The wind up was always the toughest part for me. Too many nerves, you know?

So I just I grabbed the sides of the table, and stared straight ahead.

She rotated, and lined her hand up. Once back, a golf tee-up, the palm, and swing! She slapped hard, the muscles in her arms coiling and winding it straight into my jaw.

Harry Potter, boy-who-lived, boy wonder, in his schoolyard days he would've crumpled like tissue paper under that slap.

But Harry wasn't small anymore.

Genrikh lifted.

The slap followed through, it flowed off my face, it was nothing to me right now, I could easily handle 5 more rounds. I gave a quick thumbs up to the judge, and another to my competitor, Fenya. The crowd was ecstatic, an actual challenge! It was a good slap, but not enough.

Fenya grinned, she was ready.

In the crowded warehouses of industrial Yakutsk, we were far enough away from the city that people didn't give a single shit about people's genders, as long as you could take a hit. And Fenya could, she'd been running the whole city ragged for competitors for months. A good battle, with plenty of betting, would be profitable for her and the organizers, who could always count on Fenya to get underdog odds. Didn't matter if she'd been slapping everyone in Yakutsk silly, gamblers were stupid. But tonight, Fenya was the favorite.

Tonight she faced a foreigner. Genrikh was new in town, anybody could tell that. The half-assed name, the accent on his Russian, and worst of all, the shorts. What moron wears shorts in Northern Russia? Russia is where the Germans marched to die, the winters here have blunted Hitler's own forces, and this moron wears shorts?

Genrikh was a foreigner, he didn't give a shit, and Yakutsk had been sure he couldn't take a hit.

Fenya's first slap proved them wrong. Genrikh wasn't terribly muscled, he wasn't a gym freak, but he had some mass, and most of all he was tall. Somewhere above 200 centimeters, with long arms that were bound to hit like a pair of whips.

Despite that, he took Fenya's hit, and they hoped she could take his just as well.

I followed the same routine as Fenya. I lined up with her cheek, reeled back, and swung.

Clean hit, no foul, right on the cheek, she stumbled, then fell backwards. Somebody in the audience caught her, and as the medics rushed over, I knew she wasn't getting back up for another round.

The first few boos were from poor gamblers. But the young, the broke, the starved for entertainment, they cheered loud enough to drown them out. The foreigner in his dumb shorts knocked Fenya off her throne, and Yakutsk had its circus for the night.

"Come back in a couple months, yes? We don't need a dark horse, we're sticking with Fenya, but a boogeyman, a grudge match, it's all good for us." The man's smile was greedy, but frank. He handed over the money happily, knowing the house had made out well on this one. But upsets led to one-sided betting, and that wasn't good for anyone. Better to let people forget for a while.

I didn't mind, I had interests to the southeast. Yakutsk was a convenient stop for some easy money. Large enough to pay out, small enough to not get too much attention.

I grunted, grabbed the money, shoved it into an envelope and left the warehouse, the brusk way, as Russian customs recommend.

Yakutsk in the winter, though, was brutal, By 11 PM, temperatures had plummeted. In the industrial district, this late, there were very few lights. The moon was full just yesterday, however, and its light reflected off of the thick snow that had piled onto the streets.

I didn't mind the cold, really. It made me feel alive, and the chill numbed the pain from Fenya's only hit. I touched my jaw, just to feel it for myself, I grunted, shook my face out, and started walking.

I had a room downtown, for one more night, but it was far, and I didn't feel like apparating for some reason. Call it intuition, superstition, whatever, but the winter here was deep and proud. To earn Yakutsk's respect I had to take Fenya's slap, to earn the winter's, I think I need to face it head-on. That, or I was just too lazy.

The winter was beautiful anyways.

He let himself get drawn into patience with the crunch of snow under every step.

As I passed another street, a high voice called out to me.

"Yo, slap man!" It was a woman, leaning over an old car packed with teens, the classic combination. She leaned down towards the driver-side, "No, no, I'll be fine, go on, I'll call you tomorrow". She shoved off from the car.

"Hey, wait up slap man!" She hurried across the street and to the sidewalk, likely due to the cold rather than a fear of cars. The city was wide open, besides the one with her friends in it, which lingered for a minute, then drove off.

I turned, and cocked my head to the side in askance, as she jogged over.

"Slap man, that was sick! Fenya's tough, and you got her down in one slap, that was crazy! "

"Oh. Uh, thanks."

"Huh, you look younger up close. Lada." she extended her hand.

I took it, "I'm Genrikh."

"You're supposed to shake it, Genrikh the slap man, but that's alright you're new around here." she didn't remove her hand from mine, and I could feel how warm her hand was beneath her mittens, "Say, you hungry?"

