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Chapter Text

Harry refused to allow the appearance of the Malfoys to ruin his good mood as he, the Weasleys, Hermione along with Amos and Cedric Diggory made their way to the upper levels, unlike the seated placements of the Top Box, reserved for the more 'important wizards and witches.'

The stadium was a breathtakingly, modernized colosseum that hovered over the pitch like an intentionally unfinished dome, swarming with fans from all over the world to view the finals of the Quidditch World Cup. White flags with red circles clashed with tricolored — green, white, and orange — ones as brilliant lights lit the night for the game, spotlights swaying in apparent randomness.

Beside him, Cedric grinned crookedly as Harry could not help but reciprocate one back, the enthusiasm in the air was just overwhelming, the twins jeering loudly as they donned Irish fanfare. Then as if responding to the crowds' climax of cheer, arrived the Irish.

"It's the Irish!" Fred cried out, his enormous hat shaking violently as the teen pointed at the young men on brooms. "There's Troy!"

"And Mullet!" George could not allow his twin to take all the fun.

"And Moran!" And Fred would not be his twin if he did not respond.

The twins continued in their fanboying of the Irish Representative Team, as they made their entrance. Donned in their country's colors of green and white, consecutive tails of the colors followed the players as they flew past the crowd's roars, before sharply turning skyward. Splitting up, the smoke cleared as an array of fireworks appeared in the place of the players, forming a sparkly show of a dancing leprechaun, the official mascot. The crowd was now deafening as Harry found himself smiling with a grin that threatened to split his face, as chorused shouts echoed in his ears.

"Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!"

Flitting their way through the escalated crowd, the Irish team held themselves in a comfortable position in the air, basking the attention. Before Harry could join in the shouts, he was cut off by George, who met his twin's mirrored expression to which Harry could define as only admiration and respect.

"Here they come! The Generation of Miracles from Japan!"

And arrive, they did.

Silvery white smoke enveloped the once happily dancing leprechaun as a set fireworks in the form of fearsome dragons took it's place, each an individual color as the six players of the Japanese Team arrived, the crowd roaring in a shout once more.

In a mid-roar that bordered an arrogant swagger was the largest dragon, a navy blue with a tall and clearly muscled player on it's back, his smirk prominent on his tanned complexion. Beside him, was a golden dragon that appeared to leer in jovial amusement over the roaring crowd, basking in the attention as it's rider waved an enthusiastic hand. Followed as if to frown in disorder of his brethren's actions, an emerald dragon sniffed with an upturned snarl, it's rider perfectly mirroring his dragon as he glared through rectangular glasses. Adjacent to the emerald beast, loomed a violet brother of enormous size, just as large as the navy one; it's rider just as surprising in appearance as Harry could have sworn he saw the player snack on a bag of potato chips. Hovering over all of them, was a majestic ruby dragon, eyes all-knowing despite his small form, as his rider appeared unamused.

Harry could not help but notice several things.

They were young.

Appearing by the highest estimate to be his age, the Gryffindor Seeker noted this with startling observation. And that they only had five members. From what he was able to recall, seven members were required to play Quidditch. And also that each the players had hair matching their respective dragon. Weird.

Donned in white, black, and red robes of their respective positions; the team of five broke off, appearing to be riding on their respective dragons over the illusion of their brooms with a wave from the red-head; across the stadium as the crowds went wild, the colorful dragons setting the stadium alight in a rainbow of colors.

"Who are they?" Ginny shouted, as her twin older brothers looked at her incredulously, offended that they shared blood with one who did not possess such knowledge. In the shouting cheers of what Harry understood as a different language that he obviously did not speak, Fred and George shouted:

"They, sis, are the best Quidditch team of our generation!"

"The youngest team to hold the titles in the Champion's League and their national tournament for three consecutive years, they are known as the Generation of Miracles!"

And at their words, the five players gathered as their showy entrance of dragons faded, their postures rigid yet collected with an eagerness that Harry was able to relate to all too well. Adrenaline to get the game started.

But something else that he was unable to recognize. A crazed, almost cold glint in the eyes; as if they had an inkling of the results. But the game had yet to even start.

Harry felt a shiver dance over his spine. Did they somehow know?

"Good evening!" Cornelius Fudge, the British Minister of Magic greeted from the Top Box, his voice amplified by the wand by his throat. "As the Minister of Magic, it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the finals of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup! Let the match… Begin!"

And with the release of the Golden Snitch, the finals began.

Unknown to a majority of the encircled stadium, there was a sixth dragon as dark as the night as it's small form encircled his master comfortingly, wise sky blue orbs half-lidded as he watched his brothers bask in the attention; he, like his master, was content to watch his brethren bask in the light. Him in the shadows.

A thin smirk that could cut glass spread over Akashi Seijuurou's lips, his red locks dancing in the night wind as he spoke through a small light bluetooth, as the captain had assured all of his team was equipped with, his left eye glowing ominously. After all, his orders were absolute, regardless of their previous year's events of Kuroko's victory in the Winter Cup.  They were still effective and to be obeyed without question.

"Daiki, Ryota, Shintarou; continue to score goals until we have managed a suitable lead. Maintain with Plan A until the end and if needed, we will use Plan C. I will coordinate with each of you. Atsushi, Tetsuya will do the same for you."

"Very well." Midorima raised his glasses, hovering over the middle of the pitch before diving to avoid a Beater that smacked one of the opposing team's Chasers.

"Alrighty, Akashicchi~!" Kise nodded happily, as he flitted by the captain.

"Gotcha!" Aomine Daiki grinned wolfishly as he zig-zagged across the field, leaving the opposing team in the blur that was the fifteen-year-old.

"Daiki. Throw the Quaffle upward."

Coming to the goal posts, the almost misleadingly ebony, navy-blue ace smirked before throwing up the Quaffle; instead of the expected action to score, for the blonde to catch, smacking the ball into the center post while the opposing Keeper scowled at Aomine, who grinned with a hint of mock disapproval at the opponent to allow himself to be distracted.

With the Irish with the Quaffle, Akashi watched as Midorima and Kise followed with an alarming speed, flitting to surround the ginger player. Holding up his bat, the ruby haired captain nodded. With a sounding crack, the ace of the team smacked the Bludger to graze the opposing Chaser with the Quaffle, dropping it into the hands of Shintarou.

And with that, the score was now 260 to 100, in the Miracles' favor. All according to plan.

"Your left, Murasakibara-kun."

"Left, Kuro-chin?" The giant glanced at his right hand.

"The one that you use to hold chopsticks, you idiot." Midorima cut in as the other five of them could hear the pout in the purple giant's huff followed by the thud of said Bludger as it was knocked aside by the back of the broom; the roar of the crowd loud as Midorima shot another goal.

"That's mean, Mido-chin. Don't make me want to crush you too."

"It was intentional, you oaf. I told you, no snacking when we are on the pitch! Or the court for that matter!" The green haired sharpshooter growled as he ignored the look from the opposing team at his yelling, sure that their European opponents could not understand anyway.

And sure enough, the Keeper of the Japanese Team was munching on some maibou.

"Atsushi, I told you could eat only during the opening. Put the snacks away. You can resume your snacking after we win." Akashi scolded as the giant wizard complied after being assured that the captain would treat him to a new set of maibou after a disgruntled pout.

Knocking aside another Bludger to incapacitate another Beater, the captain turned his attention to another player as his opponent fell to the earth, unconcerned since he was merely thrown off his broom. It wouldn't kill him.

As if he would commit a murder in front of so many witnesses. That was just sloppy.

"Tetsuya, have you found the Snitch?"

"Yes, Akashi-kun." A sky-blue haired boy replied, perched higher than a majority of the players; his low presence allowing him to be completely hidden from spectators and other players alike. "I believe that we are in a suitable lead for us to win the World Cup. Although I would advise Akashi-kun to decide quickly. The other Seeker is near."

"Keh." Aomine scoffed as he dodged a Bludger in a Sloth Grip Roll, scowling as the opposing Chasers flew past him.

Akashi contemplated for a moment before replying in agreement with the shadow as Murasakibara blocked an attempt to the center goal post; their captain catching the rebound, Kuroko appearing to the visible world as he chased after a small golden ball, the opposing Seeker flitting after him before suddenly losing sight of the shadow.

And with a flit to the bare posts of the Irish after a pass to Shintarou, the moment the Quaffle was thrown in by their sharpshooter, the game was finished with a score of 410 - 100, the captain sat back as the events unfolded.

With the Generation of Miracles' and Japan's victory. Just as expected.

"Who was the Seeker?" Harry asked as they all settled in the expansive tent that was their temporary home, the twins obliging him. "Of the Japanese team?"

"Yeah, who was that bloke?" Ron piped up, his red locks long at his jaw like his brothers. "I didn't even see him until he caught the Snitch, and even then it was hard to find him. I thought there was only five members before I saw him chase the Snitch."

"Allow us to enlighten you, children." Fred waved dramatically as he seated himself beside his twin who wore matching grins. "To begin, we have to introduce you the Generation of Miracles, the rumored and — from what you have seen, deservingly — best Quidditch team of our generation."

"They consist, unusually, of five main players." George introduced. "Two Chasers, one Seeker, one Beater, and one Keeper. And despite the lack of numbers, the five of them managed to bypass the preliminaries of the World Cup with almost ease. Their sixth player is only added when the captain believes that it will be difficult for them to hold out with a disadvantage of only five players."

"And this sixth player is their Seeker?" Hermione blinked as the twins shook their heads in unison. "But I thought that the positions of Quidditch are set in specialization."

"Usually, dear Hermione." Fred nodded before shaking his head. "But in this case, it is entirely different.

You see, the six of them were specialized just like we are, but they also have another option as of the World Cup two years ago, — making them better than ever before —, of switching positions in any game they please. All of the players other than their Keeper and one of their Chasers have the capability of switching from offense to defense in any game they wish."

"But why make it such a complex plan and harder for your players?" Ginny cut in, clearly not seeing the point of such complex positioning.

"Quidditch is not all about catching the Snitch, but obtaining enough points to override the opposing team and then catching it. It is also a game of wills and other factors that allow a Chaser to bypass other Chasers, to have a Beater predict the movement of Bludgers away from his teammates, to have an impenetrable defense that is the Keeper that nulls the notion of what may happen if the Seeker is shut down." George explained in such a serious tone, that Harry accounted it to the twin's love for the sport. It was very serious business.

"And with their capabilities to spontaneously switching positions, the six of them are able to confuse their opponents with ease and at the same time, hold a suitable semblance of teamwork to which they are acutely aware of what and where the other is." Hermione nodded as she frowned. "But that can only be obtained from absolute trust in one another in the team."

"So, who are they exactly?" Ginny asked as she turned the topic back to the original question. "Like their names?"

"Well, to begin; the captain is Seijuurou Akashi, the red-headed Beater in the finals." Fred pronounced slowly for the others to not butcher the names of the team. "The Chaser with green hair is Shintarou Midorima, as the blonde one is Ryota Kise, and the final one is Daiki Aomine. The Keeper is Atsushi Murasakibara while the Seeker is…"

The twins blinked for a moment before grinning sheepishly.

"Um… what was it again… Georgie?"

"…Uh…"

The face-palm was well deserved.

Kuroko Tetsuya, a player with an unofficial position is both basketball and Quidditch, sneezed as Kise cooed over him, the blonde pulling a tissue from the box that happened to be Midorima's lucky item for the day, as the green-haired male was promptly ignored in his protests as the phantom was being hugged to death by the blonde.

Gathered in the main hall, they all lounged comfortably as they waited for their captain; Aomine outstretched on the floor, Midorima sealing the rest of his lucky item's insides — tissues — beside a munching Murasakibara, consuming his reward of maibou as Kise pouted after Kuroko ignored him, sipping his vanilla shake.

Now that the match was over, Kuroko was internally pleased now that the six of them could return to Japan where things were much mellower and quiet to a degree than the fair English land.

It was not like the English wizards had done anything in particular or that the land itself was not to the phantom's tastes.

It just was not Japan.

And like the rest of the Kiseki, there was nothing as invigorating as playing basketball.

Quidditch was a side sport that was inherited like their pureblood heritage as Japanese wizards who attended Teikou and Mahoutokoro together. A genetic inheritance that was given whether they wanted it or not. 'Wanted' was an excessive word.

But as Kiseki no Sedai, losing was not an option, wanted extracurricular or not.

Teikou's teachings of winning being everything had even flooded into their wizardry so effectively that like their record in middle school, they were the winners in three consecutive years of the Champion's League and the National Japanese Tournament.

But like basketball, Quidditch was no longer played for the love of the sport if there was any in the first place, but to uphold their title.

None could bypass when Akashi's Emperor Eye was in effect nor spot the Golden Snitch as swiftly. None could even conjure the thought of going against Murasakibara when he played defense, much less, offense.

None could intercept the Quaffle from Kise when his golden eyes glowed with threat to use the opponent's movements against them. None could stop Aomine when he was able to stop all of their petty feints and attempts for him to drop the Quaffle, his agility too quick and unpredictable for anyone below his team.

None was able to claim the statement of Midorima to ever miss, his goals sharp and lethal, never missing no matter how far from the post. And none could ever intercept their shadow's passes to each of them, designed for only ones of their caliber to catch.

They were unbeatable. And dulled by it.

That is, until the previous event of the Winter Cup; to which their shadow had beaten them all, separated in their own teams in basketball; and now, even Quidditch was seen in a different light. Could it?

To love a game that they did not even like in the first place? The light bluette thought as his hands grazed over the Golden Snitch from the game. They haven't lost… Even after the World Cup… And even in this game, they were only playing to fulfill their end of the bargain. That accursed contract that they had signed a year ago. All because of him.

"Kurokocchi? Are you okay?"

Taking the bluette from his thoughts, Kuroko blinked before nodding reflexively at the blonde, realizing that they were all seated in the equivalent of a living room in their school's swiftest ship, the cabin scented with a fragrant incense as it was furnished exquisitely for the purebloods.

Seated at the head of the table, the newly arrived Akashi fingered a shogi piece to which Kuroko noted to be the red king, as he met each of the gazes of his team coolly.

"Now then, considering that we have the World Cup behind us; our participation in Inter-High and the Winter Cup is assured. An Olympic title for the following four years shall assuage our parents' goading for our integration into the Wizarding World anymore than necessary." Or the Headmaster's for that matter.

Akashi began with a hint of annoyance that only the other five could detect under the polite tone. And maybe, Momoi. "We are significantly better from our previous plans of Daiki and Ryota switching between being a Beater and a Chaser along with having Tetsuya and I who switch from being a Seeker."

"The game could have been finished faster if Tetsu was playing as our other Chaser. It's not like anyone can catch his passes other than us and Bakagami." Aomine pointed out as Kise pouted.

"Are you saying that my copies of Kurokocchi's Ignite Pass suck, Aominecchi? I can only use those for a few minutes!"

"They're not Tetsu's. That's why it sucks, you dumb blonde."

"Don't call me a dumb blonde!"

"In any case." Midorima cut in before an argument can form. "This should be the extent in which we will interact with the West or in the Wizarding World in general for the following year other than the Champion's League and the Japanese National Tournament to allow us to attend Shutoku, Tou, Kaijo, Rakuzan, Yosen, and Seirin comfortably."

"Not unless a certain decision is passed by our Headmaster." Akashi frowned cynically, immediately alighting red flags on all of their expressions except Kuroko.

"What do you mean, Aka-chin?" Murasakibara asked in-between bites of maibou, already on his last one as all of them turned to their captain.

"What I mean is that Professor Matsumoto Shinta has received an invitation to attend a Triwizard Quidditch Cup." Akashi announced, most of his audience unaware of this type of tournament. "I do not have all the details just yet, but what I do know is that we are to attend for the entire year if he does." Akashi means when, not if.

"Let me guess, it's not in Japan but in Europe?" Kise questioned as his captain nodded. "We can barely stand it here in England with the time zones, language barrier, and customs as it is for just a weekend. And Shinta-jii thinks we should go for a whole year?!"

Murasakibara frowned as he chewed on his maibou with an unpleased growl. "I won't be able to eat my Japanese snacks."

"But why this tournament in particular?" Midorima questioned. "There is no reason for us to be attending this tournament being so far away and not to mention the fact that we are only summer students, not year-round."

"And what about the Winter Cup?" Aomine asked. Of course, his priority being basketball as was everyone else's. "If we go to this tournament, we'll miss the Winter Cup and not to mention the end of the Inter-High finals!"

Which meant that they would have missed both altogether.

"Calm yourself, Daiki." Akashi snapped, his voice cold.

"I am well aware of the chance of our participation in Inter-High and the Winter Cup will be limited severely this year if we attend this tournament. Neither of you are not helping the situation by yelling out your opinion at me.

It is not as difficult as it may appear to predict your opinions on this matter and to be frank, I am not particularly pleased at this neither, to make our curriculum and activities more complicated than it need be. And as for your questions, Shintarou, this is apparently an invitation from the English Headmaster, a friend of our own Headmaster."

There was an unanimous hum of agreement as the six of them had a complicated relationship with wizardry.

While it was true that they were purebloods (as the English say) of prominent wizarding lineage, the use of magic was conducted as little as possible, an unspoken rule between the six of them. Even with their new respective wands hidden in their sleeves, the six of them held another oath — to never use magic unless it was absolutely necessary along with the requirement that at least one of them must be present when it was done, Momoi excluded.

"If we were to assume that we would attend this school, when would we know or at least, be notified, Akashi-kun?" Kuroko broke the silence quietly as Akashi regarded their shadow with a softened look.

"Before September, therefore, in about a week." Akashi replied, his ruby eyes dimmed as he runs a hand through his hair. "And from what I can tell, the possibility of us going to this school is high, with our parents backing this... suggestion.

