Disclaimer:I do NOT own Harry Potter or Eyeshield 21 or any of the affiliated characters. What I do own is a kick ass Ash Ketchum hat, a freezer full of fudge pops, and a collection of gold medal winning maple syrup. None of which will appear in this story.

Warnings:OC's, some OOC, Het, Slash, AU, fluff, language

A/N: I just need to get this out. I finally had a weekend off work and other adult responsibilities, so I told myself I was finally going to finish this chapter. I cleaned off my desk, I bogged myself down with 3 extra large mugs of tea and got to work. Tea helps me relax and concentrate, but it also goes through me so fast. Every time I got a decent idea I suddenly really had to pee. But I'm also wearing an animal onesie with buttons down the front that are a pain in the rear to undo. So I was basically wrestling with myself every 30 mins trying to get this thing off and not pee myself as I ran to the bathroom. Did I stop drinking tea? No. Did I change out of my very soft and comfy onesie? No. I am my own worst enemy.

The Twenty-first Tackle

Harry held Dean's hand as he dragged him into Professor McGonagall's office. His friend was being an idiot, and didn't trust Harry that he knew what he was doing. If he learned one thing this year it was that teachers were actually helpful. Sure there was that time in first year where McGonagall didn't believe him about the stone, and second year where Lockhart tried to get him eaten by the basilisk, and just Snape in general… but other than that, teachers had been a huge help- especially McGonagall since the stone incident.

"Dean just talk to her!" He huffed out as he struggled to move his friend. It was hard pulling someone taller and heavier than you.

"Mr. Potter, is there a reason you are man handling Mr. Thomas into my office without knocking?" McGonagall's voice cut through the room.

That was a very valid question. He probably should have knocked, but he felt that had he wasted those few precious seconds, Dean would have escaped. She did not know the amount of effort he already put into getting the boy here. If she did, she would understand why he couldn't knock and possibly let Dean escape!

"Professor, we need your help." Might as well get to the meat of it. They were here for one, two… possibly three reasons.

"What assistance do you require, Mr. Potter, Mr. Thomas?" McGonagall slowly lowered her glasses to peer at them.

Harry pushed, more like lightly nudged, Dean towards a chair. "We need help contacting a man by the name Kingsley Shacklebolt. He works for the ministry in the Auror department. He looks like Hagrid's dark skinned hairless brother." That was pretty much all he remembered of the man. But he was confident that because they had the same last name, the man must be related to Dean's father in some way.

McGonagall sent him an amused look. "I am acquainted with Mr. Shacklebolt. While I do not believe he will appreciate the comparison between his looks and Hagrid's, I do see where you are coming from. Why do you need to talk to Mr. Shacklebolt?"

Harry looked at Dean hoping that his friend would take over from here. Only it was pointless as Dean looked frozen solid in his chair. Well, it was left to Harry then. "I believe that Mr. Shacklebolt will have information regarding Dene Shacklebolt, our Dean's father."

McGonagall cleared her throat. She looked startled yet sad. "And how did you come to this conclusion?" She asked.

Dean was still imitating a statue, so he continued. "Dean told me about his father and how he disappeared before he was born. His mother believes he must have been a wizard. We started researching but he seems he gave Dean's mom a fake name since we've searched through a lot of books and records, and haven't found him anywhere." Seeing a stern look developing on her face, Harry rushed to finish before McGonagall threw him out for wasting her time. "I ran into Professor Lupin a couple days ago and he had his old year book. I asked to see my parents and when he was flipping through I saw Dene! Not our Dean, it was Dene Shacklebolt but they look so much the same! I took the book to Dean, our Dean, and asked if this was his father and he said it looks just like the picture his mom has of him. So, we need to meet Mr. Shacklebolt so we can find Dene Shacklebolt."

Phew. Glad he got through that.

"I see…" McGonagall looked away from him and focussed solely on Dean. "Mr. Thomas, I am saddened to have to deliver such news."

Oh, he did not like where this was going.

"I never had the fortune to get to know Dene as well as I knew his older brother Kingsley. Kingsley was a Gryffindor and Dene a Ravenclaw. He was a good student, he excelled in many classes, but as mine was not one of his favourite's, I didn't have the opportunity to know him as well as I could have. He was as courageous and brave as his brother and I fear that led him astray." McGonagall paused for a moment to gather her thoughts.

