Rated for language, violence, and mild sexual references.
Disclaimer: If you recognize any names, terms, or concepts, that's because they are not mine.
CHAPTER 3 - Occupation and Opposition
It was about a half hour walk to the Kame Game Shop, the route paralleling the way Harry took to reach Burger World. He estimated it would be about a fifteen-minute walk to the shop from his apartment, which was just about a perfect mix of light exercise and convenience. Assuming he got the job, of course. And he really hoped he did; it would be terribly embarrassing to be refused a job in front of all these people.
For all that it was apparently a well-known and prominent shop, Kame Game was rather small and homey inside, with wooden floors and cluttered shelves lining the walls. There was a glass-enclosed counter just to the left of the entrance, behind which was a door that simply read "STAFF." A few more display cases and stands filled the floor space. Standing at the counter was a very short, square old man with Yugi's eyes and hairstyle, bleached of color. He gave a warm smile upon seeing his grandson enter with his friends, and looked curiously at Harry. The group all offered the old man greetings, and Harry noticed that they all called him some form of 'grandfather.'
"Hey Grandpa," Yugi started. "Guess what? I think I found you an employee! This is Potter Harry, he just moved to Domino a few days ago. He definitely won't be annoying; he's not really familiar enough with gaming to recognize the more recognizable gamers."
"Hmm, you're sure about that, Yugi? I really wouldn't want a repeat of the last time…" the elder Mutou mused, as they continued to talk over a slightly peeved Harry's head.
"Ha, no worries, Gramps," Jounouchi laughed. "Yesterday me and Honda met up with Harry, Ryou and Bakura at Burger World and I asked 'im if he dueled, and you know what he said?"
"He asked what duel monsters were!" Honda finished grandly. Mutou-san broke out laughing, huge, heaving, belly laughs that would have been jolly had they not been directed at Harry's blunder. He blushed and scowled, waited for the old man to stop laughing before he stepped forward to introduce himself and explain his situation.
"Well, Potter-san," Mutou hummed, stroking thoughtfully at his beard with a playful look in his youthful eyes, "it seems we might be able to help each other out! How about I give you a quick tour, explain some of your duties, and we can see about drawing up a work schedule and payment plan."
Harry grinned and nodded, pleased that he had been able to land a job so quickly and easily, despite the laughter and jokes at his expense. Oh well, he sighed. If I'm going to be working in a game shop, I should probably learn how to laugh a bit more, even if it's at myself.
The others smiled and offered congratulations before dispersing through the store while Harry followed the old man, who quickly asked to be called Sugoroku. A bit strange, really, that these people are so quick to let me use their given names, Harry thought. Guess those culture lessons about polite forms of address were dated, or something. Harry continued poking about the shop, examining the various games and game paraphernalia scattered around. Just as he was about to follow Sugoroku into the back stock room, Ryou drew his attention, and told him that he had a few errands to run and would be leaving now.
"But it's alright, Harry-san," Ryou continued cheerfully. "Bakura is planning to stick around for a while longer, so he can show you back to the apartment later!" The pale boy promptly left, either blissfully oblivious to or blatantly disregarding Harry's suddenly disgruntled expression.
Forty-five minutes later found Harry walking along beside Bakura, hands in pockets, shoulders up to his ears, looking anywhere but at the strange, tall man beside him whose mercurial character continued to evade him, for all that he had seemed to impress him and the others with that profile. Bakura seemed entirely unbothered by the situation and by Harry's awkward body language. Frustrated by the man who kept flipping hot and cold, Harry took a deep breath, tried to relax his shoulders, and decided to attempt to draw him into conversation.
"Bet you're not too happy about all that," Harry said. Bakura actually turned to him with a vaguely questioning expression. Harry counted that a success.
"The game shop, I mean. You didn't seem to think I deserved to work there," he clarified.
Bakura shrugged, turning away again. "I don't care, it's not my income at stake. The Mutou's have always been too charitable. I wasn't particularly surprised." His eyes cut over to Harry suddenly, contemplative. "At least you're better than the last fool to work there."