Therefore, in the scenario that of which we are, I will call each of you with details of how we will conduct this matter."

There was an implied question that was answered with agreement from his audience as Akashi smirked inwardly.

Former captain in basketball or not, he was still their captain and his orders were always obeyed. Before anyone could break the silence or change the subject upon anything else, a series of frantic and hard knocks were heard against the mahogany door.

Before any of them could open it, a young witch's voice was heard.

"Akashi-kun! Dai-chan! Tetsu-kun! Muk-kun! Midorin! Ki-chan!"

Momoi's voice yelled from behind the door loudly as Murasakibara, who was closest to the door opened it to reveal their flustered manager. The pink-haired girl scanned the six of them wildly for a second before slumping over in relief to the Miracles' confusion. "Oh, thank goodness! You all are alright!"

"Oi, Satsuki. The hell's going on?" Aomine demanded as the manager looked at them in a small panic.

"Death Eaters have invaded the area! They're setting the camps below us aflame and killing anyone in their way by the minute!" Momoi hissed, gaining all of their attention. Immediately, the red-headed captain took command, his eyes narrowed.

"All of you put on your communicators." Akashi commanded as they all made their way out to the main deck of Shuinsen, hovering in the midnight clouds. Hidden in the veiled wisps of the sky, the ship reflected the attack several hundred feet below, fires licking the magical tents hungrily and small hooded figures among them, confirming their manager's report.

"Ryota, Atsushi, take us away from here. I do not want to have to deal with the British Ministry if we were to interfere with their matters. As far as we are concerned, this is no business of ours.

Tetsuya, Daiki, get on your brooms and ensure that we are not to be followed, friendly or otherwise. Just because we are foreigners and purebloods, it does not mean that the Death Eaters will have mercy upon us. Do not veer away too far from the ship's wards.

Shintarou, Satsuki, inform the Headmaster of this mess.

Dismissed."

And in unison that was too perfect to not be natural, the other six moved, their captain's orders echoing behind them.

How troublesome. Akashi thought as he twirled the shogi piece, the fires reflecting his golden eye ominously.

Chapter Text

It was during the weekend as if to make it convenient enough.

Kuroko was reading on his family's balcony when his phone had vibrated in unison with five others, all of them having nonetheless the same reaction from the text message from their captain, varying degrees of a displeased frown with the accompanied swear from Aomine. Immediately after reading the message, another took its place:

Gather in the Council Room of Mahoutokoro in five minutes.

Sighing, Kuroko retreated into his chambers of a large traditional Japanese home, courtesy of his grandmother's insistence to keep to the Japanese way, kept orderly by a housekeeper and a gardener who kept the bonsai from overgrowing. Of course, compared to the other six households, it was small in comparison.

Dark, isolated yet cozy enough for the household of four, the only son of the home swiftly changed into his school robes, before Apparating to his part-time school.

Appearing on the tatami chambers with a silent crack, the ebony cloaked Kuroko found only Murasakibara and Midorima present, the others having yet to arrive, only to appear a moment later. Aomine grunted a greeting as Kise attempted to grab in a hug only to be disappointed when the phantom dodged, all of them in variation of the same uniform.

In the Japanese school of magic, students were presented with a set of traditional robes, pink in the beginning and changing as the student grew in academics would shift. For the six of them, they were donned in thinner golden robes, as the top of their respective divisions.

As expected of the Council.

Within Mahoutokoro, students only attended classes based on their division, as a set of major courses while attending minor, extracurricular ones based on personal choice and schedules.

Each of them were in the same uniform for all students - a colored hakama of their academic status, with an obi to indicate division, and sandaled tabi - accented with personal touches. Such as Kuroko, who as the Master of Dark Arts, bore a deep ebony obi in his robes with a hidden pattern of waves within the silk as he seats himself. 

Taking his seat beside his former shadow, Aomine yawned, an annoyed look pooling his tanned face as he pulled a jade pendant in the shape of a peony out of the way at his belt. To the other side of the shadow was a smirking Kise, happily greeting them all as he waves a hand.

Murasakibara was seated contently as he chewed on a box of strawberry Pocky, not too careful to not soil his uniform. Inversely, a scowling Midorima adjusted his glasses before setting down his tea whisk, today's lucky item, sweeping away imaginary dust from the floor with his hands.

And lastly was Akashi who appeared, a light red fan unfurled over his arms, sighing.

"Akashi-kun." Kuroko greeted as the others nodded their own greeting, all seated on pillows with a large ornate table between them as the leader and captain arrived, later than the called time as usual as he looked at all of them coolly.

The captain reciprocated to each of them, his smile bitter. "I find it unfortunate that we have met in such conditions but it appears that we have no choice but to attend this Triwizard Quidditch Tournament. Headmaster Shinta has issued that we are to attend as representatives of Mahoutokoro and therefore, forfeiting our participation in this year's Inter-High and Winter Cup.

It is nonnegotiable."

Silence enveloped the six of them as all of them digested the news, their fury silent but due to the prior announcement, the blow was less impactful.

But it did not mean they liked it.

Akashi continued, cold and blunt. "The Headmaster has threatened that if we do not participate in this, we cannot be deemed as summer students despite our fulfillment of hours and status as the Council.

We will be dismissed our schooling here. And if we were to be offed, the Japanese Ministry will be informed of the events from last year."

Meaning that they would be arrested, imprisoned without trial and most definitely, deemed clinically insane.

And not necessarily in that order, neither.

"What the hell is this tournament anyway?" Aomine broke the silence with a gruff growl. "If I am going to miss playing in both Inter-High and the Winter Cup, this thing better be worth it."

Taking the obvious but thankful distraction, Akashi explained. "It is a tournament that which three wizarding schools are invited to one of the schools and with their represented teams, compete in a series of dangerous matches that require more than just Quidditch. Our matches are judged by three standards: score, performance, and teamwork." 

They were lacking in a particular area there.

"And yes, I know. But I believe training menus can accommodate."

A shiver runs through the other five.

"What school are we going to exactly?" Midorima questioned, after he was finished muttering at the new set of complications he had now for his lucky items if they were exclusively of Japan."A week ago, you said it was held in Europe, Akashi."

"And so I did." The redhead acknowledged with a hum.

"The host is a school in Great Britain, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the other school that will be in attendance with us is Durmstrang Institute. Like us, the latter has a single conglomerate team as starters and other players as substitutes against other schools. While Hogwarts operates in four apparent teams, each represented by a House."

"Ho, is the school that big, Aka-chin?" Murasakibara blinked, having moved on to the served array of sweets with the tea.

"Apparently, Atsushi. Hogwarts, as Satsuki had kindly researched for us, is divided into four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each having their own Quidditch Team, they all play for the House Cup. And for the tournament, the players and teams will be accounted differently."

Akashi held up a paper that displayed the games in a total of three to the other four's bewilderment other than Kuroko, who did not appear to be surprised at much of anything. "Instead of the conglomerate or representative House to play, the champion teams are chosen, through a Magical Item known as the Goblet of Fire."

All of them paused before looking at their captain in disbelief, even Kuroko stares at him with a questioning look. Well. A questioning look for the blank-faced phantom.

"Are you saying that we have a chance of not competing, Akashi?" Midorima questioned with a glare, adjusting his glasses. "If this were the case, why not allow one of the other teams in the school to attend? There's a high chance that none of us will even be competing in this tournament even if we were to place our names in it."

"I had reasoned the same with our esteemed Headmaster. However, that is until he had notified me that the Magical Item in question for this event, chooses students that represented the school." Akashi refuted as he waved a hand at all of them. "Despite as summer-only students , Shintarou, we are still the Masters of our respective divisions as well as leaders that make up the Council."

One couldn't get more representative than the school than that in Mahoutokoro. 

"In other words, there is almost a guaranteed possibility that we are going to be selected anyway." Midorima muttered as he huffed.

"Ano… Akashicchi? Maybe I might be reading this wrong, because I could have sworn that this says that we only have three games to play in the entire year." Kise blinked several times as if that would make the wording change to normal.

It didn't.

"You have read correctly, Ryota. And, naturally, there is a reason for this. They are not just Quidditch matches alone." Akashi replied in a patient voice when a soft knock was heard, interrupting.

The doors slide open to reveal Momoi in the same golden robes, only with pink cherry blossoms on the silk as she carried a familiar clipboard, magenta eyes happy as she greeted everyone before they continued.

"The reason that there are only three official matches are because in between the remaining amount of time of the 'games', there is more at play than just the Golden Snitch or the amount of points." Momoi announced as the Kiseki listened in interest.

"The location of the game, the graded tasks in the middle of it, or even who your opponents will be can all be omitted until the game begins . And it is our job to find out."

"These tasks can be anything." Momoi continued, her face deceptively sweet. "From 'accidental' actions of other players to the dangers of the tasks themselves, even you guys may have trouble with these three tasks if you are not careful enough as you will most likely face both of teams in the last task as per tradition."

"Then the preceding two games will most likely lead us to the final one." Kuroko stated, his blank eyes on the paper as Midorima nodded, his bandaged hands holding a daifuku, biting the cake.

"Whatever the task it may be is most likely something for one of us to retrieve while the rest of us fend off whatever it maybe trying to potentially deter us from and at the same time, be playing a game of Quidditch in extreme circumstances." The bespectacled vice-captain looked at their captain almost expectantly. "I presume, you have a training regime for us in mind?"

Akashi smiled. "On paper. And none of you are allowed to skip."

Heterochromic eyes dart to Aomine with a teasing glint. I am referring to you, Daiki.

The darker skinned male let out a yell of protest as Tetsuya patted his former light in comfort, not really effective as his face was stoic. Kise and Midorima in the other hand, had no sympathies whatsoever, as the former laughed heartily and the latter snorting at the musclehead's moronic actions.

"Speaking of skipped practices." Murasakibara cut in, after eating a cookie. "What are we going to tell our teams, Aka-chin? I… I like playing at Yosen with Muro-chin… Even though they always make me play basketball… We don't have to leave, do we, Aka-chin?"

"Not officially. But we would have to take leave for a year. Headmaster Shinta will supply a satisfactory explanation to the ningen authorities." Their captain sighed as he opened his cell phone before reading the time.

They had been here for more than three hours. Longer than he had originally anticipated but not out the time range. Looking at them before replacing the phone, he nodded to Satsuki. "Seeing as we have been here for a while, I believe this is appropriate for us to leave. We all have school tomorrow. I will have Satsuki send to each of you a set of instructions and a schedule of updates of things to keep an eye out for."

"But this is surprising." Kuroko spoke up as they all blinked at the phantom while Akashi regarded the phantom with a gleam of interest. "It is unlike Akashi-kun to be so obedient."

Their captain grinned with a hint of sardonic amusement, all of them recognizing that expression as shivers crawled their spines other than Kuroko. No one else was so daring to call the emperor for his unusual behavior.

"Oh? Then, can you see why I am so obedient as of late, Tetsuya?"

Kuroko nods, undeterred by the dangerous lilt in the captain's voice.

"Akashi-kun is playing shogi."

Abiding by his time for the fatal strike. Like a predator awaiting for his prey to dance for him.

Akashi smiles approvingly. "Very good, Tetsuya. I am playing shogi. Our opponent believes that they will go unpunished for forcing us into this tournament. But they are mistaken."

For he will have them pay in full to dare use their phantom against them.

Kuroko stands, nodding, blank eyes cold as they meet those gold-red ones. "I expect nothing less from Akashi-kun."

"COME AGAIN?!"

Round, sky blue eyes blinked; unfazed as he repeated with as much politeness as anyone could muster in the Japanese language. "I was chosen to take part in an exchange program between our school and a school in Germany and thought that I should let you know, Aida-san. It will take the entire year and I will leave in two weeks. Therefore, unable to participate in Inter-High and the Winter Cup this year. Please forgive the inconvenience and trouble I have caused."

The Seirin High School Basketball team looked at the other half of their freshman duo with incredulous looks, disbelieving at the shadow's words.

"OI! Are you saying that you're quitting basketball altogether, Kuroko?!" Kagami Taiga shouted at his shadow as the said phantom blinked at his current light.

"No, Kagami-kun." Kuroko deadpanned. "I am just not going to participate in the Basketball Club this year. My parents wanted me to take this program for a year. I have no intention to stop playing basketball if that's what you thought I was implying Kagami-kun."

"And the principal has approved of this?" Aida Riko all but interrogated as Kuroko nodded. "But without you, Kuroko-kun; our Rookie Duo combination are all but what it is, how will we keep our title as Champions if leave this year?"

"And how will we go against the rest of Kiseki no Sedai without Kuroko?" Shinji Koganei asked, his catlike mouth pouting before looking at Kagami who glared. "Not that you are not enough Kagami."

Kuroko stated. "You're not going to."

"I know." They all sighed dejectedly before the words registered completely. Until they all cried out in realization, "EH?!"

"Kuroko, what do you mean that we're not facing the rest of Kiseki no Sedai?!" Kagami asked loudly, his face confused yet slightly disappointed. "Did your creepy former captain order you guys to stay out of it to make things 'interesting' again?"

"No. And please do not insult Akashi-kun." If you want to stay alive. The bluette replied. "Akashi-kun is going to Britain to assist his father in overseeing that branch of the Akashi conglomerate.

Aomine-kun and Momoi-san are preoccupied with interviews with promising scholarships in America. Murasakibara-kun is going to France with his family for a year and enrolling in a culinary school while he is there. Kise-kun is going on year-long all-around-the-world photoshoot. And Midorima-kun has requested to assist his father in the medical offices, he runs in Germany.

So, for the year; it just so happens that none of us are going to attend Inter-High or the Winter Cup."

"J-Just like that?!" Kagami stuttered. "All of you are going?" He was dreaming.

Kuroko tilted his head. "It's only one year, Kagami-kun." That he was given no consent to.

Not waiting for an answer and turning to his coach and captain alike instead of his sputtering light, the phantom bowed before speaking once more. "So… Coach?"

Riko sighed before nodding begrudgingly. "One year, Kuroko. Officially, you are still a part of Seirin's basketball team; even though you are in Germany. Maybe when you come back, you can show us some new moves from over there! But I still want those official papers of your program for reference."

Nodding, Kuroko flipped open his phone as Riko ordered all of them to get ready for practice.

After sending a confirmation message to Akashi, the phantom sighed at the twenty laps of running around the track that he was due as he changed out of his uniform. Blinking at the message that he received also immediately after sending his to Akashi, the shadow sighed.

Speaking of uniforms.

Arriving Hogwarts with the aftermath of Peeves' pranks, the Golden Trio watched the Sorting Ceremony with relaxed, encouraging smiles as they welcomed newcomers into their House, conversing among themselves as the feast began with a wave of Dumbledore's hands, risen with sagely ease.

But the true excitement began after the feast, as the Headmaster took his place before them, his words firm yet kind, aligned with commanding that held an aged wisdom.

"Now that we have all been settled in and Sorted, I would like to make an announcement other than the usual ornate warnings that Mr. Filch has requested of me to make. This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well.

This year, we will not be alone in competing between Houses for the annual House Cup. Instead, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event: The Triwizard Quidditch Tournament." Whispers of excitement over the sport and the reveal of the 'mystery event' that was going to take place the following year echoed the hall as the Headmaster continued.

"For those of you who do not know, this tournament brings together three schools for a series of matches. The tournament will call for a team of selected students from each of the schools to represent them in a series of three official trials in which they will be judged in three levels for the trial: score, performance and teamwork."

The Headmaster's voice grew grave. "Now, let me be clear. If chosen, you stand alone and can depend upon only those within your team. And trust me when I say that these trials are not for the faint-hearted."

"More of that later." Dumbledore waved aside as his voice resumed it's warm tone. "But now, please join me in welcoming our friends of the North, the proud sons and daughters of Durmstrang! And their Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff!"

With a powerful burst of the Great Hall's doors, strode in young yet well-built boys emerging into the helms of manhood.

Marching with eyes forward and expression stern, the young men held metal staffs, clanking them loudly against the stone tiles so much that yellow sparks glowed with anger. If they were trying to be intimidating, they were succeeding.

Dressed in plain yet elegantly simple uniformed tunics of a reddish brown, the students began their entrance. With a powerful twirl, the young men (and few women) dazzled the Hogwarts students with their uniformed front, eyes darkened with concentration when suddenly they lowered the staffs, sprinting for the Head Table. As if their staff wielding skill was not enough, they began to execute fluid flips and acrobatics, as they parted for their Headmaster and star Seeker.

Igor Karkaroff was tall and thin like Dumbledore, his eyes a cold, unmoving blue. Despite his warm hug and disposition to the Hogwarts' Headmaster, his smile although cheery, appeared fake.

A wavy mane of ebony that was streaked with grey was hidden under a Scandinavian hat, as the Headmaster donned a white overcoat, a grand staff in his hands as his goatee danced when he greeted the other. Beside him stood, Viktor Krum.

Thin, yet built enough to give anyone a run in the opposing direction; the Bulgarian Seeker had a shaven head, eyes dark as Harry studied the fellow Seeker. He had a sharp profile, confident and overwhelming; not particularly good-looking yet like his Headmaster, he was cold.

Durmstrang seated at an extended seating arrangement of the Slytherin table, Dumbledore regained his position at the podium as he rose his arms for silence. "And now from across the continent, please welcome the prodigies of Mahoutokoro! And their Headmaster, Shinta Matsumoto!"

With another burst of the doors, a soft wind danced through as all seemed to perk up at the scent.

Harry identified it as a gentle flowery scent, hinted with a dash of apple, pear, and peach; light yet elegant. With soft footfalls entered a sagely man, his beard as white as Dumbledore's as he donned a military uniform, all white other than large ebony boots, from his peaked cap to his high collared overcoat, bordered with gold, an intimidating sight as his glare scanned over them.