I was a bit flustered, but I was also pretty hungry, for company and for food, "Starved, you got somewhere good to eat?"

"Yeah, I'll show you, come on!" She pulled him by the hand. "So, you just in Yakutsk to slap some people, Genrikh the slap man?"

I followed, hungry and pretty sure she meant me no harm. Reasonably sure, at least, "Honestly, yeah. I'm heading out to the sea, and yours is the biggest town before I reach it, figured I could make some money here before I go."

"Okhotsk? You going sailing on our frigid seas?"

"Down to Japan."

"Ah, you're a traveler then, Genrikh the Globetrotting slap man!"

"Hah, basically. I've gotten good at it, and it's never boring."

"With hands like yours, no way!"

Flustered again, damn she's smooth. "Ah, well, thanks. So, what are you doing out here, Lada?"

"Oh, you know, visiting friends, seeing morons slap each other for money, just taking in the Yakutsk charm."

"Not from around here either, then?"

"I grew up just outside of town, but I moved east to study."

"St. Petersburg?"

"Ha, good guess! Yes, yes, a beautiful city, but it's not home yet."

While at first, Lada had been tugging him along, now we walked comfortably side by side on the narrow sidewalk. I couldn't see her face very clearly, yet, but I could see messy dark hair, short, that seemed to frame her face nicely. She would look at me when I talked, and there was a small smile on her lips as she caught me staring from the corner of her eye. She was shortish, enough so that I could see the glint of two thin necklaces on the back of her neck.

She tugged me again, this time across the street towards a stout building on the very corner, its glass windows lit up with neon signs all across it, advertising beer, hot food, and the best knish in the city! It one of two buildings on the street with lights still on.

Lada pulled open the door and dragged me inside before I could let the cold in. She started rapidly pulling her coat off, and as the heat of the diner set in I did the same. She made a bee-line towards the back.

It was small inside, with only 9 or 10 tables inside. I followed Lada towards a u-shaped booth covered in green upholstsery, with two plastic menus already set out. "Yo, Vasili, coffee, yeah?" she yelled towards the back, then turned towards me, "You want one?"

"Yeah, alright," I agreed, sliding in towards one of the menus.

"Two coffees, Vasili!" she shouted once again, then slid into the booth next to me, and leaned close to read the menu.

"Oh, yeah, the knishes, best in the city for sure, the soup's shit though. He just throws in whatever, it's nonsense." she denounced, close enough I could feel the warmth of her breath. She was even cuter in the harsh fluorescent light of the diner. Under her coat she had been wearing a tight striped sweater, and tight, faded jeans. Her legs were big for a student, she probably worked out, and they were pressed right up against his underneath the table. She had plenty of room as well. She was probably a year or so older than me, but I couldn't really tell. She had piercings on her eyebrows, her ears, her nose, on her lip, and I could just see the ends of a black tattoo on each arm, near where her sweater met her hands.

I was distracted from my, well, ogling, by a single word at the very bottom of the menu. Sushi.

Not yellowtail, not abalone, not uni, not maguro, just sushi. No price listed either. I wasn't sure if it was even supposed to be there, except there it was.

"Hmm, that's new." Lada muttered, clearly staring at the sushi as well.

"Yeah, didn't expect sushi."

"Well, he'd been experimenting with it for a while, just didn't expect he'd finally put it on the menu."

"What, the sushi?"

"You're a bit slow, Genrikh the Globetrotting slap man", she giggled. "Yes, Vasili is a… worldly cook. He's a slap man, like you."

Ah. That made sense. Slap men, the experienced ones, we were stupid sons of bitches. You'd have to be to make your living where winning requires constant pain. But the good ones, we tended to be the most free in our thinking, and in our work. Maybe if your brain gets hit enough it finally breaks free of your skull.

And, there was Vasili. I'd never seen him before, but a man that big, that wide, could be the only one in this building named Vasili. He carried three coffees in one hand, dropping one off at a table near the window, and bringing the other two over to us. He had a big, full, Russian beard that obscured much of his face while his baseball cap obscured much of the rest. But his eyes were steady, and locked right onto me.

He approached our table, set down the two coffees, and looked at Lada. And grinned.

"Lada! Ah, how's my favorite nephew!"

She stood up quickly and gave him a hug, her face only coming up to the middle of his beard. "Good uncle, very good!" she sat down just as quickly and scooted right back into my side. I felt a bit uncomfortable with her uncle right there, his eyes once more upon me, but hey, when in Russia.

"This man, he got Fenya in one round, over at Dima's ring!"