"Why's that? Besides my being an ignorant boob, of course," Harry scowled at the end, still the slightest bit sore over the teasing. The alternate mocking and adulation he had received at the hands of the wizarding world, rather than giving him a thick skin, had just made him more aware of implied slights.
Bakura just shrugged again, and muttered something under his breath that sounded to Harry like "better view." Harry told himself he must have misheard, and sighed, disappointed but not particularly surprised by the end of the conversation. He had hoped the conversation might progress a bit until Harry could say what he really wanted to. They continued on in silence, through the streets, into the apartment lobby, up the elevator, and down the hall. Bakura pulled out his keys and had his door half open by the time Harry had mustered the courage to speak up again.
"Bakura, wait," Harry called out before he could lose his nerve. The man turned to him, looking exasperated. "I just – um. Thanks, for earlier I mean. On the way to the shop," he finished quietly, wanting desperately to look away, but as curious as he had been earlier with Ryou to see the effect of his words.
Bakura averted his gaze, turned his face back to the door with a deep scowl. He opened his mouth, closed it again. When he finally spoke up, Harry was more than a little confused.
"You're too pale already. Didn't need to see you get so pasty before." Bakura spoke harshly, derisively, tone completely at odds with his words and avoidant body language. He didn't wait for a response, just shouldered his way into his apartment and slammed to door shut.
Harry stood there for a moment, utterly bewildered. He shook his head, and stepped into his own apartment.
Harry woke up the next morning earlier than was strictly necessary. His shift at Kame Game Shop didn't start until 8:30, a good two hours from now. He contemplated just staying bed. Mmph. Should probably shower, put on something nice for my first day… He hefted himself up and padded into the bathroom, turning on the shower and just standing there muzzily for a few minutes, letting the hot water wake him up. He stepped out some time later, his early awakening giving him time to luxuriate in the warmth.
Harry wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror and examined his appearance for a moment. Molly and Kreacher would say I'm too skinny, he thought, noting the way his ribs were rather too prominent. His torso was only minimally defined, mostly from using his abs help direct his broom. Seekers tended not to build as much muscle as other players, with the exception of the killer thighs and calves that came from holding tight to brooms flying about at more than 100 miles per hour.
His skin was flushed from the shower, but he knew it was normally quite pale, almost unhealthily so under his clothes. The faintness of color made his numerous, distinct scars show starkly. He eyed the perfectly oval mark over his sternum where Slytherin's Locket had been sliced off, and the lightning bolt above his heart that matched the one on his forehead. On his right arm were the marks of both the Basilisk's and Nagini's bites, and on the left were the slice from Pettigrew's knife and the gouge where the Hungarian Horntail had caught him with her tail. Dolores Umbridge's Blood Quill had left permanent writing scarred into his hand, and though he couldn't see it at the moment, he knew there was an Acromantula bite mark on his leg, which had been vicious enough to break the bone, from the Triwizard Tournament. He fingers tightened on the sink as his eyes followed the life history carved in pain across his skin, before turning away to finish dressing and brush his teeth.
Making his way of the bathroom and casting an absent-minded shaving charm, Harry noted that he had copious time to enjoy a good breakfast. He settled on preparing a full English breakfast, and let himself get lost in the routine until it was time to leave.
Harry stepped into the hallway at 8:00 and froze for a moment, startled to find it already occupied. Ryou was standing at his own door, about to walk in, but had apparently frozen the same as Harry had upon discovering someone else in the hall. Harry started to greet him, but Ryou's wide, panicked eyes – like a niffler caught digging in a purse – prompted him to scrutinize the pale-haired man. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the other man was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and appeared to have a faint red blotch on the underside of his jaw. Harry snickered instead.
"Wow, Ryou-san. Must have some errands that kept you out all night," he smirked, relishing the flinch he received. Ryou blushed furiously, his eyes darting side to side rapidly as though a distraction would miraculously emerge from the beige stucco walls or the green, flower-patterned carpet.