"During the war, Kingsley was accelerating through the Auror ranks quickly, becoming quite the renowned fighter. Dene often wanted to be like his brother but his talents lent more to books than physical combat. He was turned away from the Auror program, being found to not possess the mental strength they were looking for. After that, he signed on to join a vigilante group fighting against the Dark Lord. He worked hard and volunteered for the most dangerous missions in order to help. He was a great asset to them. Unfortunately, it brought negative attention on him. For months he was hiding in the muggle world, using little to no magic as to not be discovered. But one day, Kingsley was on a mission. He was injured severely and taken by Death Eaters bent on torturing him for information, and later killing him in front of their master. Dene learned of this and rushed to get his brother out of there."

Harry could see where this was going. He scooted closer to his friend, grabbing his hand in support. The adults in his life didn't often talk of the war. It was a terrifying time full of fear and sadness, and even now, when a decade had past, he could see McGonagall struggling to talk. The only other time she was in such a state was when she was talking about his parents and how they died.

"Only two people know what happened that night, but Kingsley made it out and Dene did not. Kingsley has never opened up about the incident but he says he will never meet someone as brave as his brother was that night. I'm so sad and sorry to have to tell you this. I wish I could have delivered better news."

Dean gripped his hand tightly, his hand shaking. "So he's really dead? I mean, I had a feeling and my mum always told me she knew he was gone… but… its true." His friend was blank. No emotion. Just staring off to the side in thought.

"Mr. Thomas, how are you feeling? Can I do anything for you?" McGonagall asked in a soft tone.

Dean came back to life then. He looked at McGonagall finally and tried to smile. "Sad… relieved and good? It's all so weird and very confusing. My mum, she never knew what happened but she accepted it and moved on. I think I always thought it would remain a mystery, sometimes I would wonder but it never affected my life. There would be long stretches of time where I didn't care about him. I didn't care why he left because I love my dad so much but… now… I know he was a person. A very real and very brave person who clearly loved his brother very much and I really hope he loved my mom just as much cause he seems like he was a good guy."

The tears started then. Dean didn't even seem to know they were there but Harry saw them. Getting out of his seat, Harry wrapped his arms around his friend for a second time. He hated that his friend had to go through something like this.

He could remember how he felt, growing up and thinking his parents were drunks that got killed. His aunt made sure he didn't have the best impression of them. Dean's mom tried to not put down his father, but when the man was acting weird leading up to his disappearance, it was hard not to think the man ran away and abandoned them. When he found out his parents were heroes, that they died protecting him. He was relieved, but incredibly sad. Now Dean was suffering through the same thing. How are you supposed to respond to a situation like this?

You love your parents for being heroes, but you don't know if its enough love, because you never knew them. You know they loved you but you've never felt it. He didn't have anything to compare with. At least Dean had a mother he loved and who loved him so he knows what a parent's love feels like. You love them, but you hate them a little for leaving you. Then you feel guilty for that little bit of hate, but you can't apologize because they aren't here.

McGonagall got up quietly and left the office to give them some time.

Harry just held Dean. He didn't try to comfort him with words. He just let his friend cry himself out.

"He would have been a great dad, right?" Dean asked weakly, his face still buried in Harry's stomach.

It was a tough question. "I think he would have. He sounds like my dad, and McGonagall told me that James Potter loved me very much. Your dad sounded very caring and I don't think he would have ever made you feel unloved." A man willing to fight a group of Death Eaters alone to save someone he loved, sounded like a very great man.

"Growing up… I sometimes hoped he was a bad man. I wanted him to be a drug user, or a thief who got locked up, just so I could convince myself that mum and I were better off with out him."

Harry rubbed circles on Dean's back, hopefully soothing the distraught boy. "He didn't leave you and your mother by choice. I can't imagine that anyone would leave you and your mom by choice. He was a good man, an amazing man, and he loved you both."

Dean held him tighter. "I need to tell my mum. She deserves to know all this."

"We'll see if McGonagall will let you go home to speak to her."

"I want to meet Kingsley. I think I would like to know what my Uncle is like."