But before any of the students could question the presence of the prodigies, six figures strode in, their postures relaxed and confident as five dragons danced in the night sky ceiling of the Great Hall, grabbing the awe of the students as they watched the fireworks.

Harry recognized the rainbow of colors anywhere. The Generation of Miracles.

Like their Headmaster, all six of them were donned in the white uniforms, only more extravagant as Harry observed each and to his surprise, recognition.

To the far most left, towered a young man at the height of over two hundred centimeters, pale purple locks were tied back in a neat ponytail under a swayed cap hid half-lidded matching orbs, bored. White shirt pressed under a matching tie and jacket, gold shoulder decoration gleamed under the firelight elegantly, his long legs appearing to stretch on for eternity as they finally ended in ebony boots. A ruby lolly hung dangerously from pink lips, as he walked past the whispering Hogwarts students with his cohorts.

Moving along the line, was another figure that appeared to be built for strength. Muscles defined even under the same uniform, he was darker skinned than the other five, his eyes a misleading midnight that could have been ebony, glinting with toying. But in the sheen of light, they matched his short navy hair, under the badged cap that gleamed an angered dragon head as he frowned at something the only female of the six had whispered to him.

She was shorter than the boys, but Harry had seen the gleam of intelligence in those magenta eyes that screamed danger when angered. Her soft pink hair was pinned into a bun under the cap, as she donned a tight-fitting dress, white with gold embellishments like the boys as heeled boots clicked with her steps, a giggle on her lips as she hugged a clipboard in her arms.

On the opposite end at the far most right, was a green-haired young man, olive eyes glaring past square glasses that a white-gloved hand reached to adjust. Like the others, he walked with a grace that screamed confidence that appeared to be almost natural, and it was. Pinned to his jacket was, to Harry's confusion, a steel file, poking out like a sore thumb in the pristine white expanse of the outfit and yet, none of the other five seemed to even give the item anymore than a simple glance or even a small smile that followed a small shake of the head.

Beside him was a blonde man, his appearance handsome and suave, as if the uniform was fitted just for him and him alone to don. Despite donned in the same ensemble, the golden blonde appeared to be more suited and handsomer in the clothing, not that Harry was one to really say.

They were all handsome and Harry would sooner be a turtle than for one of them to state that they were unaware of it; they were all too aware if anything.

Appearing to lead them, a red-headed male, the shortest of the boys and Harry didn't know why he knew it but he knew this: he was not to be messed with.

Ruby locks framed a porcelain face that glowed with matching orbs that were warm and kind, as a smile greeted the Hogwarts students; but unlike the others, his uniform was accompanied with a red sash from his right shoulder to the left hip, cutting diagonally over his torso. If there was a flaw upon his person, Harry was sure that he could not find it. Not a crease, speck of dust, segment of hair, or even a gleam of carelessness was seen.

But a riding crop clipped to his belt was.

Behind the six was a small legion of students that was barely half of the Gryffindors, all dressed in uniforms of white as well but bare and plain in comparison to the leading six, all in varying coloration in a display of a sole golden badge, striped with any variation of the six Kiseki along with black; the only gold on their caps and person. They were militaristic in their strides, long yet well-practiced, as small will-o-wisps of every color danced around the Great Hall, awing all.

With a turn after the light show was finished, the redhead paused in his steps, smirking as he glanced at the entrance. Harry followed his line of sight before frowning. There wasn't anything there.

Harry blinked as he turned back to the red head, who to his surprise, caught him. Flushing, Harry berated himself, only to find the captain had returned his focus to his Headmaster, saluting. With a ripple of obedience, the rest of the students followed in suit. Feeling a shiver up his spine, Harry glanced back the ajar doors of the Great Hall.

Nothing.

"Shinta." Dumbledore greeted as the Headmaster of Mahoutokoro nodded with a gentle smile on his face before returning the gesture with a greeting of his own, the dragons receding as the students of Mahoutokoro were seated at the Ravenclaw table, the corner seat empty as Harry blinked at the redhead, who turned to the empty space beside him, seemingly speaking to thin air.

Smiling after a short moment, he met Harry's green gaze, startling him.

Eyeing at Harry as if he was a slightly more interesting insect, before Harry could react, a soft color danced into his gaze.

Coming in and out of focus, the Boy Who Lived widened his eyes at the former 'empty space.'

Smaller than his captain, this boy appeared fragile and even weak, as he tuned in and out of focus. But from what Harry was able to see, he was dressed in a black version of the other five males, the gold more vibrant in his dark disposition. Blank eyes the color of the sky watched everything and nothing, as they were barely visible at the distance that Harry was at, further hidden under the arch of his ebony cap.

When and how did the Seeker of the Kiseki get there?!

"It appears our reputation precedes us, Tetsuya." Akashi smirked as they saw Harry turn to the Weasleys, all of them speaking rapidly and shooting glances their way. "Although, your low presence appears to be in full effect."

"Keh. They haven't found Tetsu yet?" Aomine huffed before stuffing fried chicken in his mouth, his chopsticks in hand. "He's even wearing a different color from the rest of us. If there's anyone who should be ignored, it's Kise. So annoying."

"Dai-chan!" Momoi scolded as Kise wailed in the background.

"Aominecchi! That's mean!" The blonde turned watery eyes at the phantom, hugging the life out of the latter's arm. "Kurokocchi~! Aominecchi is being mean to me! Defend me!"

"Please release me, Kise-kun." Tetsuya blinked as the blonde did nothing of the sort before turning to Aomine. "Aomine-kun, it is not their fault that they cannot see me. Kise-kun is too annoying to be ignored."

"That's mean, Kurokocchi~!" The blonde hugged his entire person now.

"Murasakibara, your table manners are as horrendous as I remember since middle school." Midorima sighed as he glared at the giant's grip on his chopsticks. "As Oha Asa predicted, Libras will be disorganized today as Cancers would not be compatible with them in the least."

"Mido-chin is being annoying." Murasakibara frowned as he busily ate ice cream down his mouth. "Kuro-chin and Aka-chin said that if I ate my vegetables, I can have dessert. As much as I want as long as I don't crush anyone." That they did not plan for anyway.

"You can, Murasakibara." The bespectacled wizard sighed in impatience. "Just don't eat too much, not that I care or anything."

"Oi, Kise! Leave Tetsu alone!" Aomine growled before he looked at Midorima with a huff, making the latter sputter. "Fucking tsundere."

"You leave Kurokocchi alone! You're the one who's being mean to—!"

Before the blonde could finish, a glance from heterochromic eyes shut him up, before they landed on the ace, who failed to repress a flinch. Kuroko stared impassively in the terrified blonde's arms, slowly untangling himself from those octopus arms.

"Do I have to separate you two for you to behave?" Akashi asked, his voice cold even if the tone was sickeningly pleasant.

As if they had just barely noticed that there were other people in the Great Hall, the blonde found a majority of the Hall's attention on them, eyes bewildered and attention successfully caught.

Their Headmaster appeared to watch them with amusement as was Dumbledore, while Karkaroff frowned with Snape; McGonagall watching with curiosity with everyone else, not understanding the words but the tone was telling enough.

Looking at their captain, the scolded two mumbled agreements and apologies as the hall returned to it's usual hum of conversations, the seven of them soon drowned in their own conversations as the other schools quickly lost interest, not understanding Japanese, while the other members of Mahoutokoro knew better than to involve themselves with the craziness of the Council.

Smart of them.

It was soon after the arrival of Barty Crouch Sr. that the Headmaster of Hogwarts stood before the three schools at the podium once more, beside him, a golden embellished tower that twinkled in the hovering candlelights of the Hall.

"Your attention, please!" Dumbledore's voice rang out as all conversation was ceased, attention at the stage as the Japanese students with the assistance of the rings on their fingers, were able to understand. "I would like to say a few words."

With a hand over the golden tower, the Headmaster spoke. "Eternal glory. That is what awaits the team of students who win the Triwizard Quidditch Tournament. But to do this, the seven of them must survive three matches, along with tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks."

There were those who took the words to heart and decided to opt out. None of the twins nor the Kiseki for that matter, were those people. The former were adventurous. The latter simply had no choice.

"For this reason, the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all of this we have the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Mr. Bartemius Crouch."

Under unseen eyes entered another figure, his form hunched and limping. Blonde locks crudely soaked by rainwater, it was as if the ceiling had reacted to the Auror's presence as the night sky above them cackled with glee, thunder rumbling and lightning flashing, as the students and teachers alike cowered. But with a ruby flash of magic, the ceiling was restored, the odd appearance catching everyone's attention.

And here he is. Akashi noted whimsically, as Kuroko merely stared at the Auror, rising an eyebrow.

"My dear old friend, thanks for coming." Dumbledore greeted as Moody returned the gesture with a mutter.

"Stupid ceiling."

A twinkle colored the Headmaster's eye as he nodded off his friend, returning to his post. "Thank you."

Retaking the stage, Bartemius Crouch was a slim man, his grey hair parted neatly and his lips shadowed with a toothbrush mustache. A black suit and polished shoes hid under ebony robes of a wizard, as onyx eyes that held authority yet sympathy gazed steely over them, as if he was reluctant to speak.

"After due consideration, the British Ministry has concluded that for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard Quidditch Tournament. This decision is final."

"That's rubbish!" One of the twins cried out as other Hogwarts students cried out in protest, while on the contrary, the Japanese and Scandinavian students were silent.

They had caught something that their British counterparts had not. They were not under such jurisdiction as the protest echoed louder, the twins' the loudest of them all. "That's rubbish! You don't know what you're doing!"

"Silence!" Dumbledore all but commanded as the golden tower melted with the downward slope of Dumbledore's wand, revealing a heavy wooden goblet, blue-white flames dancing beautifully at the edges.

"The Goblet of Fire." The Headmaster introduced. "The 'impartial judge' of the tournament that has been issued one per school. Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the tournament from Hogwarts need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it into the flame before this hour on Thursday night. The other two schools shall have their own for candidates to place their names. Do not do so lightly. If chosen, there's no turning back. As of this moment, the Triwizard Quidditch Tournament has begun."

Akashi chuckled into his gloved hand. How cute. Stating such things as if they had a choice in this farce.

A small laugh echoes in his mind, as painted lips widened in amusement. The West is all of freedom and individualism, young one. Our methods may scare them.

The captain smirks widely. And rightly so.

Chapter Text

Mahoutokoro School of Magic was founded for the education of young Magical Japanese students and the occasional transfer student from overseas who wished to attend one of the most isolated schools of magic.

Located on the island of Minami Iwo Jima, the school's central piece was a jeweled pagoda, shrouded by a thick fog that gave the institution a mysterious aura. Golden dragons protected the entrances of the palace with a ferocity at the red-clay tiles, as experienced students entered by Apparition or by trained storm petrels for young students that lived in the ningen homes in the mainland, not yet able to Apparate.

Known for academic prowess and grueling training of Quidditch, despite one of the smallest of student body; it was a school for only the gifted and prodigies alike to attend.

Unlike it's European counterparts, the Japanese system was built upon a hierarchy. Each upon entry were given soft pink robes and a military uniform for formal ceremonies, blatantly stating their status in the school, and as they advanced, the clothing would change accordingly. From the lowest of status of Ningen to the highest of Gifted, it mattered not their blood status, only how well they did in class.

Each student was divided into differing divisions of study, able to change from what they believed was their field of expertise or what they preferred, signified by their badges - Divination, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Talismans and Arrays, Alchemy, Magical History and the Dark Arts. 

There were four categories: Master, Second, Third and everyone else.

The Master was the representative from each field of magic, the top wielder of them regardless of personality and popularity; within the halls of Mahoutokoro, only skill mattered. And for this reason, they were often the older members of the division, guiding the younger members. However, this old tradition was usurped three years ago, after the attendance of a generation of young boys, previously homeschooled in magic that were all Gifted. Except one.

Gifted were a rare, prodigal wizard that was blessed by the gods, and if deemed worthy, may have honor to establish a contract with their patron god or goddess. 

Only one of them was not one. He would have been a Defect, if not for his power over the Dark Arts.

Yet all of them were powerful enough to form a contract. Only for all of them to be violated.

And for violations, there are consequences.

Consequences fitting for their victims, who dared to go against their word.

To lie to their god.

Because for all of the power of the gods, even they cannot stop the strings of fate. They cannot stop their blessed children from hurting themselves and others for their naivety or shortcomings. Because for all of their brightness, they were also fragile, so human, even with the power to destroy worlds at their fingertips.

For the reason for genii to be rare, may not merely be in acknowledgement of humility, but to allow the world to keep.

Kuroko awoke in cold sweat as he looked around him with wild eyes, his usually blank face contorted in an expression of terror, calming after several breaths that he was at his private chambers in Mahoutokoro.

Little one? The goddess whispered in his mind, ghostly hands comforting as they massaged his temples. They were also the very same hands that commanded Yomi, the dregs of the Netherworld.

Replying that he was as well as anyone could be after a nightmare, he sighed as the hands disappeared to leave him alone in his chambers.

Grand and expensive within their ship, unlike the lower-ranking students, the seven Masters had an entire section to themselves. Hot spring bathes for female and male or outfitted modern baths for their own choosing, canopied beds with silk sheets, full-fitted desks and even Magicked televisions for their own discretion, an invention of Midorima and Murasakibara; they were, almost luxuriously, equipped.

Sighing as he threw off the damp sheets of the futon, the phantom frowned lightly as he caught a glance at his reflection, his bed hair was unruly as ever. Sticking up in nearly every direction, Kuroko ceased his futile efforts to tame the soft sky blue locks and promptly decided to save himself the trouble by showering.

Opting out of the shared onsen, he stepped out into his chambers a short half an hour later, absently toweling his hair when his thoughts drifted. They were currently on their way to Hogwarts, after been given the full briefing of the foreign school, whose recent history peaked Kuroko's interest. Unlike the division system based on study after the first year of general magic in Mahoutokoro, students were taught all subjects in the West.

Such a system would have failed him. Kuroko mused, eyeing his wand. But then again, it was not like their system hadn't.

Then came these Western Wizards and their Magical Items. Unlike their more technological items, the West outright did not use them, whether it be phones or televisions. Although the Japanese were not much more so, ever since Midorima-kun had invented a method to convert several articles of technology to be compatible with magic, they never went back, so to speak.

Another difference was that they did not employ the use of wands.

Instead, talismans and magic circles were their forte. An ancient magic of the gods, based on the celestial bodies of worship, in the form of their mythos. And if that failed, the students of Mahoutokoro were taught self-defense as well, since magic was no fail-safe. Ningen were constantly evolving, the term for non-magical mortals. And they had to do the same.

For their system was not infallible. Him being a prime example.

At the top, sat the Council. Seven Masters, draped in gold, designed to never have a stalemate and to be student-driven, as judge, jury and executioner. However, the founders did not account for a Council that was fully aline, in a formation of a monopoly since it was assumed to be run by older, more experienced students. In addition, the top students were not necessarily good people, merely the best in skill.

Just below was the bloodbath for Second, robed in light blues, a small group that consisted of seven students after the Master in skill, constantly trying to overtake one another in being out of the dreaded seventh seat. Being student-run, it was the responsibility of the Master to oversee the ranks, dismissing the weak and welcoming the talented, coldly and mercilessly.

The Third was more lax, a squadron of twenty-one in purple, that consistently moved about in rankings just as much as the former but more slowly. Instead of being overlooked by the Master, it was monitored by the seven Second, three students to each to teach leadership and camaraderie.

Then there was everyone else which was often younger students in pink, who were barely integrated into the system for them to find their footing within, guided by the Third.

Like the Hogwarts system to which graduation was determined by age, Mahoutokoro was the same in that aspect - only however, required all students to be ranked at Third once during their seven years, to be graduated with full honors. Regardless of their bloodline.

However, it was the recent history of Hogwarts that was the most interesting to compare.

Of course, everyone had heard of Voldemort and Harry Potter. Kuroko was no different. Being a user of the Dark Arts himself, he was curious on the how Harry Potter had not died, since the Killing Curse was rather potent. But he doubted Potter-san knew, seeing how he was a mere infant.

Yet for a Ministry who had the Boy Who Lived, to which they could have studied for this answer, they were surprisingly stupid. For their Ministry was corrupt, but they were not stupid enough to dig their heads into the earth.

Instead, the British seemed to ignore the warnings of an incoming storm - in the form of new teachers, each one seemed to bring Potter-san into danger, whether they had the intent to or not. After the Dark Mark and the Death Eaters at the World Cup, for one could not be more obvious of a threat, the British Ministry acted as though all was well.

Kuroko was not one to think ill upon others. But he could not help but think that social reform was needed. A lot of it.

Which came to another curious aspect of the West. Mudblood.

Kuroko was not naive enough to think that his own nation did not have their own slurs. But their slurs pertained to foreigners. Not their own people.

Those who came from ningen origins were uncreatively called Ningen. Those of more prominent bloodlines were called Kazoku. While Tasai were the name of the Gifted in their home language, often coming from the Kazoku lines, but every so often were Ningen in origin as well. Because skill was all that mattered in Japan.

And yet despite his Eastern origins, he had a wand. Unlike being the prized weapon and almost extension of one's self in the West, it was merely another tool to the East. Another to add to their arsenal.

Grabbing the yew wand, Kuroko felt anticipation build within him despite knowing that he could not.

He tried anyway. Foolishly. Hopefully.

"Hikari."

Nothing.

His wand is silent, bone white wood unwilling to alight the darkness. 

Dropping it, Kuroko felt the clink echo in his person as he laughs breathily.

Of course, he couldn't. He was a Defect. A Gifted that could not use Magic. Only cursed to use the most forbidden form.

Because, as the Tasai of Izanami, Mother of Yomi and the Netherworld, was not only natural that he was only able to tear apart souls and summon the dead?

