WIZARDS DUEL
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen
a/k/a Monkeymouse
1.12: Foreign Affairs
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it...]
"Happy Christmas." Harry slipped the velvet-covered box across the library table toward Cho. It was her first night back at Hogwarts, and they were again in their private corner of the library. She opened the box, and her eyes glowed.
"Oh Harry, where did you find this?"
"Didn't find it. I thought it up myself, and had someone in Hogsmeade run it up."
She pushed it back at him. "Put it on me. Please."
Without waiting for an answer, Cho stood up, turning her back to Harry and lifting the long black hair off of her neck. Harry was suddenly aware that, with all of the clothing and robes worn at Hogwarts, Cho was showing him quite a bit of skin--even if it was only the back of her neck. He started to sweat as he reached around her, then tried to work the catch. Cho's back was leaning up against his chest. He finally locked the catch and let his hands fall to her shoulders.
Now what? She must have known the necklace was in place now, but she didn't move, except to sort of inch her body back toward Harry's. At that moment, Harry was glad the robes were so thick; she probably didn't realize what was happening to him.
A second later, Cho pulled forward again. She turned, her eyes cast down, and with a blush to her cheeks that made her even prettier than before. "It's beautiful," she said, barely above a whisper. "I'll wear it until the day I die."
Now it was Harry's turn to blush as she looked up and into his eyes. "Well, that might be a bit, er..." He couldn't finish the sentence. "Cho?"
She smiled, took his hand and led him back to their table. "Sorry," she smiled. "I just got lost in your eyes for a moment. They're so beautiful."
"They're my mom's," he blushed. "I mean--well, you know what I mean. So, tell me what happened."
"My father seems to agree with me, but then he's really tried to adjust to living in England. My mother's the dead opposite. I think she saw my getting engaged to Andrew as the best way to preserve our heritage."
"I hope they haven't had any quarrels on my account."
"No," Cho smiled, "actually the quarrelsome one is Granny Li, my mum's mum. She and my mother have been going at it for years, over one thing or another. I think we're all rather used to it."
"And how does she feel?"
"Sorry, Harry, but I really don't know. Every time I tried to talk to her about this over the holidays, she changed the subject."
"That can't be a good sign, then."
Cho squeezed Harry's hand. "Don't worry. She still wants to see me happy more than anything else in the world. And it would be easier for you to talk to her than to my mum."
"It's funny. I can hardly wait to meet them this summer, and see what that part of Diagon Alley looks like. I'm also really scared. Feels like one of the Tasks last year."
"Well, you won those; you'll win them over too. I just know it."
"Do you think it might help if I learned some Chinese?"
"Not with my father; he hardly speaks it any more himself, unless he's having an argument with mum or transacting business. The others might be glad to see you at least make the effort."
"So, is there something special I'd call you? Apart from your name, I mean."
Cho giggled. "If this were China in the old days, I'd want you to call me 'hsin-kan.'"
"What's that, then?"
"Heart and Liver".
"That's gross!"
"Not if you think about it. It's just another way of saying that you can't live without me."
"Isn't there a simpler way to say 'I love you'"?
Cho leaned across the table, speaking barely above a whisper. "Wo." She gave Harry a gentle kiss on the lips. "Ai." Another kiss, soft as a butterfly's landing. "Ni." This time the kiss was longer, more intense. It was interrupted only by the steps of librarian Irma Pince along the stone floor.
"Well, well. What's all this?"
"Sorry, Madam Pince," Harry said; "we were studying, er, foreign languages." Cho turned her face away to hide her laughter.
"Well, study this, you two. The library's closing, and you have exactly five minutes to get back to your Houses. Off now!"
They scrambled madly to shove their books into their bags, then ran for the door, holding hands. By the time they left, their running steps and laughter echoed through the library, deserted except for Madam Pince and the pale figure who passed through a shelf of books to stand at the librarian's side.