"We can make that happen."

Dean laughed lightly. He pulled away slightly and looked up at him. "And we should get you a new shirt. This one is soaked."

Harry smiled. Dean was sad, but he was coming back to his usual self. He felt bad for dragging him here and making him experience all this. But Harry knew that Dean needed these answers. He hoped that Kingsley was friendlier than when they met.

"I don't think I will catch a cold with just this so it should be fine for now."

They sat in silence for a couple more minutes before McGonagall returned. When she did, Harry slowly unwrapped his arms. Dean wasn't crying anymore but he was still melancholy.

"Alright boys, this is what I can do. I already contacted Kingsley. I haven't told him anything but if you want, I can explain the situation. Or, I can let you explain it to him. He is currently waiting in Professor Flitwick's office, which would you prefer?"

Harry didn't say anything. Dean needed to make this choice himself.

"I want to meet him but… could you tell him?" Dean asked.

McGonagall had a soft look on her face. "Of course, I can. I will be back in in a couple minutes."

The silence stretched between them while they waited. Harry reached over and held Dean's hand again. He would help his friend through this.

o.O.o

Takeru huffed and puffed slightly as he walked off the field. Teikoku was having a practice game against another school that Takeru didn't care to know the name of, and he was hoping that next time defense hit the field he could have a break. He was running hard today, and while he had great stamina, he was running hard.

"I didn't think this team would be able to give you a challenge." Taka said as he approached the bench.

"It's not the team. It's our men on the line who can't hold a single offense player back that I have to work overtime," Takeru shot back. The linemen would be doing some extra special training when they got back to their school. They were usually better than this, but for some reason they were off today.

"They are fine," Taka countered. "You are too aggressive today."

"Maybe." He needed to relax. He had been on edge lately thinking about his brother. He didn't like this waiting game. His plan to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for his brother to find was frustrating. It was all up to chance and luck that Harry would even see anything, and he just wished he had waited one more month before coming back to Japan.

"Should I practice against you?" Takeru shot Taka a considering look. "I am sturdier than the other team, and they are ready to fall over."

He should really stop taking his anger out through football. Maybe he should take up boxing. A heavy bag would be able to take his hits, and not complain. Plus, he wouldn't be told to stop when he's destroyed the boys he's playing against.

"What is his full name?" Taka's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"Who?"

"You're brother. What is his full name?"

"Harry Potter. Why?" takeru wasn't sure where his teammate was going with this.

Taka sighed. "You should write him a letter."

Takeru snorted as he put his helmet on. "What good would that do?"

"Might help the anger. And you may get the chance to send it some day."

He was surprised that Taka knew what was on his mind. He had thought after their initial conversation that he had forgot about his brother. But, what he said, it sounded nice in theory. He wasn't sure if it would be enough though. Also, he wasn't sure if he could probably express what he was thinking and feeling in writing. He may would consider it though, because he honestly couldn't keep hurting others.

Anything to help settle his emotions would be great.

Running onto the field, Takeru couldn't help but think if he was to write a letter, the first sentence would be about how much he misses his brother. He hadn't seen him in years, but he never forgot the feeling of being an older brother. The second would let Harry know that he never stopped thinking about him. The third would be to ask what the hell Harry was doing running around the world on his own, looking for him? He would need to give Harry a stern talking to about how to be safe.

When the Offense took their stance, Takeru snapped his attention back to the field.

Game now, the letter later.

o.O.o

Hooch scared him. She was a great flying coach and woman, but… she had insane ideas. Hooch wanted him to fall off his broom. Fall off his broom, and hit the ground. She wanted him, to willingly fall off his broom, with the intention to hit the ground. The very hard, unforgiving, ground. Harry has hit the ground before. His track record for landing, even in practice, wasn't the best. He knows what hitting the ground feels like. Painful.

Hooch tried to explain, but Harry still really hadn't understood past hitting the ground. "Potter, I'm not trying to hurt you, but this is something you need to learn. This exercise isn't about the impact, it's about the fall. We've talked about how your signature move is your dives. This is leading up to a dive that you will only be able to do once, maybe twice in your Hogwarts career, and only a handful of times when you go professional."