"By the request of your respective Headmasters, we ask that all guest students are to remain. To Hogwarts students, we bid a good night in preparation for this year's exciting events." Dumbledore announced to the Great Hall as the Hogwarts students rose to go to their House dormitories, led by their prefects. After filing out the stragglers, the Headmaster of Hogwarts took to the podium beside Barty Crouch, sided by both Matsumoto and Karkaroff.

Facing them in an organized crowd was the students of Mahoutokoro, Masters alined in the front of their divisions of Seconds and Thirds. While Krum led his own crowd of Durmstrang in a clear line between the two schools. 

Blinking, Matsumoto looked at Akashi for a moment. He was missing a Master.

"Akashi-kun, where is Kuroko-kun?"

"I'm right here, Headmaster." Kuroko said blankly, his gloved hand half-risen as nearly everyone in the room flinched at the phantom's sudden appearance. When the hell did he get there?!

"Ah. I apologize for not seeing you there, Kuroko-kun." The Headmaster amended with a smile before he addressed the rest of the students. "We have gathered all of you here to announce that the Japanese and Scandinavian Ministries has passed the decision to allow students at the age of sixteen as of this year to participate."

Karkaroff nodded. "Respect your fellow peers and participate in the tournament with the appropriate decorum."

Nodding the same to his students, Matsumoto continued. "Classes for Third will be conducted by your respective Masters, two lectures at noon after lunch for each on that given day, before study hall. In the morning, we have decided to give all students the opportunity to attend Hogwarts courses with permission from Dumbledore, you all will be intermixed with Durmstrang students as well Hogwarts'.

As for Durmstrang, you will follow in the same scheduling, outside of our lectures, since most of you are already done with your schooling. However, you are welcome to join us. And the same invitation will be extended Hogwarts' students for participation."

With a snap of his fingers, seven scrolls appeared before the Kiseki, sealed with their respective colorations.

"I have taken the liberty to formulate each of your schedules, each Master will pass them to their respective Seconds and Thirds in preparation for tomorrow. All lectures for Mahoutokoro will be in an empty classroom within Hogwarts that our hosts have generously offered. Any questions?"

"Yeah, old man." Aomine spoke up casually, immediately earning the annoyance of McGonagall at his lack of manners. Several others stared at the utter casualness of the young man at addressing his professor. "How early are these classes?"

"We have classes begin at nine and have classes until lunch at noon before continuing until four, to which we serve dinner until eight for our students, young man." McGonagall answered primly, as Aomine groaned into his gloves, eyes on his captain.

"We've only had four hours of sleep, Akashi."

"And you have ten more hours until breakfast will be served to you, Daiki. That time is up to your discretion to spend." Akashi was unsympathetic, still looking over the contents of his scroll. Bastard.

"Jet lag." The ace deadpanned. "I'm not going to fucking sleep."

"Language!" McGonagall snapped, all professors, but Dumbledore, who looked amused, wide-eyed at the crude words while Matsumoto sighed.

Here we go...

But with the experience of being a man under Satan Akashi himself, Aomine ignored the Head of Gryffindor with expertise. And Momoi, who looked about the same when he was saying something dumb.

"And we have practice after, Aominecchi." Kise added helpfully, reminding all of them of their training menu. Teikou flashbacks glittered over their eyes before shivering, garnering weird looks. Snape glanced at the crowd of Seconds and Thirds, who were now intermingling with Durmstrang, whispering.

("Is this... normal?" A Durmstrang boy asked, slightly bewildered.

A girl with a yellow badge sighed as if she was watching a scene for the hundredth time. "Yes."

An older boy scratched his head, smiling sympathetically as his green badge gleamed. "You kinda get used to it.")

"And no, you cannot skip." Midorima cut off as they continued their conversation, ignoring their subordinates, lifting his glasses to glare at the ace. "Or I will order your Seconds to burn every issue of your lecherous pornography. Akashi and I have not worked for hours, just so that you can skip out."

Before anyone could really react to the term of 'pornography' being used before sagely, respected professors; the conversation continued as if they were not before all the teachers or these people. 

"I will break all of your lucky items if you try, you fucking tsundere."

"How about me, Mido-chin? Can I skip? They have dinner for three hours here!" The giant was pouting as he pointed to the 'dinner' portion of their schedule, drowning out another one of McGonagall's sharp reprimands.

"No, you cannot, Murasakibara. And Oha-Asa will smite you for your behavior, Aomine. I will burn your chambers if it will make you get to training. Do not be stupid enough to try me."

The sharpshooter glances at Kise. "Like some people."

"What did I do, Midorimacchi?!" The blonde turned so quickly, Madam Pomfrey glanced at him, concerned for whiplash.

"Exist."

"Kise-kun. You said that your photoshoot would only be thirty minutes. You didn't come back until a week later." Fuck. They forgot there was the invisible one.

"Kurokocchi!" The blonde cried, betrayed. "That was one time!" As if he was suicidal enough to repeat when Akashi was the only one to greet him in the gym when he came back.

"Nonetheless, true, Ryota. But after your groveling, you have yet to repeat your offense." Akashi interceded, calmly before glancing at everyone else. No one missed how every Kiseki seemed to subconsciously turn to the captain, listening if not giving their full attention. "Classes nor practice will not be skipped, and you have your first class with me, Daiki. I invite you to skip, if you are so inclined to self-harm. No excuses will be allowed, short of one's deathbed or otherwise."

The more observant noted how Kise did not protest the insult, nor did Aomine counter the clear threat with one of his own; while most marveled at the grunt from the disobedient ace and the meek nod from the blonde, how they quickly were shut down by a mere glance from this young man.

They were taken from this by another question, clearly changing the subject. Thank fuck.

None of the Japanese students seemed to care that there were others in the room outside of themselves while Durmstrang seemed shocked into silence and degraded to observe the chaos. How clever of them.

"I will be teaching Dark Arts tomorrow, Headmaster." The Master of Dark Arts stated, eliciting violent flinches from most of the adults present as the Japanese students noted this curiously as the phantom paused. 

"...Is there a problem?" Kuroko asked innocently, as everyone seemed to watch the Hogwarts staff and the startled Durmstrang Headmaster closely.

"Not at all, Mr. Kuroko." Dumbledore replied with a small yet sad smile, one of the few that did not react negatively to the phantom's words. "There is merely a certain stigma here in the practice of the Dark Arts."

Kuroko nodded understandingly as if he did not know this. He was well aware of this.

"My apologies for making you all uncomfortable." The shadow bowed, blank eyes firm. "However, I can assure you, the classroom teachings are completely safe and conducted in proper regulation of the Ministry." 

But that did not mean it was to the British one specifically.

"Nonetheless, please do not feel obligated to attend if you or any students are uncomfortable to attend our classes."

Snape's eyes narrowed at the phantom.

This boy did not appear as dominating or fearsome as the captain but it appeared he was just as formidable.

By refusing to attend the Japanese classes out of their fear for anything remotely associated with the Dark Lord, it would make Hogwarts appear an ungrateful host, especially if the Mahoutokoro students did attend theirs, which was already established to be a guarantee. Not to mention, after the fiasco of the Quidditch Cup with the Dark Mark, the fear for the Dark Lord was already high.

The Ministry of Magic, understatedly, would not stand for it. And by the pale complexion of Crouch's face, he knew exactly the bind they were in. 

They had to attend the lecture of Dark Arts at the very least to save face. And at the very most to continue diplomatic relations. Since Durmstrang also taught the subject and were North enough to not interfere, but they were not as bold to teach it when they were on Hogwarts' grounds. Karkaroff was a traitor, but not a suicidal one.

The Potions Master glared at his Headmaster. And it was far too late to invite the Beauxbatons.

"Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Kuroko." Dumbledore replied genially before the shadow nodded. "Any other questions?"

Silence, as the tanned Japanese one shrugged, while the captain shook his head, as he looked at them with mocking mirth.

This was planned. Snape realized. They planned to make them uncomfortable.

The cause of this tension stared blankly while Krum and the rest of Durmstrang kept their mouths. Dismissed, the students left, leaving the adults in an empty hall.

After the doors closed, Dumbledore rose an eyebrow at his Japanese friend. "Your students are a very... interesting bunch, Shinta."

Oh, you have no idea.

Chapter Text

The following morning was, as the universe proclaimed for all first days of school, obnoxiously happy. For no student who held any sanity, gods-forbid, awoke early. Hence the gathering of Japanese students in the Great Hall.

Dressed in the traditional uniforms in exchange for their formal ones, schedules were handed out and protests of changes promptly shutdown as the lure of breakfast took over. In the center of the chaos and having the place to themselves since it seemed none of the Durmstrang or Hogwarts students awoke at the brink of dawn, the conversation went something like this:

"We should be done with classes and be heading to practice right now, not going to school! My beauty sleep schedule is all messed up now!" Kise whined as Aomine grumbled a hum of agreement at the first statement, dozing off, nearly face-planting into his plate of carefully-selected breakfast meats only. 

"Are you not looking forward to classes, Kise-kun?" Kuroko questioned from his quiet corner, eating a pastry. Mmm, vanilla. Shaking his head at the phantom, the blonde smiled like an eager puppy, nearly spill his sweet smoothie.

"Not if I get to be in the same classes as Kurokocchi~!" Grabbing the phantom in a bone-crushing hug, whose protests for his freedom, was lost in the blonde's happy coos.

"Oi, Kise. Let go of Tetsu!" Rest in pieces, muffin platter.

"Idiots. I hope you all realize there are still others who are still sleeping at this hour, Kise. Let go of Kuroko before Aomine throws a fit, not that I care." Midorima said, holding a bag of nougat-seasoned seaweed in his hand and the other nursing a cup of tea, frowning at the fallen muffins.

"So mean, Midorimacchi~!" He was still hugging Kuroko. Who was debating whether or not Kise's face deserved a muffin to the face. He was leaning to the former.

"Please let me go, Kise-kun." It was muffled, but it was the shadow speaking. His hand hovered over a muffin. Almost there.

"You heard him, Kise! Let him go, you clingy bastard. And I do not throw fits, you tsundere!"  So close.

The green-haired shooting guard opened his mouth to retort when a "Mido-chin, can I have some~?", from Murasakibara, pointing to his lucky item with a forked sausage. 

Midorima stared at the utensil as if it had personally offended him. "No."

"Good morning, everyone." Turning to the voice, the five found their captain with a half-smile, his ruby eyes gleaming with amusement as Kuroko used the distraction to deal a jab to Kise's side to let him go instead of his desired muffin.

Maybe next time. One day. Kuroko promised.

All ignoring Kise's protest of pain, Akashi neared them, seating himself beside the phantom. "I presume all of you looked at your schedules?"

Nodding, the six of them compared schedules.

"What the hell is 'Potions' and 'Charms'?"

"Ah, it appears that Hogwarts does not teach, Alchemy or Talismans and Arrays. In their place, they teach Potions and Charms. Potions is merely the chemical aspect of Alchemy, while Charms is magic specific to the wand. To answer your question, Daiki." Akashi answers while frowning at his plate, before pushing a plate of greens towards the ace. With a risen brow at his direction, the protests died in Aomine's throat.

"Ehh, how will they know the mechanisms of the components if they are just learning how to make the potions?" Murasakibara frowned, affronted at the shorted subject. "Wonder if they teach on parts of why and how of it rather than just what, Aka-chin."

Akashi shrugged, black coffee steaming in hand. "We shall find out in a few hours."

"I have Divination! Maybe we can use cinnabar and talismans in there, Midorimacchi!" Kise cut in, pointing how his and Midorima's schedules matched.

"I doubt it." Midorima frowned. "The West was more attuned to crystal orbs, tarot cards, and tea readings while we are more of astrology, physiognomy, geomancy and bone-reading. Not to say their methods are not accurate, but just different."

"Which is why we must keep an open mind, Midorima-kun." Kuroko nodded, still eating the same pastry he was working on for a few minutes now. "Just because they differ in methods, it does not mean their methods are not useful. We have yet to see them for ourselves, therefore, we must withhold judgement until then."

"Fair enough, Tetsuya." Akashi acquiesced. "However, we should not hold our expectations too high."

"Why not, Akashicchi?"

Akashi points to his temple. "It appears that the gods are not all too fond of the 'lackadaisical' and 'free' methods of the West."

Aomine rolls his eyes, ignoring the incoming lecture in the back of his mind. "They can stuff it. A bunch of old coots, too old to even know what the hell it means to be alive anymore."

"But they haven't lead us astray before, Aomine-kun. They are on our side."

Grumbling but not disagreeing, the ace sulked. "Don't you lecture me too, Tetsu."

Kuroko was unsympathetic. "Where is Momoi-san?"

"Ah. Sat-chin is busy with something. Aka-chin had some thing for her."

Akashi-kun is having Momoi-san look into several figures already. Kuroko hummed as he met eyes with his captain. As expected of Akashi-kun. 

Akashi rose an eyebrow but did not say anything as he merely smiled and added a spoon to his black coffee.

Kuroko found himself in Potions later that morning accompanying Murasakibara, who had an armful of Japanese snacks, ignoring the many stares at the tall Japanese, who had his hair up in a high tail.

"Ne, Kuro-chin." Murasakibara called out as they seated themselves at a lab station, intended for pairs. "What was it that Aka-chin wanted us to do here again?"

"Akashi-kun had requested that we observe our Hogwarts counterparts on their abilities." Kuroko answered, taking in the classroom, waiting for the course to begin. Experimental mixes, Kuroko eyes within the cabinets. "Please do not eat while in this class, Murasakibara-kun."

Crushing a still half-wrapped maibo in his mouth, the giant whined. "Eh? But Kuro-chin~!"

"Lab safety appears to apply in this English-equivalent of Alchemy as well, Murasakibara-kun."

Following the phantom's line of sight, Murasakibara hummed as he notes assortment of Potions ingredients.

Crude but it does the trick if careful enough. The giant thinks to himself, silently placing his snacks into his bag as a soft hum echoes in his mind.

But still rather premature, Atsushi. She drawls, like she was half-asleep.

The center ignores her as Snape enters with a brooding stride, mildly reminding him of a grumpy Mido-chin if he was emo.

A scowl was affixed upon his sneering face, looking like he despised he was here. Murasakibara sympathized. He didn't want to be here at this school of pig acne neither. 

He was a bit shorter than Kise, Kuroko observed, his robes a never ending ebony while his glare was intimidating and serious. Skin pale when shoulder-length black hair framing his face, the Potions Master turned to his class.

"Within the period to see how much your skills have derailed from the previous year, brew the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons that was instructed in the third year. Some of you may benefit from this assignment if you do so correctly, for once. You may begin."

Internally affronted at the rude tone of the professor, Kuroko said nothing as he turns to his partner. From he could recall, the Potion or in their terms, Antidote, in question was a Class I - not very difficult to brew but challenging enough for those below Third String to struggle with it. 

Silently, Murasakibara readies their station, setting two pewter cauldrons under the burner, glancing at the opened Magical Drafts and Potions textbook before frowning. Kuroko checked off the list of ingredients soundlessly beside him — billywig stings, fire seed, graphorn horn, and chizpurfle carapaces.

All present.

The hell. The purple giant drawled internally, as he crushed the graphorn horn against one another, immediately breaking into powder, to each of the cauldrons instead of grounding it with a pestle, before allowing it to bubble under a high heat. This is only a Class I potion. What is this? I thought that by the Fourth Year, these English people would have gotten to the harder parts.

To be fair, Atsushi, it is review from their Third-Year.

Murasakibara was not kind. I invented harder Elixirs than this when I was below Third String and without you.

"Their curriculum appears to be a bit lenient compared to our own, Murasakibara-kun, but that does not mean we should disregard their efforts." Kuroko stated as Murasakibara was taken from the conversation with his goddess as they glanced to the rest of the room. He was long used to Kuro-chin's sixth sense for his thoughts.

The Boy Who Lived and the red-headed boy beside him appeared to be having trouble as they added the billywig stings too early, making the potion turn colorless and the powdered horn float out of the potion while another brown-haired boy had accidentally allowed the fire seed too close to the burners and had a mini explosion, leading to himself and his partner to be sent to the Hospital Wing.

Murasakibara was mildly appalled. Where was the lab safety in this alchemy class? Gloves? Flame-retardant aprons? Goggles? Gods, it was a miracle that these Western Wizards were not dead yet.

The only reason he and Kuro-chin forwent them was because he was the Master of Alchemy and Kuro-chin was the Master of Dark Arts — it took much worse than a Class I to mark his robes.

"Even if it may be comical to witness first-hand." Kuroko finished, taking him from his thoughts again.

Murasakibara stared at the deadpan smaller teen before huffing. "It's not even comical, Kuro-chin. Just annoying. What a pain."

"We are only here to observe, Murasakibara-kun. Not judge." Too late. His goddess snickered. He ignored her.

"Hai, hai. Ne, Kuro-chin, I'm going to make something else." He couldn't snack. But with the materials here, he might as well multitask a bit. And send a message.

"As long as you don't make a mess, Murasakibara-kun. And not eat anything until you have finished cleaning up."

"Hai~"

Finished with their potions with only needing to allow a slow boil until the appearance of a luminescent green, Kuroko had taken to resume his observations while Murasakibara busied himself with his newest concoction under a new burner, as he stirred a red brew that was quickly turning yellow.

Snape was making rounds, scolding a Gryffindor there and sneering at another one here, when he paused at the sight of Murasakibara, who was seemingly alone in his own station, the Potions Master's thoughts trailing to the Council.

They were children, much like his own students. Students that were apparently proficient enough by the Mahoutokoro hierarchy that they were enough to replace the Japanese professors to be left back in the homeland. Adding that their Headmaster's claim that the seven of them were Gifted in their own way even outside of the field pitch.