His gaze didn't change, he already knew he was a fellow slap man, but there did seem to be an ounce more of respect.

"Oh, back in town and already watching more tournaments? Yeesh, so bloodthirsty." He pulled up a nearby chair, and though he dwarfed it, it somehow still supported his weight. He turned towards me. "Fenya's a good kid, too much synthol, but a strong competitor."

I nodded, "She hits hard."

"Hrumph. Not hard enough, I suppose, for some moron in shorts to take it."

"Ha! He's a moron, but he has good strong legs, I can see why he likes to show them off," Lada giggled at her uncle.

"I'm sure you do, Lada. Food?"

"Anything spicy today?"

"Hrmph."

"I'll take the knishes, then. You're good at them. Genrikh?"

I'm not quite sure what made me order it. Maybe it was because Vasili was like me, maybe it was because Lada's legs felt especially nice next to mine, maybe it was because it was close to midnight in late December in Yakutsk, but I wanted to try it.

"Sushi."

"Hmph. 20 minutes." Vasili left, pushing the chair back, and striding back to the kitchen faster than his size suggested he could.

Lada turned towards me and smiled brightly. She leaned in close, pulling herself up to my face, and past to my ear. I could feel her pressed up against me, soft and warm.

"Can I try one?" she whispered.

I gulped. It wasn't a very suggestive question, but she made sharing Russian diner sushi sound seductive. All I could do was nod.

She kissed my cheek, and sat back down, smiling. She grabbed my hand again and pulled it to her.

I smiled too. This was nice.

Traveling in Russia has been, frankly, boring. It was large, freezing, and lonely. Some people were friendly, most were not, most were content just by themselves and didn't need some foreigner messing around in their lands. And I understood that, and would pass through those lands quickly. The cities were more welcoming than the country, but could be cruel in different ways. They had more amenities, but more costs, and schedules, and bureaucracy. But here, in Yakutsk, this diner was just a diner. And Lada was among the more friendly welcomes he'd received. I had just met her, and yet I felt comfortable right now.

"So, Genrikh. How long are you staying?" She was playing with my hand now, exploring it with her own, running her fingers across it in all sorts of distracting ways.

"Ah, well. I'm not sure yet. I have to reach Japan by summer, but until then… my time is my own."

She hummed in acknowledgement, and kept playing with my hand.

It had been a long 6 years. Since Hogwarts, since England, since, well… magic. Since he had last felt like an actual wizard. Somewhere, halfway through Russia he'd accepted it. Magic didn't feel magical anymore. I didn't feel magical anymore. It had started gradually, ever since that last battle, but it had happened. He didn't feel like picking up his wand somedays. What he could get done in seconds with magic, he just went the long way around. He walked, or took the tube when he was in London, and he'd learned to drive when the city felt too stifling. He drank water from the tap, he never conjured it. And after a while, he just stopped thinking about it. Magic didn't feel magical, even among his friends, it felt like paltry cantrips and little ways to speed up your life. It cut out too much of the day, it left me empty. It didn't make me happy. So I left.

"I get that. It's hard falling out of love with something," said Lada.

I nodded and sipped my coffee. Wait... "Wait, what the fuck?" said Harry.

"I didn't want to interrupt you, it sounded important. You have a lot on your mind, slap man," Lada shrugged.

"I… can you read minds?"

"No, you dumbass, you were speaking out loud."

"Oh."

She giggled, and leaned into me.

I… oh shit, I'm thinking now, right? Not divulging insane secrets? Shit, phew, but christ, I can't believe I just talked about magic out loud, like hell, but wait, she doesn't seem to think she's crazy. Unless she's crazy too? Or she's magical too? I mean her uncle could be part giant, but she doesn't seem the sort…

"No, I've never done magic, but I've heard lots of stories!"

"Ok, seriously, can you read minds? What the fuck."

"Ha! No, that would suck. I just guessed, you seemed panicked." she laughed at me. Again. "I've heard in Britain that they hide their magic. That it's a crime to talk about it. But, my great-uncle, he told me stories. About men and women who could do incredible things, unexplainable things, wondrous acts of creation or destruction. Magic was never something that I could do, it doesn't run in my family. But… who wouldn't want to believe in magic? So I did. And it seems you do too, Genrikh the Globetrotting, magic slap man.".

"I, well. I didn't even consider that it would be different in Russia. I didn't consider much, you know, when I left, I just sort of left. Do people… still like magic?" I asked. I didn't expect to talk about this, but this is the first open conversation about magic I've had since I left England. And even there, it was taken for granted so much conversations often felt lopsided.