"Er-I-Um. Harry-san, I j-just, you know, um…Er, good morning! Have a great day!" he cried through his stutters and disappeared through into the apartment. Harry snickered again, pleased to have gotten a little innocent revenge on the man who had abandoned him the previous day to his strange cousin. He turned and continued down to the elevator, and just before the doors closed, he could have sworn he heard a sharp, insane cackle ring through the corridor.
Harry arrived at the shop with time to spare and genially returned Sugoroku's cheerful greeting. He nodded as the man directed him to the storeroom to unpack some stock that had come in the previous evening and settled in to work for a few uninterrupted hours. The mindless work let his mind wander, and he let his thoughts touch briefly upon the Bakura cousins. He snickered as he thought again of catching and teasing Ryou after what appeared to have been a rather scandalous night, but his mind shied away from thoughts of the taller cousin, still confused by his comment the previous afternoon.
His thoughts turned instead to his best friends and his godson, and wondered how they had been doing in the week since he had last seen them. I need to invest in a mail bird, he thought, fervently pushing down thoughts of his beloved Hedwig. Wonder what's popular in Magical Japan? I'll have to take visit Tokyo's magical sector soon, need to buy some birthday presents anyway… His thoughts continued in this manner until a voice startled him into awareness. He turned his head to regard Sugoroku, who had just called his name.
"Come have some lunch, Harry-san, you've been hard at work for hours. There's a few new faces about, too, for you to meet," the man finished with a smile. Harry contemplated briefly whether his aversion to new company outweighed his hunger, and found there was absolutely no contest.
"Coming, Sugoroku-san!" Harry stood up and brushed the dust from his knees. He followed the old man into the main room and out of shop into the house adjacent to it. Immediately, he was assailed with the delicious aroma of stir-fry. He tracked the scent into the kitchen, where four people were seated around a table. He recognized Yugi, who smiled and waving in greeting, prompting the others to turn and regard him.
The first person to catch his notice was the Yugi clone. The man's hair was very nearly identical to Yugi's, as was his fashion sense, if accessorized with more leather and gold jewelry. Upon closer inspection, however, the similarities were not that great. The man was taller than Yugi, and had dark golden skin. His face was more angular to Yugi's round one, and his eyes were narrower and red. His greeting smile was smaller, more reserved; his bearing was almost arrogant.
"You must be the new employee Yugi and Grandfather were telling me about. I am Mutou Atem. Potter Harry, correct?" His voice was quite deep and smooth, Harry noticed, his words almost painfully articulated.
"Yeah, that's me," Harry responded. "It's good to meet you, Yugi mentioned you yesterday." He turned to face the other two in the kitchen. The woman spoke first. She was tall and elegant, with dark skin, long black hair, and calm blue eyes. She had a faint smile about her regal face and introduced herself as Ishtar Isis, an associate of the Mutou family.
"And this is my younger brother," she continued, gesturing to the final man in the room. He was young like Harry and the rest of the people he'd met recently (Sugoroku excepted). His skin was dark like his sister's, Atem's, and Bakura's, and his shoulder-length hair was a striking platinum blond. His mischievous eyes were lavender, made even more apparent by the kohl that lined them. He wore more gold than Atem. He grinned at Harry, and offered a quick 'Afternoon!' before returning to his meal. At Sugoroku's urging, Harry grabbed one of the last chairs and accepted the plate handed to him.
"So, Harry-san," Atem spoke between bites. "I hear that you are unfamiliar with the game of Duel Monsters?"
"You guys are never gonna let that go, are you?" He directed the muttered question Yugi's way, who only grinned and shrugged, faux-apologetically. "Yeah," he spoke up, towards Atem this time. "I was never really up on new developments growing up. I went to a boarding school in Scotland that didn't have much in the way of technology. Only news we got was in letters from parents. It's been a bit of a culture shock since I graduated, really," Harry answered, hoping it was a suitable – and believable – response.