"Good evening, Madam Librarian," the Fat Friar saluted Madam Pince. "Watching over the two lovebirds, are we? Ah, the innocent pleasures of the flesh; forevermore denied me, alas."
Madam Pince dabbed at the corner of her eye with a very large lace-trimmed handkerchief. "Does my heart good to see them. Makes me think history is repeating itself."
"Ah, you mean James Potter and his lovely Lily."
She nodded. "They found such happiness within these walls, only to find such horror beyond them."
* *
On the morning of 1 February, when Harry went into the Great Hall for breakfast, he noticed Dumbledore sitting at the head table. He had been there only once or twice since Christmas, and looked slightly more tired than he did back then.
Dumbledore seemed to read Harry's mind, as he had so often in the past, as he rose to address the school:
"I'm sure you've heard rumours of this before now, but details have been worked out, and I can now report that the International Student Quidditch matches will be held here this spring. Hogwarts will be represented by a team drawn from all of the Houses; a committee under the direction of Madam Hooch will be making that selection. Meanwhile, I would like to announce that the following schools will be sending teams to compete: Ayers Rock Wizarding School, Australia; Blue Crystal Mountain Retreat, of Monterey, California, the United States; Durmstrang of Bulgaria, a name which should be familiar from last year; and finally Kesshin Maho Gakuin, of Niigata Prefecture, Japan. Representatives of those schools will be here at Hogwarts in about a fortnight to finalize the arrangements. They'll be staying in the castle and dining here in the Great Hall. I expect that we will all show them the courtesy and friendliness befitting the Hogwarts name."
* *
"You've talked to him, haven't you?" Harry asked that evening in the library.
"Not exactly talked. I mean, he's half a world away. And every time I mention it in an owl, he never responds. My folks haven't told me how he feels, either, and I'm sure they keep more in touch with him than I do."
"Well, what am I supposed to do? I mean, what if he's going to be here?"
"Harry, please, this may seem hard, but do nothing. I need to see him first, face to face, to get an idea of what he's thinking. It's been so long since I have. Besides, he may not even be coming."
* *
But he was.
The representatives of the other wizarding schools arrived late on a Thursday, and spent all of the next day in conference with Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hooch and other faculty members. At dinner on Friday night, the representatives sat at the head table.
Before the meal, Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. "I'm sure that many of you wish that you had a chance to speak with your fellows from other schools. Tonight I shall become the djinni in the lamp and grant your wish. Desserts will not be served at the end of dinner but an hour later, during a social gathering where you can meet these four gentlemen. Please don't wear them out, though, because they have to leave early tomorrow morning."
The students certainly did want to speak with the visitors. Durmstrang was represented by Viktor Krum, last year's Durmstrang Champion in the Tournament. The rumour was that, even though he had attacked Cedric Diggory, he was not charged with a crime, since he was under the influence of the Imperius Curse. But he was too old to still be a student, Harry thought.
The witches seemed torn between two of the other visitors. The Australian school was represented by an Aboriginal student, whose coal-black skin was offset by his pale yellow hair and blood-red robes. Harry overheard one of the Gryffindor girls whisper to another that this student was "drop-dead gorgeous".
The same description, and the attention that went with it, seemed to apply to the American visitor. His sandy red hair was cut short and in an asymmetrical pattern. He had a square jaw, blue eyes and the kind of good looks that reminded Harry of Cedric Diggory.
This made Harry focus all the more on the remaining visitor. He seemed maybe a year older than Harry; a rather ordinary Asian lad: black hair thick but cut short, a white shirt and tie under his robes, which were sand- colored with pale blue calligraphy that kept scrolling from one phrase to another.
Harry couldn't help it. He kept looking back at Cho at the Ravenclaw table, trying to get her reaction. But she kept up a conversation with others on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Perhaps she was trying to avoid looking at the head table.
When dinner was over, the tables started levitating, rearranging themselves for the social hour. As the students left the Great Hall, Harry made his way to Cho and pulled her toward a side corridor.