She wanted him to hit the firm ground on which he was standing. It hadn't rained lately. There was no spring or bounce to the soil.

"I am going to have you free fall to the ground and try to remount your broom. We will start at 10 feet, then move up from there. I need you to get over any fear you have with falling and hitting the ground."

Then they would be doing this forever because how does someone not get scared when they are about to faceplant the ground? "Is that even possible?" He asked.

"Hopefully, because you will be my first student to try this," Hooch said confidently.

"What?" That wasn't reassuring. This sounds like something that should have been tested beforehand. Like in a room full of the worlds softest fluffiest pillows to ensure no one got hurt.

"There will be cushioning charms on the field so you don't get too hurt."

That was more reassuring. "Okay… but why?" There had to be a good reason for this.

"Potter, you have a reputation. You fall off your broom more than any other seeker I have ever seen."

That was a little unfair. "I haven't fallen off that much!" Harry protested. Hooch had seen a lot of seekers in her time. She was like 50 or something. She sees a new seeker every year, at least and not all of them could have been the best flyers. Plus, some of those seekers she has seen for 6 years. Someone was bound to have fallen more than him in that time.

"Potter, First year, your first game. How did you catch the snitch?"

"I accidently swallowed it," he answered.

"Then…" Hooch prompted.

"Then I fell off my broom," he admitted. "But I didn't fall off during my second game!" He pointed out. He did a good job that game. He caught the snitch in record time, and ended the game on his feet.

"No, but you also missed the final game so your success rate for staying on your broom is only 50 percent for your first year. Now second year, first game, how did you catch the snitch?"

"I surfed on my broom then lost my balance as I caught the snitch, falling off." But he looked really cool doing all that with a broken arm. At least, that's what Seamus said.

"The rest of the games were cancelled before your second match, so you have zero percent success rate staying on your broom for your second year." Things weren't looking good for him at the moment. "This year, first match, how did it go?"

"First game I fell off my broom when the Dementors showed up… and the second game I stayed on. So 50 percent?" He hoped this wasn't a pattern. He would hate to miss the final game of the season this year. Not to mention have quidditch cancelled next year. That would be terrible!

"Right now, the next time you mount up for your next game, you have a 60 percent chance of falling off your broom." Hooch explained. "Which is why we are doing this. With this kind of reputation, it will be believable if you fall off your broom, to catch the snitch."

He still didn't' get it. "I still don't get it," he admitted.

He got a heavy sigh in return. "Think of it this way. Unlike the Wronksi Feint which is meant to lure your opponent into following you, this is the opposite. You don't want them to chase you. If you see the snitch low to the ground, you can position yourself over it, fall, and catch it without the other seeker even knowing."

"But I will hit the ground and get hurt, won't I?"

"No. Before you hit, you will remount your broom and be safe. You did something early this year that inspired me. Your first game, just before you blacked out, you hooked your feet around your broom to keep connected to it when you threw yourself forward. What we need to do, is find a way to use that so that your broom doesn't fly away from you when you fall. If we make it look like your foot got tangled as you fell, no one will be the wiser until you remount and win the game."

"Okay, I think I understand." If he was honest with himself, he did have a reputation of falling. He hoped to one day not have McGonagall threaten him to stay on his broom, but that dream was now gone. If Hooch thought this was the best for him, he would listen. Plus, he really loves dives and this felt like it would be the best and most mischievous dive ever. If there was one way for a seeker to bring pranks into quidditch, this was probably way. "This is going to hurt a lot but I want to nail The Potter."

Hooch gave him an amused look. "The Potter?"

"What they are going to name this dive when I pull it off," he explained. If he was going to throw himself off his broom, they better name this after him. Hopefully, they will include a disclaimer though. He rather not have seekers every where harming themselves trying to replicate it.

"I see. We have lots to work on so mount your broom," Hooch commanded.

What followed was pain, pain, and more pain. Since this was the first time either of them had attempted something like this there was lots of details to work out. They discovered that 10 feet simply wasn't high enough to work out how to hook the broom and remount. Harry needed more air, to have more time to work it out.

They kicked it up to 30 feet, strengthened the cushioning charms, and tried again. Falling was not the problem. Honestly, he fell so often that it wasn't even that scary anymore. The idea was scarier than the action.

