploded upon the Moose House captain who had been floating distractedly near him. The explosion sent him crashing to the ground where he was picked up by medical workers and rushed off the field. The stadium was silent as no one had seen this coming, especially not Jean-Paul, but then a tremendous roar of celebration, surprise and outrage soared out from the stands.

Nancy had the most smug expression on her face but Jean-Paul let her have it as it was definitely well deserved. To lose their captain so early in the match was a huge blow against Moose House and hopefully would shift the tides in the Foxes' favour.

When the pot shot out a new ball it was already flashing. Due to the random nature of the explosions this happened sometimes. Faced with a heavily defended pot and an exploding ball most people would have tried to knock out an opposing player. However in the wake of Balder's loss, Moose House's defenses were on high alert.

Then Jean-Paul had an idea. He caught the quod and then zoomed with all his might over their heads to the Moose House end zone. Jean-Paul was fast but the explosion was imminent. With as much strength as he could muster he whipped the ball at the end ring.

It bounced off the pole and through the ring which was enchanted to reset the charge. Having more time to act now, Jean-Paul caught the ball and passed in to a fellow player. It bounced around the inner circle as his teammates searched for an opening.

Moose House was livid though, becoming more and more aggressive in the wake of Balder's defeat. Jean-Paul rushed into to join the fray. As he neared someone passed the ball to him and he doubled his speed. Rather than head for the pot he dived underneath it. When the Moose defenses chased after him he circled back up and made the shot.

Jean-Paul was moving too fast to see what happened but the screams of delight from the red grandstand told him all he needed to know. At last he had scored his first goal in the senior league. He thought he could make out someone chanting "Northstar" in the stands.

From there things got brutal. Fox House having finally found it's groove was increasing its offensive. At the same time Moose House was becoming significantly more aggressive. The score was now 8 to 5 in Fox House's favour but they had taken a significant beating and only had 4 players remaining while Moose House still had 7.

Jean-Paul was still in the game however, his body felt as if it had been pelted by a thousand exploding quods. Moose House had only increased their assault on him and he had been on the receiving end of several devastating blows.

His bloody fingers struggled to hold on to his broom and his mind could hardly focus against all the pain.

The junior leagues were nothing like this. In fact Jean-Paul had never seen a team play as violent and dirty as Moose House. At this rate his team would be too bloody to play and Moose House would just drop the remaining quods into the pot.

Peggy was a champion though. She defended the pot as if her life depended upon it, diving left and right to deflect quods. When one of the thugs would try and hit her, quod or not she would strike back with deadly precision leaving the Moose team as crippled as their own.

Jean-Paul on the other hand was not in a great position. Three enemy players were surrounding him, passing a quod amongst themselves. Once it began to flash they would whip it at him repeatedly in the hope that it would blow. Jean-Paul hardly had the energy to dodge each blow.

Then he felt it, the slightest change in energy that marked an impending explosion. It was like watching the quod in slow-mo as it started to swell and glow as it neared his person. Without thinking Jean-Paul reached out, grasping his fingers around the near searing sphere, and shouted "Addita Tempore".

The explosion died down for a second giving him time to use his blistering fingers to whip the quod at one of his opponents. It exploded upon the fatass assistant captain who collided into the ground with the force of a meteorite.

Jean-Paul didn't care that he had probably just cheated. He was just glad that he had finally been able to cast the spell without his wand.

Before he had time to celebrate the other two Moose players were on him with such force that he was flung from his broom. He grasped desperately at its wooden frame, his tired blistered fingers struggling to hold him up. He could hear a great commotion about him, screams in the distance, an explosion or two. He wondered how this game had devolved into such madness.

Alas, the game had taken its toll on Jean-Paul and he could hold on no longer. As he fell a bright light filled the sky and the roar of the rushing air overtook his senses. The last thing that registered in his brain was Fandrall's blonde form get blasted from his broom by simultaneous explosions. He closed his weary eyes happily after finally witnessing his enemy get his comeuppance.

This game had done wonders for Thor's mood. The adrenaline of dodging explosions and crashing into enemies had brought out the primal warrior within him.

When Balder had gone down, Thor's worries had been overcome by anger and he led the charge to avenge his fallen brother. It had been a good game with lots of hard earned blood and sweat. The House of Fox had put up a better fight than he had expected but after almost an hour they were starting to show their weakness.

Although they were losing points wise they had Fox House down to their last members. It wouldn't be much longer until they all would be out. Thor knew his father would be proud with the valiant fight his team had put forward. Thor and his teammates were the embodiment of strength and valour. And soon they would give their people a victory to sung about for ages.

Right now was in the midst of pursuing that red haired minx who always caused so much trouble. He had a quod and was waiting for the precise moment to strike. She was doing a good job of keeping out of reach, making best use out of the remaining players.

Thor had to be careful as there was now more than one quod in play. The pot had spit out a second after the first ten minutes and a third after the first thirty. An explosion to his left drew his attention as Volstagg plummeted to the ground with thunderous force.

It was then that Thor realized his own quod was close to blowing up. However the fox had used Volstagg's fall as a distraction and was beyond his reach.

Nearby the Fox House captain was putting up a frustratingly good defence against Hogan and two other teammates. Seeing an opportunity Thor snuck a shot in at her back. With a bang The Fox House captain finally fell. He paused for a moment to stare smugly at her corpes-esque body, before a medical team lifted her off the field.

When he looked up he was greeted by Nancy's familiar glare. The charged expression she had as she fondled a quod was utterly demonic. The pot was right beneath him, leaving him as the last defense between Nancy and Fox House's ninth goal.

She charged forward eyes ablaze with unstoppable determination and he...he blanked. Something about the way she was glaring at him was hauntingly familiar, filling Thor with utter fear. He could see snow, and fire, and his father bleeding in the night. And he could see it...the demon...it was coming for him.

Spiralling into a panic attack Thor gasped for air. He tried to focus on happy thoughts: his mother, his brother. But the demon was only coming closer consuming all he cared about. He saw the Laurentides burning its cities and forests filling up with flame. Gros Morne, his home on the rock was a raging inferno. It was a scene of utter darkness and despair. The only light that remained was a faint warm glow glittering on the north side of the island that was home to the Nordic people. He tried to reach for it, tried to escape the darkness but it seemed further and further out of reach.

WAM! A quod struck his head bringing him back to reality. Regaining some composure, he looked for the source of the strike. Expecting Nancy to be gloating at him with those menacing eyes he was surprised that all that was on her face was panic. He followed her eyes to the pot beneath him and realized that it was bubbling wildly.

A quod shot out of it, grazing past his robe, followed by another. Nancy vanished into the distance as a third nicked his broom. Something definitely was afoul but before he could react a rogue quod collided with his head while another exploded beneath him.

He was sent hurtling in a daze as the world around him erupted into a fountain of exploding quods.

The last image that appeared before he drifted out of his consciousness was of his father's head in the monster's jaw, dripping with fresh blood. His mind was once more consumed by fire. It was happening, the demon was coming.