He had two of them in his class this morning along with a few of the other students of Mahoutokoro. Every one of them brewed the antidote correctly without a single flaw, bizarrely dressed in aprons, gloves and goggles. But they did not appear to be Muggle-craft as some of the Hogwarts students curiously asked why they were wearing such heavy protective gear.

"It is a lab safety in Mahoutokoro." A girl answered, her red badge gleaming. "Alchemy is not to be conducted without the proper safety regulations. Do you not have the same rules?"

Granger frowned. "No. We simply... wash our hands after Potions."

The girl simply hummed before glancing at her superior. Snape did a double-take before deepening his frown, making his way over. Only one of them decided to attend, did they?

"Mr. Murasakibara."

Looking up from his potion, the young man tilted his head at being addressed. Snape glanced at his side.

Nothing. He was not mistaken. There was no other Mahoutokoro student present. "Could you, as a Council Leader in Mahoutokoro, explain to me why Mr. Kuroko is not present with you, today?"

"I am, Professor. And for students from Mahoutokoro, referring us by just our surname is fine."

At the startled cries and gasps, the students did not see Kuroko as much as Snape, who had flinched ever so slightly at the perfect English, from the sudden appearance of Kuroko Tetsuya, while Murasakibara opened and closed his eyes obnoxiously slow.

"When did you arrive, Kuroko?" Snape scowled. It was as if the boy had no presence at all! "I do not allow tardiness in my classroom."

"I had arrived with Murasakibara-kun several minutes before the period had begun, Professor." Kuroko supplied in a soft monotone as he explained. "I have a very weak presence and I apologize for startling you. It was not intentional."

This time. His goddess giggles. Kuroko admits nothing.

Snape held his scowl as he glanced at the perfect pair of green antidotes along with a curious brow at the purple one. 

Wit-Sharpening Potion, a potion that was difficult for even Sixth Years to brew. And yet… he managed to do so with the time left over in a single period. And it is not featured in Magical Drafts and Potions. 

Akashi had already arrived at the classroom by the time Kuroko had, to which the Council was given to use for instruction, his heterochromic gaze warm as he lifted it from the book he was scanning, Miranda Goshawk's Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. 

The two of them were teaching today. A two lectures with a simple Class II procedure to oversee. If only.

"Tetsuya, you have arrived."

"Domo, Akashi-kun." Kuroko replied, eyeing the room. "Murasakibara-kun wanted me to inform you that he found them to be annoying and a pain in the eyes."

Akashi smiled inwardly. "It appears that our adversaries are weaker than we have anticipated, Tetsuya. Daiki has also expressed his disappointment at the level of mastery in these English wizards while he and I attended Charms, struggling to stay awake. Shintarou informed me that the professor of Divination is not very adept as she should be, so much that Ryota had fallen asleep in her class."

"It is not good to underestimate our opponents, Akashi-kun."

"But of course, Tetsuya. I am merely stating our collective first impressions, nothing more."

"First impressions are misleading, Akashi-kun."

"Ah, but they are still important enough to warrant the effort."

Kuroko conceded the point to his captain before addressing another topic. "This room is much too small."

The redhead hummed his agreement as he snapped his fingers.

The stone walls were pushed back dramatically paper walls replacing them with a warm beige monochrome scheme as the entrance to the room dented a step, disallowing shoes into the room as tatami mats carpeted the floor. The podium was shifted into a small shelf to hold shoes, as the teacher's desk was left untouched. Paper lanterns hung in the ceiling to aluminate with soft candlelight as the desks were swallowed to form the thinner Japanese ones, all stacked in the back.

Akashi and Kuroko stood on a risen step, clearly meant for the lecturer to stand over in addressing students. Kuroko was about to take out some materials when even behind the wooden doors, he heard their teammates arrive.

"Aominecchi! Why would you summon worms into my hair?!" Kise cried from behind the doors. "I hate worms!"

"Because you annoy the shit out of me, Kise." Was Aomine's reasonable reply.

"How mean." The pout in the words was almost pitiful. Almost. But because it was Kise at the butt of the teasing, it wasn't. "Murasakibaracchi, crush Aominecchi!"

"Mm. Why~?" A pause. "Kise-chin is more annoying and noisy to crush."

"Why isn't anyone on my side?! You're all so mean to me!"

"Quiet the three of you! We have arrived." Midorima scolded all of them before the door opened. Kise was, luckily worm-free as they all clamored in.

"Leave your tabi on." Akashi commanded, to the surprise of everyone but Kuroko. Conceding to the odd request, they all seated themselves at the risen pedestal for lecturers, each on a pillow, seated similarly to a panel of judges before an empty classroom. "Before we begin lectures, I had wanted to hear the opinions from the rest of you during this brief lapse of what you think of our Hogwarts cohorts."

"They suck." Aomine began bluntly as the tanned male elaborated with a yawn. "The Hufflepuffs (I think?) in our class were just being introduced to some of the Jinxes that our Third-String can do in their sleep. Or at least, they better be."

"Ours was even worse, Aominecchi!" Kise cried out, his arms waving dramatically, his phone bright with media. "Our Divination professor just made us look into tea cups and crystal balls, even you know how unreliable those practices are. Oh! But she did say that Midorimacchi was wise to believe in Oha-Asa!"

"For once, I would have to agree with the two of you idiots." Midorima grimaced. To everyone but Kise's surprise, from Akashi's risen brow to Aomine's surprised gape, Midorima was usually fond to the rare fellow Oha-Asa believer.

For him to spite another believer was almost unheard of. Until now.

"Despite her correct action in believing Oha-Asa, the Fourth Years were being introduced to dream interpretations. Along with Kise's premonition, the professor had concluded that at least half of the class would die suddenly within the year."

"What did she say of your dream interpretation, Midorima-kun?" Kuroko voiced. There was nothing that the professor had done was offending so far.

"That I would eventually die from an excessive obsession of my lucky items, therefore, effectively cause my bad luck to kill me due to paranoia."

Ah. There it is.

His goddess mock-winced, giggling. Toyotama would not take kindly to such an offense. At all.

Please do not antagonize my friends. Kuroko replied as she hummed.

Ignoring Midorima's grip on his eccentrically flavored seaweed, Kuroko continued to question as Aomine and Kise had (read: forced to have) the tact to hold back their sniggers.

"And what was your reply, Midorima-kun?"

"That she would burn in hell for believing that Oha-Asa would lead to me such a fate and that she was not a true believer herself if she was ignorant of the need to dispose of the former lucky item before the beginning of the following day." Midorima stated with cool anger before smirking darkly behind his glasses.

How dare that mortal... The shooter's goddess growled as Midorima silenced her.

"Pisces were predicted to give me trouble and annoyances today but this is testing more than just my patience. But Oha-Asa was careful to advise that non-believers would be sorely punished. Someday."

"How about you, Kurokocchi? How was Al— I mean, Potions. — with Murasakibaracchi?" Kise changed the subject as they turned to the phantom.

"Snape-sensei had instructed for the two of us to brew a Class I potion." Kuroko stated simply as he paused. "Murasakibara-kun brewed a Class III potion as well, afterwards."

While implying that the class may have needed it to increase their intelligence by Murasakibara-kun of all people.

His goddess snickered as he decided to omit that tidbit of information.

Akashi smirked at him as if knowing his actions, changing the subject. "Flitwick-sensei was impressed that Daiki had countered every student's Summoning Charm with a single wave of his hand, charging his magic on his fingertips. I don't believe any of them had ever seen our type of magic before."

"Can we sit in on your and Kurokocchi's class, Akashicchi?" Kise asked, a mischievous glint in his amber eyes as the rest of them have already appeared to make themselves comfortable in their classroom.

Akashi smirked knowingly before replying. "Of course, Ryota. Though it could be a bit crowded."

"As in the invitation that Kuroko so graciously gave last night, Akashi?"

"Shogi is all about the set up and foundation for the victory, Shintarou." Akashi teased lightly as the vice captain scowled. "Intimidation can go for miles within an opponent's psyche."

All of you should know.

After lunch, Snape was accompanied by more than several prominent figures of the halls of the school. Dumbledore, who was having a conversation with Sprout was followed by him and Karkaroff who were content in walking in silence, followed by Matsumoto and Flitwick, with Trelawney in the rear — all of them headed towards one classroom.

The one attended by the Japanese students.

It was all the other students seemed to speak of this morning. Whether it be the prowess in brewing a powerful potion in half the time instructed or easily interrupting a charm before it could be fully executed with a wandless magic, they all centered on the colorful Gifted. Even Divination was not spared, as Trelawney was apparently aghast at the use of cinnabar and astrology that the Japanese employed, rather than crystal orbs and tea.

Snape felt a headache come over his senses. And this one was not caused by Potter or even any Weasley.

Instead, it was Matsumoto's chaotic and colorful brats.

Entering, Snape took in the modifications with a lack of reaction unlike the mixture of students, mostly Japanese with Hogwarts students and a few Durmstrang scattered among them, as they all took a seat. Professors were gestured to the dais, joining the other four brats that was not the red captain or the invisible one, off to the side, by still acknowledged to be a level above the students — physically and literally.

"Welcome to our classroom." Akashi smiled diplomatically to all, standing before them all beside Kuroko. "We would like to thank our hosts for allowing us to use a part of their facility and welcome each of you. Firstly, as per customs in Japan, we would like to request all entrants after today and onward that in coming to our classroom, to remove their shoes upon entrance.

Today is an exception, as the first day, please allow me to make introductions for the new faces present today. I am known as Akashi Seijuurou and this is Kuroko Tetsuya. We will be lecturing you all today, on Divination and the Dark Arts respectively."

A golden ring adorned the boy's right ring finger, as Snape noticed the same accessory on all of their fingers. Knowing from his observations of the Council, the Potions Master doubted that it was a group accessory upon a whim. It wasn't.

"You may address us by our surnames, which is before our given names when I introduced ourselves. It is considered impolite in our country to address anyone by their given name upon the first meeting or before explicit permission." Akashi explained (read: obligated without choice lieu of diplomatic relations).

The Mahoutokoro students bore either a red or black crest on their chest. Snape noted quietly as Akashi began his lecture. It was on Divination, but entirely different from the teachings of Sybil Trelawney as the young man divulged in geomancy — bone reading in particular.

"Bone reading is the practice of reading bones of the dead for the sake of premonitions. They can be for others or one's self. However, unlike the art that is commonly described in throwing the bones into a marked circle, the bone reading I will teach today is not so crude and random." The young man snaps his fingers, as a set of bones appears before him on a table, high enough for all to see. "The bones, in question, have several criteria. First, they must be human."

More than several people blanched at that sentence. Realizing that the bones before them was the remains of someone that breathed and lived once.

Akashi continues, unperturbed. "They do not necessarily have to be from a certain individual, ningen or not, it does not matter. Age of the individual is no difference neither, though, the bones of newborn are often fragile and are harder to read. due to their size but are still functional."

Snape is uncomfortable with the subject matter not that it shows. But on Potter and everyone else (read: Hogwarts and Durmstrang), it is more obvious.

"What does, however, is that the bones must be older than a full four years."

A hand goes up. It is Granger. "Why?"

"Our ancestors have determined the number four is a cursed number in our customs. It is a number that is associated with death and curses, therefore, if you were to bone-read with bones that were exactly four years, it would be no longer be a practice of Divination but of the Dark Arts." Akashi answers, turning to Kuroko, who is seated with them. "And that particular practice would be Tetsuya's line of work."

A heavy silence develops but not enough for it grow awkward as the captain smoothly returned to the lecture material, speaking of more requirements for the correct bones.

The bones could be from differing persons as long as it was in multiples of three, they did not have to be dry necessarily as blood-covered ones were perfectly usable, teeth and small bones were passable but like the infant remains, it may have been harder to read; in all, succeeding in making a certain population of the room very uncomfortable. But darkly fascinated at the same time.

If Akashi's hold over the audience was any indication. Snape even spied Dumbledore in full attention, twinkling eyes captivated.

"In the actual reading, the bones are vague like most of this practice. Often foretelling of challenges of an individual, rather than any miscellaneous information such as love." Akashi informs them, actions mimicking his instructions. "A fire within a brazier is most often used, but an large open flame would do as long as you are able to visually able to see the bone. Three bones are required for each person; symbolizing the reading of the three states — birth, life, and death. Each reflected on each bone."

Akashi gestured to three he had chosen. An ulna, a metacarpal, and a mandible free of teeth.

"They are to be thrown in chronological order and by the person that wishes for their fate to be foretold. Observe the cracks that form over the bones, which are the entire practice of bone-reading. If you miss the fire, you cannot try again nor restart for the ritual is incomplete and interrupted. The bones do not necessarily need to be thrown in succession, but within the same day is best for accurate readings."

With a flick of his wrist, a brazier appears and the ulna is thrown in. Under the pressure and high heat, the bone cracks spectacularly within a few seconds, breaking apart with fissures of dried marrow appearing. They are mostly contained within the metal bin that was transparent through thin windows, with several splinters flaking the students in front. One of the Gryffindors who was unlucky enough to be there looked like he was going to be sick as one lands on his desk.

"Refer to the assigned textbook for interpretation based on what you have witnessed today and configure an essay on your findings based on the cracks of the first bone. I expect the essay by next week."

Snape unconsciously straightened with the rest of Hogwarts as Akashi waved for his phantom to take the stage.

For it was his turn to teach. The Dark Arts. Magic that was created for the sole purpose of harming others. 

Chapter Text

Kuroko takes the stage as expected of him.

Silent and unseen. For once they take notice of him, he is already before the podium. With a snap of fingers — Akashi's — the table and his materials for bone-reading are gone with the desks, stacked away for proper keeping. Instead, every student is left seated in chairs, equidistant from one another.

The Hogwarts and Durmstrang students are surprised while the ones from Mahoutokoro do not even flinch.

"As you are all aware," Kuroko begins softly but firm. "The Dark Arts is a greatly debated topic."

Severe understatement. Snape sneers. But fair.

Kuroko continues. "But is it the fault of the knife for being sharpened or is it the fault of the wielder that killed with it? All power and magic is dependent on the user's intentions, whether they be good or bad. And even then, that does not tell all.

The ability to harm another person, is it your right to exercise because you can? Most moral-adept persons in their right mind may say that it is not. However, what if it is at the expense of your loved ones? Or better yet, their happiness?"

What will you do for the sake of those you love? Kuroko Tetsuya asks them. What are you willing to do?

What do you think you are willing to do? And more importantly, what can you do?

The room is silent. Everyone hypnotized by the words of the Dark Arts Master. Who Snape slowly realized to be the least expected person.

Such a thoughtful, young man. The Master of Dark Arts?

If Kuroko is bothered by the silence, he doesn't give it away.

"The Dark Arts gives you this burden. The burden to choose when to use it.

It is the knife you will sharpen with your abilities. And you are the wielder, moral or not. It is your decision to exercise.

But I have forewarned you all, it is a knife that is not loyal - for it will cut into their wielder if you do not craft a hilt for you to wield it properly. And with every stab of your knife, it will not only be your enemies' blood that stains the blade."

Warning finished, Kuroko officially begins his lesson. "The Dark Arts spans all six other fields of magic, it is when the magic wielded has no other benefit outside of the expense of the target.

In Divination, it is to curse another with dreams with geomancy until they are driven mad. In Transfiguration, it is conjuration of beings that we, as a species, should not create with our wildest imaginations. In Alchemy, it is the solutions that make death a merciful alternative. In Talismans and Arrays, it is when they are used to attract evil instead of purging it. In Magic History, it is the stories that are forbidden, hidden by those who fear the knife itself.

Even in Defense Against the Dark Arts, it is that extra step — that most can tell themselves to not overstep. Tempting you with visceral satisfaction of your enemies vanquished."

Snape's expression darkens as do most of the professors for the boy's words, as hard they were to hear, were true.

And everyone knew it.

"The one I shall go into depth today is the foundations of the Dark Arts." The phantom regales as a mannequin appears across from him as those blank blue globes narrow. "Because without malicious intent, the Dark Arts is useless to learn. For if you have no intention to harm, the magic will not respond. It feeds off resentment, anger and intent to destroy without reason."

"Fortunately," Kuroko ignores the pale faces and slight shaking. "All of us are also human. To say that none of us have never felt such a thing — is a lie. Even the kindest souls hold resentment for something or someone. It is not shameful nor is it something to take pride in. It is merely human."

"The amount that each person holds varies obviously." The phantom points to the mannequin. "And to determine just how much you all hold in this moment of time, this will Transfigure into the being your hold the least resentment towards, to which you will attack it with Dark Magic.

Hogwarts and Durmstrang students will not be allowed to use any of the Unforgivable Curses as mandated by your law; any other hexes and jinxes will do. Mahoutokoro will not be allowed to use any magic above a Class III."

And with a wave of a tanned hand, the faux dolls appear before each student. Blank.

The Hogwarts are frozen for a few seconds before they gather themselves while the Durmstrang students are relatively better — wands out. While the Mahoutokoro students are tense, varying weapons on their hands, some with paper talismans, some with their hands glowing with magic circles and others with folded hands ready.

Then the real horror begins.

Because they were lied to. It is not the person they hold the least resentment towards. It is the most.

Some of the dolls turn into understandable people. Absent parents, who saw their children less than their phones. Childhood bullies, who told them how worthless they were. People who have wronged them, telling them that their suffering was worth the entertainment.

Some are worse. Like Potter who faces a shadow of the Dark Lord. (Snape flinches with Karkaroff despite themselves.) Or Malfoy who faces against his father. Or the Japanese girl who is sneered at by her drunk father. Or the Japanese boy who cries out at his hanging mother.

"Gather yourselves." Kuroko's monotone voice commands them, cold and firm, yet strangely hypnotizing. "They hurt you. Is it not only fair...?"