"Oh people love it!" she was grinning now, staring at me with a flaring intensity. "The rich, they hate it, they fear what they can't control. But the poor, for us magic could be anywhere. Magic is opportunity, it's beauty, it's a new life!"

"The magic I've done, it isn't like that. At it's best, it's cheap, quick spells that dry your laundry, that wash your dishes. But it can be invasive too, spells that force your body into compliance, your will into dust. It causes pain with no effort, no thought for a conclusion, it's madness!"

She stared me down. "Bah! Of course it is, it's magic! But that's English magic. Now you're in Russia, and soon you'll be in Japan. What is magic in Japan, for that matter, what is magic in Russia?" She was right in my face, so close. "Have you seen its edges yet? Have you seen its peaks? Of course it's madness. That it's so bad in England is a tragedy. But in the end, that isn't because of magic, slap man! That's England."

I kissed her, and she kissed me back.

It was so, so stupidly obvious, and so far out of my reality, that it was England! Just bloody England, I hate magic because the only I know is bloody English magic! I… oh shit she's good with her tongue.

I leaned into her and let myself get carried away. It felt good to let go, it felt… magical. Funny, that I'd forgotten that a kiss could be magical too.

I pulled away for breath. Her eyes gradually opened, and she smiled at me.

"You're right. You're absolutely right, I just couldn't see it. I don't know why, I just couldn't see it, that it could be... more than I know! That it could be everywhere. I, I'd you."

"You're welcome, Genrikh."

We sat together, waiting for the food. I held her hand, and thought about magic for the first time in years, with a goofy grin scratched across my face.

I think it was just past midnight when Vasili came back with the food. Lada and I had been silent, but her hands had kept exploring mine, following lines and the small scars I'd picked up.

Vasili, if he knew, did not seem to care that I'd kissed his niece. Lucky that. He carried three dishes. A big bowl of fried knish, stuffed with potatoes, meat, and vegetables. A tray covered in fish, some sushi, some sashimi, and a healthy amount of ginger and wasabi in the very center. And another bowl, with two knish and a bunch of browned vegetables, carrots, yams, and of course, potatoes.

He put the bowl and the tray in front of me, and pulled up a chair again.

"Eat. Sushi must be eaten immediately. But anyone who fights Fenya needs a healthy diet. Eat your vegetables, Genrikh."

Honestly, I was touched. Maybe kind food could be magic too? "Thank you, Vasili." Not even considering the risk of Russian diner sushi, I started to eat.

And eat more. And more! Damn, this Russian diner sushi is fantastic! Oh shit, almost forgot.

"Here, salmon." I offered one of the pieces of sushi to Lada. There was mainly salmon and sturgeon, but there were tons of varieties of each, so much so that each piece tasted different. Some were fatty and melted in my mouth, some were refreshing and tasted of salt.

She ate it right from my hand, and I could feel her tongue on my fingers. Once again Vasili did not seem to care. Once again, I most definitely did.

"Mphrh, so good! Well done, uncle! It's so fresh-tasting."

"Aria caught them this afternoon."

"Oh, Aria's around? Have her come by tomorrow, I'd love to see her!"

Vasili just grunted, but seemed to agree. He looked at me.

"It's delicious. Really, truly, delicious. How did you learn?"

"I had good sushi, in Japan. I wanted my own, here. So I made it. Fresh fish, fresh rice."

I just nodded. Made sense. I kept on eating. The vegetables were delicious too, a mixture of sweet and savory. The knish were, truly, astounding. It was the best food I've had in Russia.

"That was the best food I've had in Russia." I said. Can't say anything but the truth today.

"Thank you. Have fun, little Lada, I'll see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes, uncle, thank you." Lada smiled at him warmly.

Vasili nodded, in acceptance and gratitude of his praise for this night, and stood up once again, and walked off into the back.

It was only after I was done eating that I realized how much I'd ate, How different this night feels. How full I am, on sushi and knish in a russian diner in Yakutsk, in December, round midnight, next to a wonderful woman I'd only just met. I think, this too, might be magic.

AN: I think I have a problem with starting stories and never finishing them, but I liked this idea a lot. I get to write about magic from a different perspective, and I get to write a story that doesn't strictly fall into the guidelines of the books. I like that, and I know where I want to go with the next chapter. If you've checked out my Sound and Fury story, I'm still working on the next chapter, but I'm debating retconning the first chapter before I do so. I started it so long ago, I put in some cringey shit in the first chapter that's pushing the story in the wrong direction. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's got a bit of character development, enough so that I can use the telling of Harry's past as a springboard for who Harry becomes, and the new adventures he creates for himself.