Cho spoke up first. "Before you ask, no, I haven't had a chance to talk with him yet." She paused. "Or maybe I had the chance, but I just can't do it."
"What do you mean, can't?"
"He's still my oldest friend, Harry. We grew up together; he's practically a brother. I just want to find some way not to hurt his feelings."
"You're not having second thoughts about this, are you?"
"Are you saying you don't believe me??"
"No, not at all. But we'd talked about this for so long, and you said you'd speak with him..."
"And I will. Just not right now. And don't you speak to him yet either. I can't help it; I'm nervous about all this now."
So was Harry, but he didn't want to admit it. He simply said, "I'll see you later." Then he went up to Gryffindor to change into a better set of robes.
He took a very long time about it. For the first time in months, he saw an obstacle in the way of living happily ever after with Cho; he'd never even considered the possibility of someone or something stopping them from being together. Now, that obstacle started to loom larger and larger.
When he finally went down to the social, it was already underway. The Great Hall's levitating candles were mounted on miniature brooms that circled in the air above the students, giving the hall a festive look. Harry, though, was feeling anything but festive.
The largest knot of students stood close to the door, trying to talk to Viktor Krum. Ron was trying the hardest to get next to Viktor, who was finishing a sentence: "...so new headmaster asked me to join Durmstrang faculty as flight instructor."
"I thought sure you'd turn professional," Ron said, before any other student could say anything. "The Vultures must be loonies not to take you!" Ron was referring to Bulgaria's national Quidditch team, the Vrasta Vultures.
"Confidentially, I thought so too. But Vulture captain vanted me to vait a year for, how do you say, flavoring?"
"Seasoning." That was Hermione, who Harry had just noticed was standing very close to Viktor and listening very attentively. She waved: "Hello, Harry."
Viktor reached a very large hand toward Harry, who shook it as best he could. "Is good to see you again, Harry. Vill you be playing in championship?"
"That's up to the school. We've got some really good Seekers at the moment; I might get passed over."
"Listen to him, now," Seamus Finnegan interrupted. "Bein' all modest because of his lady love."
Viktor's face clouded over. "You are Seeker too, Hermy-o-ninny?"
Everyone burst out laughing. In spite of Hermione's well-deserved reputation for academic excellence, there were still some things she could not do. One of them was flying. She avoided brooms if she could help it. The idea of Hermione playing Quidditch was especially funny.
Hermione bit her lip. "I'll explain it all later, Viktor."
Harry decided to get some punch and cake, excused himself and went to the table. On the way he passed the Australian representative; his nametag announced him as Bruce Agnawolla. Some of the girls literally fluttered around him, trying to start conversations. But Bruce for some reason wouldn't be drawn out. He simply listened politely but silently and nodded at whoever was speaking. As Harry passed, though, Bruce looked at him searchingly, then solemnly nodded his head and went back to listening to the twittering of the girls around him. It was as if he knew...something.
The American was holding forth at another group. Like Viktor, he looked a bit too old for school. According to his nametag, he was "Chad"; just "Chad". "Yeah, actually, I'm as surprised we made the cut as you are. I mean, we all expected Salem to win it. But a few bad referee calls and some rough weather and, well, here we are."
"What do you study there?" one Hufflepuff witch asked.
"Well, I major in magical enforcement; the Auror track. There's lots of job opportunities, even if it's crap like doing security at Muggle casinos. Still, it's a start."
Chad wore his robes and his shirt half-open, and Professor McGonagall was clearly insulted that so much of his tanned chest was on display, as were the hairs on his chest and the zodiac medallion he wore. "I trust your academy's dress code isn't quite so casual," she sniffed.
"Ma'am, we don't hardly wear robes. Some classes, we don't wear anything at all."
All his listeners fell silent. It took McGonagall a minute to find her voice. "Do you mean to say..."
Chad just nodded. "Of course, that's just the classes we teach while soakin' in the hot springs. Relaxes the students, and they absorb a lot more of the lessons that way."