For you to hurt them back?

Snape watches, stuck in the sidelines as students succumb to the temptation. The other professors are just as frozen.

Draco shouts with teary eyes at his father, steel glare vengeful and hurt as the same eyes of his inheritance sneer at him for his incompetence. Potter yells gutturally, curses and hexes spilling from his lips as he watches the Dark Lord writhe with mocking laughter over the bodies of his parents. Granger cries as she stomps over the Death Eater that holds her limp Muggle family on a leash, wand digging under his cold smile. Krum crushes the doll that takes the form of a woman who coos at him to cool his anger, only serving to infuriate him further.

The students of Mahoutokoro, somehow by some kind of higher power Snape does not believe in, are worse.

One girl stares coldly as her absent mother bleeds from every orifice, after she utters a curse. Another one stares blankly as her former bully's head rolls around, eyes as glazed as her own. A boy manifests a yellow magic circle under his feet before he meticulously tears off each offending limb from a young lady his age, deaf to her screaming.

It is a bloodbath of nightmares.

And like a train wreck, Snape can't look away. Until suddenly with a clap, the dolls are gone.

"Well done." Kuroko says in the dead silence. To the awed audience of traumatized children, horrified professors and unfazed Council. The praise is hollow. And they know it.

"Forgive the lie. But if you cannot use Dark Magic properly before the people who have the most control over you, how will you do the same safely with those who are most important to you?" The mannequin before Kuroko morphs.

In the corner of his eye, Snape sees the Council flinch.

It is beautiful woman, a goddess really, for she held no flaws upon her painted face. Hair as ebony as night and loose, purple robes framing her body as a red obi holds up her yukata, tempting to any man. Her cold red eyes stared back at the Master of Dark Arts with clear amusement. Like he was her toy.

"If you cannot follow simple instructions when you are clouded with anger," Kuroko begins as the woman beckons him close. He does not obey. "How will you be aware of the lives around you to control the Dark Magic you wield? And how will you defeat them with it, when you are too busy to see that someone else is trying to kill who you love?"

The dolls reappear one by one, as they reveal what the students did not see.

Lucius Malfoy shakes before his sworn lord, regret burning in his eyes as he bodily shields his son from the Dark Lord's gaze. The Dark Lord is writhing under the glare of sweet Lily, holding infant Harry close to her bosom as his curse travels to her — defiant and so strong even in the face of death. Granger's parents, oblivious as they are, still stand between their daughter and the Death Eater who threatens them for information on their remarkable daughter. Krum stares wide eyed, at the woman who raised him, strict and harsh yet manipulatively kind.

The absent mother leaves behind an inheritance. The bully is a beaten child within his own drunk-infested home. The young lady is unable to feel, to love nor care.

"Each person has a tale, every story has two sides." Kuroko finishes, ignoring his own doll, who coos over him. "The choice someone who wields the Dark Arts has to make is, whether or not, it truly is deserved. For with every harm you cause, you also lose a part of yourself as well."

And with his words, the doll who drapes herself over him bursts into flames. Screaming in Japanese, curses and obscenities as her flesh burns, filling the room with the sight. As Kuroko Tetsuya watches, unmoved.

"And sometimes, you don't have any other choice but lose it all."

No. Snape thinks to himself. Looking at his first love. No, you don't.

Harry and Ron laughed heartily as Fred and George were sent to the Hospital Wing with white beards after their failed attempt of overcoming Dumbledore's Age Line with the use of an Aging Potion, much to Hermione's exasperation. It was almost time for the announcement of the champion teams, as nearly all of the students from Mahoutokoro and Durmstrang had arrived, eager to hear the results as well as escape the thunderstorm in the outskirts of the room.

Speaking of the other schools, the first week of Hogwarts was the most eventful Harry had ever experienced. And he found the Chamber of Secrets with one (and a half) wand, Ron and a fraud of a professor.

After the first day, the lessons taught by Mahoutokoro was the most talked about topic. The morbid yet practical methods of the Japanese fascinated the students, who were excited to see more. Especially if the first day was using human bones and the foundations of Dark Arts, what could the rest of the week hold for them?

Naturally, they were not disappointed.

Alchemy under the purple giant was weird and explosive. ("Follow the instructions. But you're allowed to experiment, if you are up for all of the consequences, that is." The half-lidded gaze glances at a mix Kuroko dropped off for him, spewing ominous smoke. None of them dare.) 

For Murasakibara did not allow a single person who did not obey lab safety rules into his class. Anyone who violated any of them was literally thrown out of the room with a wave of his hand.

Talismans and Arrays was fascinating and strangely difficult. For their blonde professor was friendly, but strict.

Mistakes were not tolerated for a single brushstroke changed the spell, and the medium of writing varied as many liquids they had available. ("Blood is often the best. Even better if they are from your enemies, if you are paying attention in Dark Arts!")

Defense Against the Dark Arts was entirely physical. Harry had never been so sore.

The class pointed out things he hand never considered before. ("What if your arms are cut off? What if your tongue is gone? What will you do? Beg for your life, as he kills you?" Aomine sneers down at them, immobilized and at his mercy. Harry knows some Hogwarts students needed a change of pants.)

Transfiguration was similar to the Hogwarts one, only Midorima was more dynamic than McGonagall's methods.

Summons of animals to one's command was exhausting and a branch Harry had never heard of. (Midorima cradles a small dragon as if it were a puppy, bespectacled eyes unimpressed as he stares down Trevor, Neville's toad. "...I suppose it will do." He mutters when Neville manages to not kill Trevor in his multiplication spell. But somehow grow four times his original size.)

To his astonishment, the Japanese students also have classes on the weekends, with the only girl in the Council, teaching on the first day of the week. She is as beautiful as the boys under her care are handsome. Outside of Cho.

And with a terrifying methodology of her own as she teaches Magic History. Unlike Binns, she is aware when students are not paying attention. ("Ronald Bilius Weasley, who peed in his bed until he was five, if you would please inform us of the lesson to be learned in creating the Unforgivable Curses?" Harry had never seen his friend so embarrassed.)

Yet, despite the attention, none of the Council appeared to be integrated with anyone outside of the seven of them. Even with other Mahoutokoro students, the distance was maintained.

When inquired about it, the other Mahoutokoro students merely shrugged. (It has always been like this. Akashi-san and the rest of them... are different.)

Durmstrang were reserved in their own way as well, often hanging out amongst themselves or with Mahoutokoro over conversations that occurred over the summer during the World Cup. While, Hogwarts, being the host school played diplomat to the best of their ability, careful to not overstep for the past month.

(Such as the protests from the Ministry of Magic over the Dark Arts being taught at Hogwarts, shut down by a legislation that stated it as a result of the Triwizard Cup. 

Harry heard this tidbit from Hermione, who was like the rest of them, terrified after the Dark Arts lesson. But, at the same time, it was nice. To not be coddled like the children they were.)

Shouts took him from his thoughts as five figures caught his eye.

Dressed out of uniform, the five — er, six — of them were just as imposing in training clothing consisting of similar themes of basketball shorts, sweaters, and shoes. Their wet locks of respective color were damp, indicating that they were fresh from the baths, stood before their Goblet of Fire.

Of course. Harry thought to himself with trepidation. Of course, the Cup would attract the most promising team of players in Quidditch, according to Fred and George, into participating in the tournament. That was the sole reason that the two of them were so desperate to use a potion to enter, to gauge how they could have played against them and Krum.

Harry understood the thrill that called to the Seeker within him.

But something warned Harry into pause.

The same pause that came to him when it came to speaking to Snape. And all of his previous DADA professors.

One by one, they entered their names. And there was no one present that doubted any of them from participating. It was like saying that Krum was to not destined to face them once again after his defeat just before the Finals. 

After a feast of candies — so many sweets that made Murasakibara nearly faint upon appearance — and pumpkin juice on All Hallow's Eve, all of the students of Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Mahoutokoro gathered under the candlelight in the Great Hall.

It was the event that would spring the highlight of the year, none would dare to miss this. Seated with his House, Harry watched in anticipation as Dumbledore stepped up to the three Goblets of Fire, lifted to a high pedestal at the center of the Great Hall, one for each school. 

Hogwarts was in the center, wooden and heavy in appearance — sturdy. To the left was Durmstrang, the goblet of hardened iron, dull yet impenetrable as white-blue flames licked at it's edges with a cold glare unlike the warm tongues of Hogwarts. And to the right, was Mahoutokoro, a version of embellished gold, curvatures lined with small jewels as it almost mocked participants to have the gall and audacity to place their names in the fiery embers.

The representation of each school in the form of the goblets were too intentional to be coincidental, Hermione said in Hagrid's that afternoon when the tournament came up in conversation — there was more than just the reward she suspected.

But Harry merely shrugged with Ron, oblivious.

Quidditch, whether there was something more or not, it was something that he wouldn't miss for the world. Regardless of alternative motives. Look at what happened at the World Cup, for gods' sake.

"Now the moment you've all been waiting for: the champion team selection!" And with a wave of his hands, the torches that lit the hall dimmed as the Headmaster's hands past them, flooding the room with a soft glow.

At their table, the Kiseki no Sedai watched attentively with their school as the Headmaster of Hogwarts had chosen to introduce the team for Durmstrang first.

With a wave of Dumbledore's hand over it's lip, the flames flashed ruby, signifying that the goblet had chosen and had done so well. Appearing with a singed corners of coarsely torn parchment was the name — Viktor Krum, followed by the players — Ivan Poliakoff, Alexei Levsei, Pyotr Vukchanov, Lev Zograf, and Vasily Dimitrov — his team, or at least the ones near his age, that were with him in the Quidditch World Cup.

Erupting into cheers, the Durmstrang champion team roared with their school and the polite claps of the two others as they stepped up, clearly built and eager to participate as they each shook Dumbledore's hand, making their way to the room for the chosen champions.

As they left, Harry internally winced at the prospect of Hogwarts' best playing against one of the best teams in the world.

Not to mention the actual champions as well.

Speaking of them, the room once more befell to a silence as Dumbledore neared the golden goblet.

Bursting into a ruby hue like Durmstrang's, the flames released an elegantly folded note, smoking slightly as the Headmaster caught it. Harry saw that note. And the five others that followed it earlier.

The silence was thick as the names was announced by the Headmaster — "… is Akashi Seijuurou followed by — Aomine Daiki, Midorima Shintarou, Murasakibara Atsushi, Ryota Kise and Kuroko Tetsuya!"

Clapping and cheers formed in wild cries as the five six stood in acknowledgement, shaking their host Headmaster's hand before being gestured to the room for champions. No one noticed the slight frown on the Master of Dark Arts, before he turned away, following his friends. The anomaly wasn't on his school's goblet anyway.

Moving to the final goblet, the Headmaster read off the names.

"And finally, the champion team for Hogwarts is… Cedric Diggory, followed by — Roger Davies, Angelina Johnson, Oliver Wood, Marcus Flint and Graham Montague!" After gesturing for the team to join the other two out the Great Hall, Dumbledore smiled as he held out his arms in pride.

"Excellent! We now have our three champion teams! But in the end, only one will go down in history." Dumbledore paused, hands curled as Barty Crouch entered with a cloaked object, setting it in the center of the elevated steps for professors. "Only one will hoist this chalice of champions… this vessel of victory…"

Turning, the Headmaster pointed as the object was unveiled. "… the Triwizard Cup!"

With a pale blue glow, the trophy of Quidditch gleamed victoriously, the neck an illustrious silver with meticulously carved dragon arms, their maws snarling into the depths of the cup, as three pure crystal windows glistened at the front with the words of the tournament — TRI-WIZ-ARD, clapping ensuing with loud cheers.

When suddenly, the flames of the center goblet danced wildly, silencing everyone present in the Great Hall, as a silver of parchment danced out of the flames like all of the others before it, only this time bearing the name of a student that was well-underage to participate.

Harry Potter.

Well. So much for a normal year.

Seated on a couch with the rest of his team, in a spacious room with many glowing trophies in the light of a centerpiece fireplace — gold, silver and bronze — Aomine lounged on the floor as he laid out comfortably, ignoring the Durmstrang team across from them. His shadow was seated daintily behind him beside Akashi, both of them stoic as Aomine was easily able to read that his captain was doing his best impression of a kind (Ha.) captain while Tetsu was just observing. On the other side of Akashi was Midorima, muttering something under his breath most likely at Murasakibara's constant eating behind the couch, favoring to stand — with sweets from the earlier feast — while Kise grinned with just as much arrogance as he did beside the titan.

Ah, psychological warfare, at it's best.

While they did not like Quidditch and it was most certainly not basketball, the six of them still had their pride, not to mention, a hatred for losing.

So, you still have some semblance of honor, don't you, boy? A gruff voice huffs at him.

Shut up, old man. I'm trying to ignore the Bulgarians and you.

Across from them, seated with stoic yet intimidating demeanors was the Durmstrang team — all stiff and tense unlike the relaxed Kiseki. And between the two teams was the Hogwarts' champions, a mixture of the four House Teams — clearly nervous to going against participants in the World Cup from both teams but tried to hold their nerves by their own right, stuck in the middle.

The silence was understandably uncomfortable.

Fortunately, the black gates that deemed entry into the room were opened with groan as a fourteen-year-old Harry Potter stepped in, dazed as he walked down the granite steps to the center fireplace to join the Hogwarts' team to the other players' confusion.

Kuroko blinked. So, he wasn't mistaken earlier.

Huh.

"What is the meaning of this?! How dare you—?!"

Viktor Krum perked in confusion as the rest of his team, at the sound of his Headmaster's angered tone.

The hell was going on.

"You sniveling rat." That was Moody's growling voice. "Everything to you is a conspiracy theory!"

Well. He wasn't wrong. Krum shrugged.

"Enough, Alastor! And you, Igor, know better than to outrightly state such a thing!"

Aomine sat up from his lazy loafing at the tone from his Headmaster with the rest of his friends, watching the adults argue like the good entertainment it was. The ace briefly wondered if Murasakibara had popcorn.

"Quiet!" Dumbledore snapped, his demeanor disturbed as he bellowed. "I can't think!"

"Everything to you, is a bloody conspiracy theory!"

"What else could it have been, Mad-Eye!?"

Turning fully at the commotion, the three new teams stared at the stampede of elder witches and wizards, led by their respective headmasters behind a still-shell-shocked Harry Potter. Catching the stiff Harry in his sights, Dumbledore took the boy in his grasp by the shoulders, voice urgent and demanding.

"Harry. Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"

Last time he checked, he wasn't that suicidal, thanks.

"N-No, sir." The poor boy was almost shaking as his team members from Gryffindor observed with pity, Slytherin with scowls, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw with worried glances. The other two teams merely watched, observing. And wishing that they had brought popcorn.

"Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you?"

"No, sir."

"You're absolutely sure?"

Wow, Aomine didn't know Bulgarians could turn into so many colors like Karkaroff did.

"Yes. Yes, sir."

("Are you recording, Midorimacchi?"

"Shut up, Kise."

"And yes, we are, Ryota."

"You're the best, Akashicchi!"

"Shut up, Kise.")

Dumbledore stilled, his thoughts stormy with an expression to match as Karkaroff cut in, clearly unconvinced, ignorant of the whispering behind him. "But of course, he is lying!"

"The hell he is!" Moody rebutted as Dumbledore released the Boy Who Lived. "The Goblet of Fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object. Only an exceptionally powerful Confundus Charm could've hoodwinked it. Magic way beyond the talents of a fourth year!"

Well. No, Hogwarts Fourth Year. Aomine thought, eyeing his shadow. Mahoutokoro, in the other hand...

"You seem to have given this a fair bit of thought. Mad-Eye." The Durmstrang headmaster snapped as Moody's glare darkened at the former Death Eater.

"It was once my job to think as Dark Wizards do, Karkaroff. Perhaps, you remember."

"That is enough, Karkaroff. Alastor." Matsumoto snapped before his colleague could, turning to Moody as well. "The problem at hand is not how Mr. Potter has become a part of the tournament, but that he is. And now that he has, where exactly does it go from here?"

Ah, trust the objective professor to be the voice of reason here.

"… Shinta is correct." Dumbledore nodded before turning to Barty, who was silent throughout. "I leave this to you, Barty."

Bartemius Crouch Sr. glared into the distance in thought before he closes them in resignation.

"The rules are absolute. The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract."

Turning with horrified yet resolute look, the member of the Ministry whispered as all heads turned to the seventh player of the Hogwarts' team. "Mr. Potter has no choice. He is, as of tonight, a Triwizard champion."

Silence reigned supreme as Harry bemoaned internally, his mind filled with pandemonium and swirling with questions that he did not have the answer to.

Across the room, Akashi glanced at each of his team and friends, before they all turned their glances to Krum, nominating him as the best candidate, as if to say, the-adults-are-being-dramatic-and-we-don't-have-time-for-this. 

Catching on, the Bulgarian Seeker nodded. He needed sleep as well.

"Potter is a now a champion." Viktor stated as everyone turned to the Durmstrang team, as if remembering that they were present as well. Feelin' the love there. "What exactly does that mean for us?"

"I would presume that would place Mr. Potter into joining the Hogwarts' team with the proper accommodations from Mr. Crouch. With the uneven team members, it may be unconventional but my team has no protests for the extra team member." Akashi stated before looking at Krum. "And to yours?"

Krum glances at his team. No protests. And then Karkaroff before returning to Akashi. "None."

"Then it is settled." Akashi declares, waving a hand to the stiff Hogwarts team. "Hogwarts shall have seven champions within their team, while we and Durmstrang shall have six each."

Turning to the congregation of elders, the heterochromic teen rose a brow. "Is there anything more that you require for the rest of us to hear of outside of your squabbling?"