Landing, Harry placed his broom on the ground and stepped back. He needed to really think on this. The problem was, his broom bristles were so smooth that his boots just slipped off. He couldn't catch a good grip, unless he held on to his broom with his hand. But the point was to have his hands free to catch the snitch and to trick the other team into thinking he lost all control. Having a hand on his broom wouldn't instill that shock they were looking for.

"How's the shoulder Potter?" Hooch asked him as she landed next to him.

"Sore…" he admitted. When he reached up to grab the handle with his left hand, his right shoulder always hit the ground first. Even with the cushioning charm, it still hurt. "I need to catch my broom somewhere besides the bristles," Harry pointed out.

"We don't have to figure it out today. You've done incredibly well today, Potter. I thought I you would still be working through the fear of falling, but you didn't even flinch once since you mounted your broom. "

Harry blinked. He didn't really think about being scared. "I really wanted to get this down," he admitted. He had the chance to have a quidditch move named after him, of course he would only focus on that!

"We will come back to this at your next lesson. For now, get to the hospital wing. I want to see a signed note at dinner from Madam Pomfrey saying you visited her!"

Looking back at his broom, Harry really wanted to get this down. "Can we work on this just a little longer? I have a free period next, and dinner isn't for awhile so I will have plenty of time to visit Madam Pomfrey."

He knew before he even finished asking that he would get a no. Hooch didn't look happy. "Potter, you're already sore, I will not have you pushing yourself too hard. We don't have a time limit on this. We have the rest of the year, and all way up until you graduate to get this. We will work on this a little each week, but it's not something we have to have perfected next week."

"I know. I just feel like… like I'm close to something. Close to getting it," Harry tried to explain.

"Sometimes its best to sleep on a problem. If you force it, then it won't ever come. Just relax the rest of the night Potter, and next lesson we will see if anything comes to you."

Nodding his head, Harry thanked Hooch and grabbed his broom. He would think on it, and hopefully something would come to him. He liked the idea, the plan, and he really wanted something named after him.

Trudging to Pomfrey, he hoped to get this mastered soon.

o.O.o

Takeru sat down with a pen and a stack of paper. He thought it over, and although it sounded kind of silly… he was going to write his brother. Hopefully, it would help his anger issues and help him gain control over his emotions.

Harry,

I miss you. Even though we only spent a year together, and I don't remember much, I miss you. I love you, and even after all this time, I remember the feeling of wanting to protect you. I never want you to doubt that I love you. I have never stopped thinking about you, and never stopped wanting to see you again.

I got adopted. They are great parents. They support me in everything I want to pursue, and I like to think, that our parents would have been exactly the same. They may be too supportive. When my current school came to recruit me, they let me move to Japan, supporting me in my choice to further my football career. When I heard you went to Notre Dame to see me, I wished they hadn't let me come here. If they denied me this, I could have seen you sooner. But I know it's not their fault. They are wonderful. It was my own choices that brought me here.

They say that everything happens for a reason. I hope that is true, and that the reason is really good, because I miss you and I want to see you as soon as possible. I want my little brother back. I want to see you and talk to you and make sure that you hare the happiest kid in the world because that is my responsibility as your older brother.

Are you okay? Do you like school? Do you play sports? What are your friends like? I wish I could ask you these questions in person. I also wish I didn't have to ask them. I wish I could have been beside you your whole life and have you come tell me these things on your own. If we were together, I could have taught you how to throw a football. I could help with your homework, and tease you over your first girlfriend.

We can't return to the past, so I hope that in the future, I will get the chance to learn all these things about you.

I have always loved you Harry, and I to be able to tell you that soon.

Thornley.

He sat back and closed his eyes, hoping the tears wouldn't fall. He thought writing this would help him, but it just made him feel raw. It did help. He felt his resolve to connect with his brother grow. Tomorrow he would call the newspaper and issue his challenge to the fake Eyeshield 21. Then he would figure out where his relatives lived and mail this letter to Harry. He wasn't going to passive about this anymore. He would do everything he could to make sure his brother knew where to find him.

o.O.o

Fun Football Fact

There have been 217 sets of fathers and sons to play in the NFL.