"Heh, I know how that is," Marik grinned. "It's pretty amazing though, isn't it? To see all kinds of things you never had any idea existed."
"My brothers and I were raised in a rather remote area of Egypt," Isis clarified. "We had little understanding of the outside world when we first moved."
"But it's cool you went to a boarding school, Harry-san," Yugi chirped. "It must have been great to get to know everyone you lived with! I bet you made a lot of friends."
I can count my friends on my fingers, Harry thought amusedly, but outwardly responded with, "Yeah, I guess. It was a pretty exclusive school though, so there weren't too many of us, really. Only about a thousand students across all seven years. I only got in because my parents went there."
"Speaking of your parents, Harry-san," Sugoroku cut in, "are you not living with them? You're quite young to be striking out own your own so far away from home."
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. He had been dreading questions into his family and living status, but was a little surprised it had taken someone this long to ask.
"Er. My parents passed away," he answered as shortly as possible. He hoped they would take it to mean his parents had died recently, so they wouldn't ask questions about the rest of his family. He had no desire to mention the Dursleys, even in vague terms. Necessary though the bluntness was, he still regretted it when he saw the way Yugi wilted, and Marik winced. He tried not to see Sugoroku and Isis' sympathetic expressions.
"My condolences, Harry-san," Atem murmured solemnly. Harry nodded, and decided to change to subject to distract them.
"So, about Duel Monsters…" It wasn't the most elegant move, but it certainly did the trick as Yugi perked up and began chattering about the game. They all took turns trying to describe the rules of the game around mouthfuls of vegetable stir-fry and continued the explanation past lunch and into his shift at the shop, following him around as he took inventory.
Several hours later, near the end of his shift, found Harry still taking inventory, but with a different set of duelists. Atem, Marik, and Isis had left shortly after lunch, needing to return to the museum at which they all worked, and had been replaced by Ryou and Jounouchi, both of whom were students and had apparently finished classes for the day.
Harry padded around the shop, listening with half an ear as Yugi and Jounouchi chattered about Duel Monsters, taking inventory, familiarizing himself with the merchandise, and being interrupted by the occasional customer. He bent down to move a board game back in line with its fellows, when Yugi broke off his conversation with Jou to address him.
"Hey, Harry-san, what are you wearing around your neck?" he asked curiously, eyeing the thin gold chain that had been unveiled when he had leaned down.
"Oh, it's a, er, family heirloom," Harry said uncomfortably. He hesitated, before pulling it up out of his shirt. He held up the cracked black stone for their inspection.
"It looks quite old. Is that your family coat of arms?" Ryou wondered, leaning forward and brushing a finger against the mark of the Deathly Hallows.
"Not for mine. This family's name died out centuries ago, became the Potters and probably a couple others," Harry said, trying to hide his perturbation as he pulled the Resurrection Stone away from Ryou's curious touch. He would have much preferred if no one had ever discovered any of the three legendary objects he could not help but carry on his person at all times. After the Battle of Hogwarts almost three years ago, Harry had slept for almost a full straight day, and when he had awoken, all three Hallows had been sitting innocently beside him in bed. He'd been confused and scared, distinctly remembering tossing the Stone away in the Forbidden Forest, returning the Wand to Dumbledore's cold hands in his tomb, and stowing the Cloak away in his trunk. Since then, all attempts to be rid of the objects had failed spectacularly; they always returned to him, no matter how he tried to hide them or throw them away. Eventually resigned to their presence, he opted to ignore the objects themselves, as well as the faint whispers that brushed against his mind and the shadowy flickers that danced on the edge of his vision from time to time.
"Huh. 'S pretty sweet you can trace your family back that far," Jou said, eyeing the stone with his head tilted to the side. Harry just shrugged, hid the necklace back inside his shirt, and turned back to keep working, effectively cutting off further questions. Jou and Yugi didn't seem bothered, simply picking back up with their debate, but Ryou kept watching him for a moment, his eyes piercing, a strange expression on his face. He eventually let himself be distracted by Jou and Yugi's chatter, and Harry desperately hoped that was the end of it.