The faces of his listeners were now several different shades of scarlet. Harry quickly walked back to the punch bowl for a refill. He downed it in one gulp, took a deep breath, and turned to find Andrew.
He was at the far end of the hall. A number of students simply stood there, watching the calligraphy scroll across his floor-length robes. Colin Creevey was asking a question in that slow, loud voice people use when speaking to a foreigner: "What city do you come from?"
Andy looked at him for a minute with a steady, unnerving gaze, then broke into a wide smile. "West End, mate," he drawled in an elaborate Cockney accent; "Oo are you when you're at 'ome?"
Everyone laughed, including red-faced Colin. "My folks sent me to Japan," Andy went on, "wanted me to pick up several different styles."
Parvati Patil pointed to the name of his school, Kesshin Maho Gakuin, on his nametag. "What does that mean?"
"Gakuin just means school, and maho is magic. Kesshin, that's the tricky bit. It means to do something totally, with your whole spirit. Get it?" The other listeners nodded.
Harry was standing there the whole time, trying not to say anything. Don't speak to him, Cho had said, don't speak to him...
"Well, Hogwarts seems a bit like KMG," Andy was saying, answering another question. "Of course, it's hours to get there by rail from Tokyo, same as here. Only our school is tucked up in the mountains; the Japanese Alps, they call 'em. The skiing's just fab."
...don't speak to him, don't speak...
"Nah, there's only a few things different in that school. The Chinese arts, of course; I doubt this school teaches I Ching, geomancy, feng shui or any of that lot. Then there's ninjitsu, the art of the ninja, which has acrobatics and potions mixed in with actual magic. Seems a bit like cheating, if you ask me."
...she said don't talk to him about it, so don't...
"I'll tell you right now, though, that the girls over there are the big difference. And I know what I'm talking about; I've sampled my fair share of the goods, if you catch my meaning."
What?!
"Age is the key to it; they're very respectful to you even if you're only a year older. So you get yourself an underclass girl and you're all set. If we were at a dig like this in Japan, I could tell a girl to go get me some more cake and she'd hop right to it. Some of them are also pretty generous in dishing out the crumpets, if you get my meaning."
"A lot of, of THAT goes on, then?" one young wizard asked, his face turning scarlet.
"Probably a bit more than it does here, I'd expect. They're a lot less inhibited, the Japs are. Besides, we're up in the mountains, and it can get rather cold at night."
...He's making this all up; he's just trying to impress them...
"I've broken a few hearts along the way, I guess, but, the way I see it, who would they report it to? Most of the professors have a little bit going on the side. It's a pretty good country all-around, if you know how to work it right."
Just then, Dumbledore called for attention. "I'm afraid that I have to call a halt to the festivities. Our guests need to retire to their rooms. Thank you all for an entertaining and, I trust, informative evening."
Damned right it was informative, Harry thought. He stared at Andy Tan's back as he sauntered through the Great Hall toward his rooms.
Suddenly, it was as if Harry's mind went blank. He found he was a spectator to his own life, watching some stranger named Harry Potter run across the hall, through the door and into the foyer, where Tan was crossing toward the East Tower.
"CHO DOESN"T LOVE YOU!"
Harry hadn't realized at first that he'd yelled that out. He simply noticed that everyone had stopped moving and speaking, and were staring at him. Tan stopped in his tracks, turned and walked slowly back to Harry. In a soft voice, he asked, "You talking to me, mate?"
Harry kept his voice and his emotions in as much control as he could; he felt as if he would explode any second. "Cho doesn't love you. She loves me. And I love her. Get used to that, mate."
Tan, who was almost a head taller, looked impassively at Harry. "You're Harry Potter, then. When I was a kid, I always wanted to meet you. Not in these circumstances, of course. Well, now you're in my appointment book."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Gotta shove off for Japan soon. But when I come back, we're on for a wizard's duel. You and me; no seconds; one survivor. Get used to THAT, mate." He turned away from Harry and walked off.