Karkaroff huffed as if personally offended while Matsumoto and Dumbledore kept their face composed, although colored with a hint of pensiveness and amusement respectively. Moody was stoic to the words along with Snape and McGonagall, appearing to be relieved with the pause in arguments.

Taking that his cue to speak, Bartemius Crouch Sr. stepped forward with a gesture for Harry to join his Hogwarts' seniors.

"I apologize for such unsightly behavior, but do forgive due to the circumstances that have presented themselves."

Everyone either pretended or did not care that Harry flinched at those words. It was really the latter.

"Your First Task is on the 24th of November, champions. You will all have until then to figure out what it is and prepare for it. Help outside of your group is forbidden and details of your Second Task will be given after the completion of the First Task. As well as due to your participation in the tournament, you will all be exempted from exams at the end of the year. Any questions that you may have, please relay them to me or your respective Headmaster."

As expected, the six of us have been chosen to participate in the tournament. Kuroko thought to himself as he sipped a vanilla milkshake in silence, having decided to turn in early.

The phantom had tried to distract himself with a book, but within a few minutes, it was set aside.

Instead, thoughts upon the night's events ran through Kuroko's mind. 

Harry Potter. 

Everyone had heard about the boy who had made the Dark Lord disappear and how the said lord had almost single-handedly demolished the West. Impressive, but almost did not count.

The only concern of the East was that the Dark Lord did not have the same sentiments towards them. But before that became a true concern, Voldemort was no more.

But other than that, the Boy Who Lived was considered unremarkable. Survived the Western Killing Curse, yes. But the boy was a mere babe at the time. The boy probably had no idea what exactly what it was that made him survive in the first place. And Kuroko suspected that neither did most of the West.

It was not very difficult to put together to Kuroko, for there was very little Dark Magic that was powerful enough to do that. Like the tampering with the Hogwarts goblet, the phantom was not too keen in informing others on topics that he was aware of. Unless asked, of course.

Kuroko sipped his milkshake. And that required them to know to ask.

It was not his place to inform the boy of his… accessory. Intentional or not.

The six of them had their own problems to deal with than to concern themselves with international ones that were frankly none of their business. Being blackmailed for one.

"Tetsu? You in here?" Aomine's voice sounded in the room, poking his head in as navy eyes scanned for his shadow, completely missing him.

Ah, it truly was the small things in life. Milkshakes and Aomine-kun's inability to see him.

His goddess snickered.

"Did you need me for something, Aomine-kun?" Kuroko asked, 'appearing' by his light's side.

"GAH! Tetsu!" Aomine grasped his chest in a mini-heart attack. "Announce your presence dammit, Tetsu! You're going to scare me to death one day!"

"I did." Kuroko blatantly lied. "You didn't hear me, Aomine-kun."

Liar. Izanami giggled at him. He ignored her, knowing she enjoyed it just as much as he did.

Grumbling, Aomine ran a hand through his hair, mumbling an apology before speaking. "Akashi sent me to get you for the meeting. Satsuki's off gathering more data now that the line-ups for the teams are finalized and to find out what's our First Task. Whatever that means."

Nodding, Kuroko followed after Aomine, still drinking his milkshake as they soon arrived at the main hall of the Council's separate wing. Everyone else is seated, awaiting him. "Other than the addition of Potter into the Hogwarts' team, it appears that Momoi-san's predictions were accurate as to who would be chosen as our opponents."

"But is the addition of this so-called Chosen One really going to change anything, Akashicchi?" Kise voiced, skeptical. "I mean, we've gone against seven membered-teams before with only one of us with the default teams in Mahoutokoro. And won."

With ease. His goddess purred.

Bitch. Shut up. Kise growled back.

"On the contrary, Ryota, despite Potter's unexpected entry, it does make the odds more fair in a way for Hogwarts, considering that they are going against the six of us as well as one of the youngest Seekers in Europe." Akashi stated before allowing his hand to cup his chin.

"Although, I cannot say yet whether this move is favorable to us or not."

Aomine blinked at this, surprised. "Oi, Akashi. You mean, you didn't see this coming?"

Akashi smirked at the tanned male with an amused glint in his eyes. "While it flatters me that you think so highly of me, Daiki. No, I did not know that Harry Potter was going to compete against us. Whether he is an asset or a worthy opponent remains to be seen at the moment."

"Information?" Murasakibara suggests, chewing on some mochi. "Can't you just go ask Sat-chin, Aka-chin?"

"I have, Atsushi." Akashi nodded patiently as Midorima sighed as if to resign himself to explain.

"In other words, we do not yet know the extent of Harry Potter's influence or any of the Hogwarts' players for that matter. Since they are new opponents. Durmstrang, in the other hand, is not as worrisome because we have a basic understanding of their tactics and the way they think. Not to mention our match from the Semi-Finals. But since we have barely heard of Hogwarts, we are unprepared."

"Wa, Mido-chin is so smart~" Murasakibara commented offhandedly.

"While our basic tactics are in blatant display, seeing how we cannot put aside our reputation." Kuroko concluded as Akashi nodded, having already known all of this. "Our victory in the World Cup places us at disadvantage if they study us enough."

For everyone had patterns and weaknesses, all it took was to observe them for long enough.

"But that's only if they study us well." Kise hummed, intrigued if the Hogwarts' team was up to challenge. 

Akashi nodded. "Yes, if the groups cooperate and are able to coordinate together as well."

"Eh?" Kise blinked, confused. "Why wouldn't they?

They go to the same school. They have spent the last six years together other than Potter, but even then, that's four years. We've only played together for barely four." 

"Recall that Hogwarts is separated into four Houses, each with it's own Quidditch team." Everyone nodded, following their captain's words with ease. "Apparently, there is more than just rivalry between the Houses.

There is animosity between them — the Houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor, in particular — and as representatives of the school, each of the captains from the teams were selected along with three Gryffindors and one Slytherin. I expect the response from Slytherin was not a good one, nor from any of the other Houses by the unequal numbers."

"It appears that there is Inter-House politics." Kuroko added, finished with his milkshake. "Having been against one another for the past four years, suddenly grouped with four captains with uneven players from their respective Houses, it is a..."

"Clusterfuck." Aomine finished, understanding.

There was too many people who knew only to take charge and would lead to them butting heads more often than them getting along unless some of them were willing to concede. 

Akashi rose a brow. "Crude, but yes, Daiki. Therefore, even with Potter's presence, the Hogwarts' team will be hard pressed to be coordinated. And even if they were able to get past that hurdle, they have another problem."

"Positions." Midorima said as Akashi nodded.

"Indeed. We and Durmstrang already have an understanding of our positions. But Hogwarts does not. As their members consist of three Seekers, one Keeper, two Beaters and one Chaser."

"So, two of them will have to bend and be Chasers for it to work." Kise mused. Changing positions was easy in theory. But there were roles and instinctive reflexes that were ingrained that needed to be broken, mentally and physically. There was a reason Murasakibara did not suddenly change from defense to offense in a game. 

"In any case, the Hogwarts team is not the main issue here. What is, however, is that it has been a while since we have played together outside of training for the World Cup." Akashi developed a devilish smirk that made his friends wary. "Which means more training and practice on our part."

"Akashi." Aomine addressed with a grumble. "No offense or anything, ("Proceeds to offend. OW!" "Shut up, Kise.") but we literally dedicate all of our time into training and practice! Outside of classes, we're either on the pitch or the court."

"That is the point, Daiki. I am informing all of you that this is going to continue."

"I think what Aomine-kun is saying that we have some time for fun, as well, Akashi-kun." Kuroko cut in. "While it is true that training is important, having fun is too."

"That's true!" Kise piped up, before pouting. "Remember on Kurokocchi's birthday? We all, even Murasakibaracchi had a good time just playing together with the rest of us, along with Momoicchi! Even though, Akashicchi somehow won both games."

Smirking at the memory, the ruby-haired captain felt himself concede.

"That much is given, Tetsuya. And for once, you have a point, Daiki and Ryota. But that does not mean you are excused from practice."

"Damn." Aomine cursed.

Chapter Text

Before The World Cup

After a brief meeting and practice, the seven of them had found themselves with some free time, it being summer and their second year on the way in the upcoming fall for high school. While the match itself was not until two days, Momoi had suggested for all of them to go see the country they had come to, to explore and see the sights.

Arriving at Diagon Alley with a transportation talisman courtesy of Kise, they found themselves before a small shop after having dispersed themselves, quaint and humble.

Ollivander's — Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. The sign read.

Glancing at his friends, Kuroko stared for a moment.

Murasakibara-kun had clearly found a sweets shop, from the armfuls of assorted Magick candy in his warm embrace, unwilling to share. While Kise-kun was complaining to Aomine-kun (who was ignoring him) on how his newest set of Western robes (his tenth outfit) were being delayed because the needed dragon fibers were not yet in stock. Aomine-kun appeared to have trailed after Momoi-san, who was updating her intel on Western brooms while Akashi-kun gave no indication of his whereabouts, though his amused glance at Midorima-kun said that the two of them were at the same place.

He, in the other hand, had gone to another alley entirely. Knockturn Alley, a sign read when he entered, unseen. There were significantly less people, but silence was never a problem for him as he wandered, finding many ingredients for Dark Arts.

Odd. Kuroko surmised, picking between two sets of poisonous candles. That the British were so adverse to the Dark Arts, yet allowed for a market for Dark Wizards to flourish. In their own backyards as well.

But then again, it was no business of his.

Entering with the twinkle of a soft bell, the six of them filed in, Kuroko and Akashi at the lead, followed by Kise sneezing  right on Aomine, who glared with an annoyed mutter while the blonde gave a sheepish apology. Murasakibara was busy licking an ice cream he had bought somewhere along the lines of the trip, with a silent grumble about how annoying it was how small the majority of the population was, needing to duck into the entrance.

Midorima tapped the desk bell with a small ding, echoing throughout the room as Kise peered at it. But before any of them could say anything or do of much thank the gods, an elderly wizard stepped in from the back of the store, his silvery eyes crinkling at the ends with a smile as he welcomed them into his shop.

"Oh my." He smiled friendlily, clearly the owner, his white hair sticking in many directions in a somewhat contained fashion of chaos as velvet burgundy robes covered his person. "Forgive the surprise. Usually, my customers are of young students entering their schools of wizardry, you lot are a bit older. Ah, my apologies! I am Garrick Ollivander."

"Akashi Seijuurou." The said person nodded before smiling politely as everyone introduced themselves. "We are students of Mahoutokoro here for the World Cup, and thought to pick up our wands in the meantime."

The wandmaker set to his task with a mad glint in his silvery eyes, asking Akashi to go first as a tape measure came to life, measuring the captain's dominant right hand.

And within a few seconds, a wand was placed in their captain's hand.

"Hazel, phoenix feather, thirteen and half inches." Ollivander supplied as he nodded for Akashi to give the wand a wave, everyone watching with expectant eyes.

Obliging, the redhead blinked as he caused the desk in front of him to erupt into flames, before being snuffed out by Kise with a few hand signs. Kuroko and Murasakibara stared at the charred remains while Aomine and Kise unsuccessfully stifled their laughter. Momoi, in the other hand, stared at the wand in Akashi's hands as if it pleasantly surprised her. 

"Akashi-kun, are you alright?"

"Yes. I apologize. That was not at all my intention." Akashi stated after regaining his composure, ignoring the snickers that were silenced with a glance, as he lowered the wand on a nearby desk. But Ollivander merely waved the apology aside, conveying that it was a common sight. "But I believe that this wand and I are not compatible, Mr. Ollivander."

"It is the wand that chooses the wizard, Mr. Akashi. I am merely the gatekeeper to the wisdom of the wands." Ollivander nodded sagely as he disappeared into the shelves with glee.

Thus began the selection of the wands for the Kiseki no Sedai, as after destroying several other articles of furniture (and nearly setting Aomine aflame), their captain still did not have a wand.

Marveling at the sheer amount of destruction their captain had unintentionally caused made the others stare at the wands that were offered warily, was it really the wands or was it Akashi?

("You are Satan."

"Daiki. Do you still wish to breathe?"

"Got it. Shutting up.")

Ollivander, in the other hand, was absolutely elated.   

"It has been so long indeed since I have had such a difficult of a customer! And he is only the first of the six of you!"

Finally after several other incidents of decimated furniture and a near phobia of fire for Aomine, the wandmaker appeared a few moments later, his hands opening a burgundy box, sealed with several Eastern runes.

Removing the golden ribbon, the lid was opened to reveal the wand within.

Carved of a dark cherry, the black handle twisted into an embellished end of gold leaf, shaped into a yellow chrysanthemum, as the point was ridiculously sharpened like a razor blade.

Holding out the wand, the wandmaker spoke softly. "Cherry, phoenix feather, thirteen and a fourth inches."

A ruby jolt of sparks flew from the end of the sharpened wand, choosing it's master, the moment it touched the captain's hand.

However, it was not the only one to choose it's master.

As a smaller wand lifted out of it's confinement from the box, hidden, with a gentle levitation before coming to a stop before Kuroko, waiting for the boy to take the wand as it's master. Judging from the surprise and gape in Ollivander's face, it was an uncommon occurrence but the phantom took the wand in his dainty hand, a small glow of pale blue sealing the phantom as his master.

Unlike Akashi's wand, the white wand was decorated with fractures from handle to point, ebony and scarred. Deep in the fractures, silver rivers snaked over the harsh cracks, almost healing. 

"Yew, phoenix feather, thirteen inches." Ollivander smiled before he closed the now empty box with a knowing glint in his silvery eyes. "Who's next?"

It was Midorima, who did not fail to cause mayhem in the shop.

With trial after trial, the sharpshooter became increasingly frustrated as he committed the following in no particular order: shattered a bookshelf, nearly concussed Aomine with a stray lamp, destroyed Kise's ringing cell phone — no one was particularly in dismay over it other than Kise — and finally, nearly killed Ollivander with flying cases of wands.

By the seventh wand, Midorima was finally saved from the sniggers and laughter from Aomine and Kise, well aware that he was never going to live this down. But then again, neither would they when it was their turn.

The wand was of a light wood, carved with the curvature of a chess piece, the end of the handle topped by the head of bishop and with a small spark of emerald crackles, the wand was his own.

"Elm, thestral and unicorn hair, fourteen and three fourths inches."

Following was Murasakibara's turn and sure enough, like the rest, the giant was not exempt in causing damage to the shop.

The six of them had to duck to avoid the flying ladder (Kuroko taking Momoi with him) with a swiftness that only those of their level in physique had, as it went flew out the window, concussing a particularly pink witch, who was unfortunately was too short to be noticed under the window.

Meh, collateral damage. It happens.

Murasakibara's wand revealed itself to be one of redwood, longer than all of the others as the handle was grooved with smooth curves like the end of a violin as the point narrowed to a vein of deep purple blending into the ruby wood. Taking the wood in his large hands, the wand appeared normal, relative to it's master — the end dancing with violet sparks.

Kise was next, his enthusiasm welcomed by Ollivander by a gentle smile while the others merely bullied the blonde to hurry up and get his wand already. The blatant favoritism is blatant.

And like everyone but Kuroko, the blonde left a trail of destruction in his wake — first summoning torrent of glacial waters over all of them before a sandstorm of Saharan sand blew over their soaked forms, appearing to just come from the beach. An army of talking frogs appeared at their feet next, which to their horror, were more annoying than Kise. Aomine didn't think it possible.

If not for Momoi's reminder of animal cruelty, the frog population may have met it's end then and there. Rights be damned.

With the resolved situation that consisted more of —

"Kise, I swear if you do not get your goddamned wand soon…"

"Ryota, it would be in your best interest to heed Daiki's words for once."

"Gemini ranked last today."

"Kise-chin is being so troublesome, even more so than Mine-chin, knowing how Mine-chin usually is."

"OI!"

"Please hurry, Kise-kun."

"Ki-chan. We still have Dai-chan and me to go through, please hurry up."

— Kise finally got his wand.

Silvery white, the wand was a decent length, the handle bordered by an ebony ring as grey branches of spindly nature carved into the edges of the wand, beginning from the ring to the end of the wand point. Instead of a complex handle, the opposing end was bejeweled with a transparent amber stone, gleaming with power as Ollivander grinned at the sight of golden sparks at the point.

"Silver lime, horned serpent horn, eleven and a half inches."

Momoi's revealed hers after one incident that resulted in the disappearance of Kuroko's shirt. Causing a minor fuss that consisted of a fainted manager in the arms of a startled Ollivander who was collected by Murasakibara after he had finished his snacks, a bleeding-nose of Kise, a blushing Midorima and a shirtless Aomine, who quickly draped his shadow with his own shirt until Akashi sighed summoning a new shirt.

"Willow, phoenix feather, twelve and a half inches." Ollivander smiled as Momoi's wand was elegantly carved with delicate lotuses on the handle and point, none missing how the petals were too sharp. 

With his friends' unintended for once destruction and his shirt returned, Kuroko was sure that if Ollivander did not repair his shop with a Reparo after each of their trials for wands, the shop would be no longer as none of the damage caused by the rest of them was comparable to Aomine.

By the time they had found Aomine's, two walls were destroyed because of the rejection of one wand and a very displeased Midorima was covered in gods-knows-how old plant water. Murasakibara, helpfully, told the green haired male that he had some algae on his glasses. Kise giggled behind a hand beside to Kuroko, who blinked with a glint of mirth before offering a handkerchief to the vice-captain as Aomine received another wand.

With a ten feet berth.

"Please don't fucking blow up." Aomine muttered as he scrutinized the wand. That was how the two walls were gone.

This one was completely ebony, the handle bracketed by a set of bronze rings, before spindles of bronze grooves swirled up the point, elegantly darker than a majority of the wands that he had tried.

"Blackthorn, thunderbird tail feather, ten and three fourths inches."