Harry's days continued to pass in a similar way, although with blessedly fewer difficult questions. He kept working with Sugoroku, kept avoiding working the cash register whenever possible, kept learning about the games in the store. Three weeks after he had moved to Domino, he found the time and disposition to take a weekend train into Tokyo's magical district, Maho-Chome, to do a bit of shopping and to check in with the Ministry for any assignments.
Unlike the British Ministry, the Japanese one had opted to split its departments among buildings. A large skyscraper housed the legislative, judicial, and law enforcement divisions, as well as the Minister's offices. The windows were liberally covered in Notice-Me-Not and Muggle Repelling charms, as well as a thick layer of Glamour. It was, naturally, far larger on the inside than the outside implied. Thirty full courtrooms crowded the basement, and the upper levels contained the entirety of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as well as the departments of Magical Education, Magical Transportation Administration, International Magical Relations, and Muggle Relations (the latter of which was entirely dedicated to covering up breaches of the Statute of Secrecy). The various other administrative departments were housed in a large, single-level underground complex that sprawled beneath twenty-seven Tokyo city blocks, accessed through the basements of several dozen small, undercover, wizard-owned shops around the city.
It was a necessary evil for Harry to visit the Ministry. Despite working predominantly at home, he was still required to check in once a month. The fear of being recognized made the trip grate on his nerves terribly, made a spot between his shoulders itch with the feeling that he was being watched. He likely was, but there was also a good chance he would not be recognized here in Japan, which was the only saving grace of the expedition.
It was not common knowledge that Harry Potter had transferred to the Japanese Department of Magical Law Enforcement; only his direct superiors – the respective Head Aurors – and the Ministers were aware of his new job. It also helped that Voldemort had never been an immediate concern for the Japanese wizards. His threat had been half a world away, and the plight of the British had elicited feelings of pity and horror, rather than of dread and impending doom. Never having experienced the same fear, they had not felt the same degree relief as the British upon the Dark Lord's demise, and thus were never quite as interested in the 'Savior,' Harry Potter. Harry's status here was more akin to famous foreign Quidditch player than to some legendary hero. His face and name had graced far fewer newspapers, so it was relatively safe to assume that as long as his infamous scar was covered, he would not be noticed with anything more than potential, vague recognition.
Still, he wasn't willing to dawdle and risk it. He bustled his way into the building and up the strange, winged lift, shoulders hitched up to his ears, back hunched, face directed at the ground, trying to make himself smaller and less noticeable. He made his was into the Auror Office, where he received two simple cases to work to help clear out a backlog in the JDMLE, with instructions to return them by the end of the month. Harry conceded easily, nodding a terse goodbye to the department director, his boss and Head Auror Awashima Ebisu.
He stepped out of the back door of the Ministry directly onto the unfortunately busy main street of Maho-Chome and resolved to stick to the shadows and side streets as much as possible. He slunk through the streets, scoping out the best shops for potential gift buying, and picked up a few rolls of parchment at a stationary shop and some sweets at the magical confectioner. He couldn't help but slink into the Quidditch Supply shop to check out new broomsticks, and it was there he found Teddy's birthday present – a child's training broom, just like the one Sirius had gotten him as a toddler. He smiled, thinking of that happy picture he'd found years ago, and gave the clerk the address to post the broom to, along with a brief note to Andromeda.
He stepped back out, a considerable weight off his shoulders, and continued exploring the street. He passed by the bank, but opted not to try his luck opening an account. Goblins worked the Japanese banks as well, apparently, and the Goblin Nation had yet to forgive Harry for breaking into Gringotts three years ago. He had been allowed to remove his assets from his vault with the concession that if he ever stepped inside Gringotts again, they would 'slit his throat and string his entrails about the marble pillars.' He was really quite fortunate they had allowed him that much; they were apparently as grateful as was possible for Goblins to be that he had killed the wizard who had slaughtered an entire room full of their kin – which was to say, not very much.