...to be continued...
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen
a/k/a Monkeymouse
1.12: Foreign Affairs
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it...]
"Happy Christmas." Harry slipped the velvet-covered box across the library table toward Cho. It was her first night back at Hogwarts, and they were again in their private corner of the library. She opened the box, and her eyes glowed.
"Oh Harry, where did you find this?"
"Didn't find it. I thought it up myself, and had someone in Hogsmeade run it up."
She pushed it back at him. "Put it on me. Please."
Without waiting for an answer, Cho stood up, turning her back to Harry and lifting the long black hair off of her neck. Harry was suddenly aware that, with all of the clothing and robes worn at Hogwarts, Cho was showing him quite a bit of skin--even if it was only the back of her neck. He started to sweat as he reached around her, then tried to work the catch. Cho's back was leaning up against his chest. He finally locked the catch and let his hands fall to her shoulders.
Now what? She must have known the necklace was in place now, but she didn't move, except to sort of inch her body back toward Harry's. At that moment, Harry was glad the robes were so thick; she probably didn't realize what was happening to him.
A second later, Cho pulled forward again. She turned, her eyes cast down, and with a blush to her cheeks that made her even prettier than before. "It's beautiful," she said, barely above a whisper. "I'll wear it until the day I die."
Now it was Harry's turn to blush as she looked up and into his eyes. "Well, that might be a bit, er..." He couldn't finish the sentence. "Cho?"
She smiled, took his hand and led him back to their table. "Sorry," she smiled. "I just got lost in your eyes for a moment. They're so beautiful."
"They're my mom's," he blushed. "I mean--well, you know what I mean. So, tell me what happened."
"My father seems to agree with me, but then he's really tried to adjust to living in England. My mother's the dead opposite. I think she saw my getting engaged to Andrew as the best way to preserve our heritage."
"I hope they haven't had any quarrels on my account."
"No," Cho smiled, "actually the quarrelsome one is Granny Li, my mum's mum. She and my mother have been going at it for years, over one thing or another. I think we're all rather used to it."
"And how does she feel?"
"Sorry, Harry, but I really don't know. Every time I tried to talk to her about this over the holidays, she changed the subject."
"That can't be a good sign, then."
Cho squeezed Harry's hand. "Don't worry. She still wants to see me happy more than anything else in the world. And it would be easier for you to talk to her than to my mum."
"It's funny. I can hardly wait to meet them this summer, and see what that part of Diagon Alley looks like. I'm also really scared. Feels like one of the Tasks last year."
"Well, you won those; you'll win them over too. I just know it."
"Do you think it might help if I learned some Chinese?"
"Not with my father; he hardly speaks it any more himself, unless he's having an argument with mum or transacting business. The others might be glad to see you at least make the effort."
"So, is there something special I'd call you? Apart from your name, I mean."
Cho giggled. "If this were China in the old days, I'd want you to call me 'hsin-kan.'"
"What's that, then?"
"Heart and Liver".
"That's gross!"
"Not if you think about it. It's just another way of saying that you can't live without me."
"Isn't there a simpler way to say 'I love you'"?
Cho leaned across the table, speaking barely above a whisper. "Wo." She gave Harry a gentle kiss on the lips. "Ai." Another kiss, soft as a butterfly's landing. "Ni." This time the kiss was longer, more intense. It was interrupted only by the steps of librarian Irma Pince along the stone floor.
"Well, well. What's all this?"
"Sorry, Madam Pince," Harry said; "we were studying, er, foreign languages." Cho turned her face away to hide her laughter.
"Well, study this, you two. The library's closing, and you have exactly five minutes to get back to your Houses. Off now!"
They scrambled madly to shove their books into their bags, then ran for the door, holding hands. By the time they left, their running steps and laughter echoed through the library, deserted except for Madam Pince and the pale figure who passed through a shelf of books to stand at the librarian's side.
"Good evening, Madam Librarian," the Fat Friar saluted Madam Pince. "Watching over the two lovebirds, are we? Ah, the innocent pleasures of the flesh; forevermore denied me, alas."
Madam Pince dabbed at the corner of her eye with a very large lace-trimmed handkerchief. "Does my heart good to see them. Makes me think history is repeating itself."
"Ah, you mean James Potter and his lovely Lily."
She nodded. "They found such happiness within these walls, only to find such horror beyond them."
* *
On the morning of 1 February, when Harry went into the Great Hall for breakfast, he noticed Dumbledore sitting at the head table. He had been there only once or twice since Christmas, and looked slightly more tired than he did back then.
Dumbledore seemed to read Harry's mind, as he had so often in the past, as he rose to address the school:
"I'm sure you've heard rumours of this before now, but details have been worked out, and I can now report that the International Student Quidditch matches will be held here this spring. Hogwarts will be represented by a team drawn from all of the Houses; a committee under the direction of Madam Hooch will be making that selection. Meanwhile, I would like to announce that the following schools will be sending teams to compete: Ayers Rock Wizarding School, Australia; Blue Crystal Mountain Retreat, of Monterey, California, the United States; Durmstrang of Bulgaria, a name which should be familiar from last year; and finally Kesshin Maho Gakuin, of Niigata Prefecture, Japan. Representatives of those schools will be here at Hogwarts in about a fortnight to finalize the arrangements. They'll be staying in the castle and dining here in the Great Hall. I expect that we will all show them the courtesy and friendliness befitting the Hogwarts name."
* *
"You've talked to him, haven't you?" Harry asked that evening in the library.
"Not exactly talked. I mean, he's half a world away. And every time I mention it in an owl, he never responds. My folks haven't told me how he feels, either, and I'm sure they keep more in touch with him than I do."
"Well, what am I supposed to do? I mean, what if he's going to be here?"
"Harry, please, this may seem hard, but do nothing. I need to see him first, face to face, to get an idea of what he's thinking. It's been so long since I have. Besides, he may not even be coming."
* *
But he was.
The representatives of the other wizarding schools arrived late on a Thursday, and spent all of the next day in conference with Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hooch and other faculty members. At dinner on Friday night, the representatives sat at the head table.
Before the meal, Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. "I'm sure that many of you wish that you had a chance to speak with your fellows from other schools. Tonight I shall become the djinni in the lamp and grant your wish. Desserts will not be served at the end of dinner but an hour later, during a social gathering where you can meet these four gentlemen. Please don't wear them out, though, because they have to leave early tomorrow morning."
The students certainly did want to speak with the visitors. Durmstrang was represented by Viktor Krum, last year's Durmstrang Champion in the Tournament. The rumour was that, even though he had attacked Cedric Diggory, he was not charged with a crime, since he was under the influence of the Imperius Curse. But he was too old to still be a student, Harry thought.
The witches seemed torn between two of the other visitors. The Australian school was represented by an Aboriginal student, whose coal-black skin was offset by his pale yellow hair and blood-red robes. Harry overheard one of the Gryffindor girls whisper to another that this student was "drop-dead gorgeous".
The same description, and the attention that went with it, seemed to apply to the American visitor. His sandy red hair was cut short and in an asymmetrical pattern. He had a square jaw, blue eyes and the kind of good looks that reminded Harry of Cedric Diggory.
This made Harry focus all the more on the remaining visitor. He seemed maybe a year older than Harry; a rather ordinary Asian lad: black hair thick but cut short, a white shirt and tie under his robes, which were sand- colored with pale blue calligraphy that kept scrolling from one phrase to another.
Harry couldn't help it. He kept looking back at Cho at the Ravenclaw table, trying to get her reaction. But she kept up a conversation with others on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Perhaps she was trying to avoid looking at the head table.
When dinner was over, the tables started levitating, rearranging themselves for the social hour. As the students left the Great Hall, Harry made his way to Cho and pulled her toward a side corridor.