He shuddered a bit and picked up his pace to get out of sight of the bank and its vicious looking Goblin guards. He finally located the magical pet store and stepped inside to inspect their variety of delivery birds. Hm, looks like they prefer to use falcons here, he thought, eyeing the sleek, sharp-beaked raptors perched around the walls. His attention was immediately drawn to a large gyrfalcon near the back. He contemplated getting a closer look, but the pale, snowy feathers just made his heart clench thinking of Hedwig. He eventually settled on a friendly young female Merlin falcon, which had seemed to perk up and squirm with excitement when she saw him. He walked out with her on his shoulder and Apparated directly into his apartment after, eager and desperate to get away from the crowd.
Once home, he immediately set about writing letters to Ron, Hermione, and Andromeda, filling them in on his work, home, and new acquaintances. Now that he was settled in, he wrote, they were all free and welcome to visit whenever they chose. He had even purchased a railed bed and toys for Teddy, and a pullout couch for whoever was lacking a bed.
He tied the letters to the jittery Merlin, whom he had decided to call Em, short for the wizard Merlin's Welsh second name, Emrys. She seemed less than impressed with what he had thought was a rather clever pun, when he explained it to her.
"Hope I'm not asking too much of you on your first flight for me," he murmured to the small gray and white bird, securing the letters with a bit of supple twine. "Britain's a long way off, after all." She seemed to puff up with a mixture of affront and pride, and shot off through his open window with a screech before he could apologize for doubting her. He shrugged, and turned his attention to the first of the two criminal case files.
The next day found Harry back at work at Kame Game Shop. He could find no excuse not work the cash register, unfortunately, as no new merchandise had come in over the weekend to catalogue, so he resigned himself to standing behind the counter and helping the customers with their purchases while Sugoroku was set up in the back filling out tax and order forms.
Harry stifled a bored yawn from behind the counter, lazily eyeing the few customers who had sauntered in early that morning. They were quiet, at least, Harry contemplated, watching them poke around the display of handheld game cartridges that he had organized last week.
The bell above the door jingled, signaling another customer and Harry watched, bemused, as the man jumped, seeming startled by the noise. He glanced around, stared at Harry for a moment, before moving further in and stepping out of sight behind a shelf. Harry's bemusement had melted immediately into caution edging on panic upon seeing the man more clearly. His clothes were decidedly odd – a t-shirt and tie paired with pinstriped slacks tucked into cowboy boots – but Harry knew that even without the visual confirmation of the man's magical nature, he would have been put on his guard anyway. The man's eyes had flicked briefly to Harry's fringe-covered forehead in the brief moment he had stared at him before turning quickly and sauntering behind the shelf, too-casually and with stiff shoulders.
Precisely two minutes later, another wizard, stockier than the first, had entered, wearing a suit coat and cargo shorts. He too couldn't resist a brief, hard stare at Harry before retreating behind the same shelf as the first one. Five more minutes passed before a third wizard entered, in duck-print pajama pants and a leather jacket. Harry knew better than to judge a wizard's deadliness by their level of comfort and familiarity with Muggle-wear, and had become increasingly nervous with the entrance of each. He gulped silently, already feeling adrenaline begin to rush, and cast a silent locking spell on the stock room door to seal Sugoroku away from the potential danger.
Harry kept his eyes glued to the clock, counting down the minutes. Five, six, seven minutes passed before the normal, Muggle customers brought their purchases to him at the counter. He ignored their attempts at small talk, eager to usher them out the door. His eyes flicked back to the clock. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…
Thirty excruciating seconds passed before he heard a floorboard squeak and he threw himself down to the ground behind the counter, successfully dodging a fast-moving yellow curse that left an ugly singe on the wall behind him. Bone-Breaking Curse, he noted. These guys are playing for keeps.
He peeked up slightly over the counter, holly wand poised, Stupefy on his lips. His spell just barely missed Leather Jacket, his accuracy thrown by having to dodge the Strangulation Hex Suit Coat tossed his way. He knew he couldn't remain behind the counter; a simple wooden barrier was hardly a defensible location in a wizards' battle, never mind that it would be too easy to be blocked in by his three opponents.
He cast a silent Homenum Revelio to get a feel for their locations and, deeming it momentarily safe to move, rolled out from behind the counter. He was just in time, too, for scarcely half a second had passed when the counter exploded from T-Shirt's Bombarda. A quick shield charm protected him from the shrapnel on one side, but left the other side open to Leather Jacket's petrifaction spell. He felt it graze his arm, shouted a finite incantatem before it could take hold, and rolled yet again, this time behind a shelf where he scrambled to his feet.
Harry could hear Sugoroku pounding on the door, calling out for him, asking what was wrong, but Harry had to ignore him as Suit Coat sent a bulging, neon orange curse his way. He flicked it away with his wand, and glimpsed from the corner of his eye that it liquefied the floor where it hit. Hemorrhaging Curse, Harry noted. He cursed them in his mind for using such destructive spells in the shop. He wished they were elsewhere so could return similar fire; he couldn't chance the integrity of the building with Sugoroku still locked in the back room. Casting another quick Homenum Revelio, he directed an overpowered Waddiwasi at a game console and made it fly around the corner of the shelf to knock T-Shirt in the temple with enough force to punch a hole in a wall. He crumpled immediately to the ground and lay unmoving.
Leather Jacket let out a startled exclamation, but Suit Coat just sent a Blood-Freezing Curse in the general direction Harry's spell had revealed him to be. It missed by several feet, but Harry moved anyway. This time, when Leather Jacket sent a Confringo at the shelf, Harry was unable to conjure a shield in time to prevent a bit of flaming shrapnel from scoring a line across his cheek. A nonverbal Levicorpus hitched Leather Jacket up to the ceiling, then dropped him to the ground. The brief shock was enough distraction for Harry to catch him with a Stupefy-Petrificus Totalus-Incarcerous chain combo.
Only Suit Coat was left, Harry thought, clamping down on the vaguely smug acknowledgment that he had managed to bring down two out of three opponents in a small crowded building while avoiding using any destructive spells. He shifted to dodge a pale green curse when the wall on his right suddenly exploded, the percussive, fiery blast pushing him back into the path of the spell. He felt the curse tear through his clothes, sink into his skin, begin to eat away at him. He heard a wet, visceral blistering sound, and barely had time to see the flesh of his side and abdomen corroding away when the pain caught up to him and he collapsed, gasping. Amazonian Flesh-Eating Curse, he thought dazedly, recognizing the distinct burn pattern and the strange minty scent from a dusty Black library text. He tried to recall the exact counter-curse for the rare variant, and failed.
He forced his thoughts away from the pain to take stock of his surroundings – to check Suit Coat's position, and to see what the hell had caused the explosion. And then Harry knew he was hallucinating, knew the pain of curse was affecting his mind, when he saw the massive form of Curse of Dragon – a duel monster card he had been introduced to the previous week – flying through the remains of the stock room door, Sugoroku following closely at its tail.
The dragon shot forward, ramming its head into Suit Coat's chest with a sickening crunch, and then took his limp body into its massive jaws. Sugoroku shuffled up to it and patted its head. He looked down at the crumpled form and sighed despondently before dismissing the dragon, causing it to fade away along with the lifeless body of Suit Coat. The old man turned then to Harry, but the stern question on his face immediately melted into an expression of pure, ashen horror. He rushed over, began speaking, but Harry was beyond comprehension by that point. He barely had the presence of mind to take hold of the Elder Wand. He couldn't remember the proper counter-curse, but maybe an overpowered finite incantatem from the most powerful wand in history would do the trick. It worked, he noted hazily, as the progression of the corrosion up his chest and around his back halted, before shadow claimed his vision.