Cho spoke up first. "Before you ask, no, I haven't had a chance to talk with him yet." She paused. "Or maybe I had the chance, but I just can't do it."
"What do you mean, can't?"
"He's still my oldest friend, Harry. We grew up together; he's practically a brother. I just want to find some way not to hurt his feelings."
"You're not having second thoughts about this, are you?"
"Are you saying you don't believe me??"
"No, not at all. But we'd talked about this for so long, and you said you'd speak with him..."
"And I will. Just not right now. And don't you speak to him yet either. I can't help it; I'm nervous about all this now."
So was Harry, but he didn't want to admit it. He simply said, "I'll see you later." Then he went up to Gryffindor to change into a better set of robes.
He took a very long time about it. For the first time in months, he saw an obstacle in the way of living happily ever after with Cho; he'd never even considered the possibility of someone or something stopping them from being together. Now, that obstacle started to loom larger and larger.
When he finally went down to the social, it was already underway. The Great Hall's levitating candles were mounted on miniature brooms that circled in the air above the students, giving the hall a festive look. Harry, though, was feeling anything but festive.
The largest knot of students stood close to the door, trying to talk to Viktor Krum. Ron was trying the hardest to get next to Viktor, who was finishing a sentence: "...so new headmaster asked me to join Durmstrang faculty as flight instructor."
"I thought sure you'd turn professional," Ron said, before any other student could say anything. "The Vultures must be loonies not to take you!" Ron was referring to Bulgaria's national Quidditch team, the Vrasta Vultures.
"Confidentially, I thought so too. But Vulture captain vanted me to vait a year for, how do you say, flavoring?"
"Seasoning." That was Hermione, who Harry had just noticed was standing very close to Viktor and listening very attentively. She waved: "Hello, Harry."
Viktor reached a very large hand toward Harry, who shook it as best he could. "Is good to see you again, Harry. Vill you be playing in championship?"
"That's up to the school. We've got some really good Seekers at the moment; I might get passed over."
"Listen to him, now," Seamus Finnegan interrupted. "Bein' all modest because of his lady love."
Viktor's face clouded over. "You are Seeker too, Hermy-o-ninny?"
Everyone burst out laughing. In spite of Hermione's well-deserved reputation for academic excellence, there were still some things she could not do. One of them was flying. She avoided brooms if she could help it. The idea of Hermione playing Quidditch was especially funny.
Hermione bit her lip. "I'll explain it all later, Viktor."
Harry decided to get some punch and cake, excused himself and went to the table. On the way he passed the Australian representative; his nametag announced him as Bruce Agnawolla. Some of the girls literally fluttered around him, trying to start conversations. But Bruce for some reason wouldn't be drawn out. He simply listened politely but silently and nodded at whoever was speaking. As Harry passed, though, Bruce looked at him searchingly, then solemnly nodded his head and went back to listening to the twittering of the girls around him. It was as if he knew...something.
The American was holding forth at another group. Like Viktor, he looked a bit too old for school. According to his nametag, he was "Chad"; just "Chad". "Yeah, actually, I'm as surprised we made the cut as you are. I mean, we all expected Salem to win it. But a few bad referee calls and some rough weather and, well, here we are."
"What do you study there?" one Hufflepuff witch asked.
"Well, I major in magical enforcement; the Auror track. There's lots of job opportunities, even if it's crap like doing security at Muggle casinos. Still, it's a start."
Chad wore his robes and his shirt half-open, and Professor McGonagall was clearly insulted that so much of his tanned chest was on display, as were the hairs on his chest and the zodiac medallion he wore. "I trust your academy's dress code isn't quite so casual," she sniffed.
"Ma'am, we don't hardly wear robes. Some classes, we don't wear anything at all."
All his listeners fell silent. It took McGonagall a minute to find her voice. "Do you mean to say..."
Chad just nodded. "Of course, that's just the classes we teach while soakin' in the hot springs. Relaxes the students, and they absorb a lot more of the lessons that way."
The faces of his listeners were now several different shades of scarlet. Harry quickly walked back to the punch bowl for a refill. He downed it in one gulp, took a deep breath, and turned to find Andrew.
He was at the far end of the hall. A number of students simply stood there, watching the calligraphy scroll across his floor-length robes. Colin Creevey was asking a question in that slow, loud voice people use when speaking to a foreigner: "What city do you come from?"
Andy looked at him for a minute with a steady, unnerving gaze, then broke into a wide smile. "West End, mate," he drawled in an elaborate Cockney accent; "Oo are you when you're at 'ome?"
Everyone laughed, including red-faced Colin. "My folks sent me to Japan," Andy went on, "wanted me to pick up several different styles."
Parvati Patil pointed to the name of his school, Kesshin Maho Gakuin, on his nametag. "What does that mean?"
"Gakuin just means school, and maho is magic. Kesshin, that's the tricky bit. It means to do something totally, with your whole spirit. Get it?" The other listeners nodded.
Harry was standing there the whole time, trying not to say anything. Don't speak to him, Cho had said, don't speak to him...
"Well, Hogwarts seems a bit like KMG," Andy was saying, answering another question. "Of course, it's hours to get there by rail from Tokyo, same as here. Only our school is tucked up in the mountains; the Japanese Alps, they call 'em. The skiing's just fab."
...don't speak to him, don't speak...
"Nah, there's only a few things different in that school. The Chinese arts, of course; I doubt this school teaches I Ching, geomancy, feng shui or any of that lot. Then there's ninjitsu, the art of the ninja, which has acrobatics and potions mixed in with actual magic. Seems a bit like cheating, if you ask me."
...she said don't talk to him about it, so don't...
"I'll tell you right now, though, that the girls over there are the big difference. And I know what I'm talking about; I've sampled my fair share of the goods, if you catch my meaning."
What?!
"Age is the key to it; they're very respectful to you even if you're only a year older. So you get yourself an underclass girl and you're all set. If we were at a dig like this in Japan, I could tell a girl to go get me some more cake and she'd hop right to it. Some of them are also pretty generous in dishing out the crumpets, if you get my meaning."
"A lot of, of THAT goes on, then?" one young wizard asked, his face turning scarlet.
"Probably a bit more than it does here, I'd expect. They're a lot less inhibited, the Japs are. Besides, we're up in the mountains, and it can get rather cold at night."
...He's making this all up; he's just trying to impress them...
"I've broken a few hearts along the way, I guess, but, the way I see it, who would they report it to? Most of the professors have a little bit going on the side. It's a pretty good country all-around, if you know how to work it right."
Just then, Dumbledore called for attention. "I'm afraid that I have to call a halt to the festivities. Our guests need to retire to their rooms. Thank you all for an entertaining and, I trust, informative evening."
Damned right it was informative, Harry thought. He stared at Andy Tan's back as he sauntered through the Great Hall toward his rooms.
Suddenly, it was as if Harry's mind went blank. He found he was a spectator to his own life, watching some stranger named Harry Potter run across the hall, through the door and into the foyer, where Tan was crossing toward the East Tower.
"CHO DOESN"T LOVE YOU!"
Harry hadn't realized at first that he'd yelled that out. He simply noticed that everyone had stopped moving and speaking, and were staring at him. Tan stopped in his tracks, turned and walked slowly back to Harry. In a soft voice, he asked, "You talking to me, mate?"
Harry kept his voice and his emotions in as much control as he could; he felt as if he would explode any second. "Cho doesn't love you. She loves me. And I love her. Get used to that, mate."
Tan, who was almost a head taller, looked impassively at Harry. "You're Harry Potter, then. When I was a kid, I always wanted to meet you. Not in these circumstances, of course. Well, now you're in my appointment book."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Gotta shove off for Japan soon. But when I come back, we're on for a wizard's duel. You and me; no seconds; one survivor. Get used to THAT, mate." He turned away from Harry and walked off.
...to be continued...