Giving it a wave, navy azul sparks flew with a maniacal glint. "Finally…"

"Finally is correct, Daiki." Akashi chuckled, as the room fixed itself into perfect pre-destruction of Hurricane Aomine. "Who knows what would have happened if your destruction were left to continue?"

"Please forgive Aomine-kun's destructive tendencies, Mr. Ollivander. He is not very bright." Kuroko deadpanned as the others nodded solemnly, Ollivander watching them amusedly.

"Oi, Tetsu! You didn't have to word it like that!"

"Kurokocchi is right, Aominecchi!"

"I don't wanna hear that from you, dumbass!"

"Mine-chin and Kise-chin are both stupid, so stop yelling. So noisy." Murasakibara mumbled, before Akashi smirked at the silenced two, turning to the wandmaker who laughed at their conversations. After paying for the wands, the seven made to leave when Ollivander held up a hand for them to wait, silvery eyes brimmed with wisdom.

"I have given many wands to many who had the potential to do great things." The wandmaker smiled knowingly. "And even without wands and magic, the seven of you have already accomplished many great things. It is curious that the seven of you were given these wands in particular."

"What is it that is so special about our wands?" Akashi voiced for all.

"All of your wands are of the same maker, only of differing times of his life. This maker claimed that they were awaiting for their masters all together. It has been so many years, that this maker's name is no longer with us." Ollivander shrugged at the curious looks given to him. "I had multiple claims of the same from inexperienced wand makers and they proved to be false — yours however, are not destined for mediocre."

One particular week,  Kuroko found himself with an ample amount of time after attending Moody's lecture on counter-curses with a slumbering Aomine, awakened by a jab to side for the shadow to inform his light of his scheduled class with Midorima at noon.

It was Tuesday, after all.

Deciding to go to the library after Aomine-kun stopped responding to him, the phantom had somehow found himself in the seventh floor, having searched much of the other floors to no avail. Sighing, Kuroko made his way to the staircase, past the corridor a third time after leaving his bag by the corridor, seeing no reason to lug it around when other students were in class anyway.

And he was not particularly keen on seeing Aomine-kun's demonstration of proper acrobatics,

("Maybe we should break their bones so when they are regrowing, they will be more flexible."

"Hm..."

"I'm pretty sure you or Tetsu have something like that, right, Murasakibara?"

"Do these British allow for human experimentation, Mine-chin?"

The swift paling of several most of the students answered that for them.

"Tch. They should just stab that motherf—"

Murasakibara threw a cookie to stop the ace in his swears.)

or Midorima-kun's vanishment techniques.

("Mr. Kuroko has a permanent talisman on him, right?"

"No, no! I heard it was an accident with Transfiguration! That he was the victim of a Vanishment Spell that went wrong!"

"Where did you hear such foolishness?" Midorima rose a brow, while Akashi had the audacity to be amused. "Kuroko is naturally invisible. Unlike the rest of you if you do not perform the spell correctly, you shall spend the next week with certain necessities invisible."

"International diplomacy, Shintarou."

"And your threat to plague them with nightmares is not an offense, Akashi?"

"Of course not, Shintarou. Your methods leaves behind some evidence. Mine do not."

"...Fair.")

The wild Kuroko was walking to retrieve his bag, when a door he correctly recalled, was not there a moment ago, appeared.

The shadow paused in his booted feet with a loud click and stared for a good second, hand curling over the bag.

That door was… not there a moment ago… speaking of vanishment spells...

Kuroko vaguely wondered if this was how people felt when he 'suddenly appeared.'

But before he put much thought to it, Kuroko opened the door and entered without much of any sense of caution, his wand in his sleeve. With a loud creak, Kuroko found himself in a spacious room filled to the brim with books with varying subjects, stacked in towers that were twice Murasakibara's height as armchairs and couches littered the bottom of the piles, a grand fireplace at the very center, warming the entire room.

Silently wondering where exactly he was, Kuroko neared the fireplace, seating himself when a thin book drifted to his adjacent, planting itself firmly on the couch next to him. Well, he did in a way, find a quiet place to read.

Automatic or sentient. Kuroko concluded as he opted for the latter since technology in the West was nonexistent, picking up the book recognizing the title.

Hogwarts, A History by Bathilda Bagshot.

Having read it, Kuroko found extra pages from the version that he had purchased to prepare for their entry to the school, informing him of a particular room — the one he was in.

The Room of Requirement, or otherwise known as the Come and Go Room, is a secret room, future reader who has incidentally wandered here, that only appears when a person is in great need of it. This room is sentient as your wand is, able to choose whom is allowed to enter, believing them to be worthy of it's contents, regardless of intent — it is strangely objective in that respect. But nonetheless, it is entered by walking past it's to-be entrance thrice, thoughtful of your need and the room shall reciprocate.

But be forewarned, reader; be specific of your need.

For if you are not, others may follow you and see your activities within if they are aware of what your need is. Do not be afraid to voice your need, nor mention objects of which you exempt from your use of the room. Once you have entered, you are the master of the room, and it, the objective servant at your beck-and-call — but only if you are specific with your words.

The Room of Requirement, however, holds another secret within her.

Kuroko rose a brow at the words, scanning past them.

She hides the Room of Hidden Things.

Like a mirror image of the Room of Requirement, the sister holds the objects that you, reader, may require or have use for — therefore, to enter the sister room, you must do the same; only this time, you thoughts center on entering the Room of Hidden Things. And here, you would find a variety of things, from aged books that were long forgotten to newly bloodied armory from the antics of naughty Hogwarts students.

Therefore to you, future reader, may you find these extra pages to your satisfaction and informative to your goals as a Hogwarts student. I will not allow these to be published because the Room of Requirement is a hall for only those who were allowed to see into her secrets to have, not for the public to saunter in atrociously.

I hope that you, future reader, too, can understand my selfish desire to withhold this information.

Kuroko stared at the words before closing the book, glancing at his watch. He had about fifteen minutes left to change and get ready for their daily practice — training from the forges of the Netherworld, according to Aomine-kun.

Self-preservation instincts kicking in more than anything else, the shadow left, with his thoughts on the room he had accidentally found.

It would not be the first time that he had hid things from his friends, and most certainly not be the last, but it was not like any of them knew about it in the first place. Other than Akashi-kun.

There was always some doubt whenever it concerned whether or not the captain was aware of his former basketball team's movements. Then again, it did not particularly bother them that he was aware of their location via phone that was resistant to the interference of magic.

Plus it was troublesome to call informants of nearby supplies of maibou, magazines of Mai-chan, vanilla milkshakes, daily interchanging lucky items, and IP addresses of an individual who had too many pictures of them. 

Especially when Kuroko found himself kidnapped by the baseball team in Teikou. He was nearly on his way to Hokkaido for a national game when he was rescued by his basketball teammates to Aomine's amusement. Kuroko got his revenge later with the assistance of Akashi-kun.

Aomine-kun would complain that his passes were too fast and his wrists would snap if they continued. Kuroko stared at him, unsympathetic, and suggested that may be the baseball team would catch them better. Akashi-kun overheard and pulled Aomine-kun aside for a moment. That was how the Ignite Pass was invented.

Appearing to his chambers on their ship and reappearing in the edges of the Hogwarts pitch with a pre-written talisman he from Kise-kun, Kuroko found himself the only one other than the said blonde to arrive, everyone decked out in their usual practice clothing — basketball shorts with old sweatshirts.

If anyone noticed the dead grass around his feet, none of them voiced it. If they even noticed him in the first place.

"Good afternoon, Tetsuya." Akashi smiled as everyone flinched at the phantom's arrival. Just because they were used to his low presence did not mean they were not surprised every once in a while.

"Good afternoon, Akashi-kun. Midorima-kun. Murasakibara-kun. Aomine-kun. Momoi-san." Kise-kun.

"What about me?!"

"TETSU-KUN~!"

"I cannot breathe, Momoi-san." Kuroko stated despite being squeezed in her arms, her assets crushing his lungs before he was released, only to be tackled from behind by a pair of octopus-like arms, clingy to his person.

"KUROKOCCHI~!"

"… Please let go of me, Kise-kun."

With an amused smirk at the bombardment of his phantom, the captain called for his sixth man to be released and the others to quiet as he held up the clipboard from Momoi, scanning it for issuing everyone's training for the day.

"As a warm-up after doing your individual stretches, all of us will be running forty laps around the pitch as well as sets of push-ups and sit-ups. Tetsuya, you will do half of what we do. Afterwards, we will each be paired up in a free-for-all match with only the Quaffle and charmed Bludgers. Tetsuya and I will do Seeker training at a later date."

Simplistic in words, but brutal as Akashi Seijuurou's training was anything but easily done.

May the gods have mercy.

Forty laps were nothing new to the athletes, having been the first-string of the famous Teikou, but twenty laps had a draining factor to the phantom, who was quickly overtaken by the others.

But instead of going off to their water break, Kuroko found a smiling Aomine jogging backwards in front with a supportive Kise beside him. Midorima tried to put off his company as needing more distance to get rid of his sleeping legs, while Akashi smirked amusedly before stating that their phantom had only five more to finish, appeasing a hungry Murasakibara, who hummed for Kuro-chin to move faster.

Fighting a smile, Kuroko nodded.

Momoi watched in the sidelines, eyes glazed with happy tears.

Half an hour later with a water break along a change of gear, the six of them stood with at the center of the pitch, divided into three pre-ordained teams.

Aomine and Midorima were partnered in a temporary alliance, their usual matching white and red uniform with black gear, now a magically black and red, brooms beside them as Midorima held his orange teacup carefully, his Starsweeper XXI resting on his shoulder.

The broom was simple in design, a warm brown with golden stirrups, the twigs tied at the end neatly as its master listened to his captain. Aomine, in the other hand, ignored a majority of the words from their captain, as he had heard them all too many times, legs twitching to get on his broom in gloved hands.

Like Midorima's limited edition, gotten by Akashi's connections, Aomine possessed a Thunderbolt VI, not even heard by the public yet as it was the world's fastest broom, even more so than the Firebolt in Kise's possession. The broom was a dark brown with light brown twigs of driftwood, polished and varnished to jagged points, stirrups a bronze.

The blonde was pouting as his beloved mentor was not partnered with him, all the while beside Akashi, who held a Yajirushi. Made of cherry wood, the broom was elegant like it's master, twigs of the young branches, dotted by cherry blossom buds and gold stirrups.

That was not to say that Kise's Firebolt was not uniquely expensive at it's own right, wood of ebony while twigs glowed with birch, beaded with golden droplets of amber as the two of them donned black and blue for their team.

Unlike his light, Kuroko stood with Murasakibara silently, who ate his last maibou before flight, their brooms' differing design displayed starkly. While Kuroko's Transylvanian Barb was short in comparison, it was fearsome. Black as the night, the wood was smooth until the rider sat, to which it revealed its barbed form like the thorns of a rose as the end did the same with gnarled branches, held in place by a silver band.

Murasakibara's Siberian Arrow was similar to Kuroko's broom in the aspect that it was simple at first glance, until the rider seated themselves. Ash wood that appeared to resemble large branches stuck out at the end of the brown broom, as a grey leather grip appeared at the handle end of the broom when in flight, allowing the player to change direction in even mid-maneuver.

Like the others' overarching theme, the two were colored in black and yellow.

"In this game, the Bludgers can directly hit any of us, but at the worst, graze or hit enough to bruise lightly for not dodging their movements, seeing how all of us are too stubborn to learn other than by physical consequence. There will be six Bludgers to look out for, and each of us are in uniforms that have been well-reinforced as a precaution. Any rings are free game - no defenses are to be employed in this practice, you all will be on offense. No magic is allowed to be employed in this practice." Akashi announced as he caught the glance from Midorima, before receiving an approving nod as far as safety.

"Momoi will release the Quaffle for the games and the team that scores the most points after all four forty-minute intervals wins, and all but the last two of the main rules will apply, Momoi as our referee. Any questions?"

"Nope." Aomine grinned, excited to face against his teammates, taking to the skies.

Harry scowled, moody and foul ever since the events of the previous night.

It was not his fault that his name was in the stupid, bloody cup! He didn't put it in there! Who the hell did then?

And it was not only Ron who was mad at him.

The Houses of Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were less than enthusiastic when they had heard Angelina Johnson's selection into the team and when he was added, that made a total of three Gryffindors in the team, while one from the other Houses, plus the extra Slytherin.

Accusations of trying to get attention and gander for the spotlight while Krum and the Miracles were here at Hogwarts were all Harry could hear concerning him. Not to mention that with the exception of Wood and Johnson, a majority of his team did not get along even in the most civil situations, therefore, the thought of being able to do well in Quidditch was more like a joke than anything else.

Huffing at the thought of the team getting along, Harry gripped his Firebolt before kicking off, wanting to feel nothing but the air in his face and wind taking his breath away, to escape the confining thoughts of this tournament.

Only to have a sight stop him dead in his tracks. Holy shit.

It was a Quidditch match that he had not seen before. Not even at the World Cup.

Pitted against one another, the Generation of Miracles were in the air and almost impossible to see, as they flitted back and forth, passing the Quaffle to one another before it was stolen, taken back or caught. 

Never dropped.

Aomine currently held the Quaffle, speeding by Kise and Murasakibara to the nearest goal, swiftly followed by them when two Bludgers closed in on him on each side. Looking like he was going to be crushed despite his speed, Harry nearly shouted in warning when Aomine, to his surprise and awe, kicked off the broom below him to get enough momentum to jump onto the rim of the goal before throwing the Quaffle behind him with a feral smirk.

It was a pass. Harry gaped.

Catching the free ball, Midorima could not miss, as he scored, point blank with the goal. Kise and Murasakibara were going too fast to catch up to Aomine to notice Midorima behind them. An elaborate feint.

But that was not the end to the amazing feats before him.

Before Harry could comprehend what was it he had just saw entirely, the Boy Who Lived stared at the sight of the floating Quaffle, blinking once, to see that it was that Seeker Kuroko who held it, face blank.

Then with a bend of his elbow, the phantom passed in the ball, with the force of his palm, going vertically across the pitch into the hands of the Murasakibara (Where the bloody hell did he come from?!), who turned sharply to avoid a steal from Aomine, nearly skewering the latter in the branches of his broom as he scored another, both corkscrewing away from several Bludgers.

And almost immediately afterward, Akashi took the Quaffle, zig-zagging his way through his team with apparent ease before passing to Kise, forcing the ball into the hoop with the same pass as the Seeker.

This… was almost inhuman. The way they moved… it shouldn't have been possible.

"Oh! Are you here to use the pitch as well?" A feminine voice asked, as Harry looked below. It was Momoi.

Up close, Harry could see the reason why Ron was head-over-heels for her, dressed in her golden robes mounted on a thin but sturdy, silvery broom with soft pink branches that looked sharp and gnarled. "We had reserved it until the end of this hour so, if you would please be a bit patient, we will be finished soon, Mr. Potter."

"O-Oh no!" Harry shook his head at the girl's question. "I was just flying by, Miss Momoi. I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"I see." She smiled. "Just Momoi, please. Manager of the Generation of Miracles and Master of Magic History."

"Likewise. Just Harry is fine." The Boy Who Lived smiled back.

"Harry, it is." Momoi nodded knowingly before her gaze sharpened. "Seeker for the Gryffindor Team ever since your first-year and strong candidate to be-captain for the Gryffindor team. Has a specialty for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Flying, Dueling and the Dark Arts. But is weaker in Potions, Transfiguration, Divination, Charms, and Magic History."

Resourceful but run by emotions, can be irrational if touched upon the wrong nerve. Defeated multiple Dark Wizards with the help of Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jean Granger for the last three years, despite their young age.

Harry's green eyes widened as he flinched back. He knew she was good. But not that good. "You... How did you...?"

"How did I know all of that about you?" Momoi smirked lightly before her demeanor grew hauntingly chilling. "It is my business to know the strengths and weakness of my opponents. No hard feelings, Harry. Have you ever heard of the saying, 'Know your enemy and know yourself, in a hundred battles, you will never be in peril'? True to it, we have yet to be in such peril."

Have you, the Boy Who Lived?

She smiled innocently as if she was saying goodbye to friend, redirecting her broom. But before she could get too far, Harry rose a hand and shouted. "Wait!"

Momoi paused, magenta eyes side-glancing him. Despite himself, Harry flinched.

"J-Just tell me this. How serious were you all at the World Cup?"

Because the World Cup was no close game, but it was great game, nonetheless.

Shivers ran up Harry's spine as he watched the girl's smile shift into one with curved ends, like it was to a pet who had done something endearingly stupid, before replying.

Feeling pent-up adrenaline build in his veins and utterly terrified for his own self-preservation, Harry had the urge to throw up.

If the seven members of his team did not get along soon, it would be easier to convince Voldemort in turning himself in than to win. Because if this was mere practice and the World Cup was child's play, what the hell were they supposed to look forward to when the First Task began?

Chapter Text

As one would expect, Akashi was usually the first one to rise. After a grueling practice, the six of them tumbled out of the baths with an idea to have a sleepover.

It had been two years since they had all slept in the same room.

He was not really sure of who's idea it was, most likely Ryota, but the six of them had somehow tossed futons and blankets in the common area of their separate wing (the pros of societal hierarchy), sore and bruised, before falling asleep in the same room.

Sitting up, he looked down, expecting to see all of his teammates asleep. But instead blinked owlishly to find only one of the said teammates, curled in the futons with him.

Evidence of crumb covered blankets told him where a large Atsushi took three futons by himself. With two hastily folded futons that smelled of expensive cologne that was Ryota's beside two messy ones beside him, belied that the ace and copycat slept beside a still sleeping Kuroko.

Leaving the simply folded set between him and Atsushi was Shintarou's, glasses most likely on their wearer. 

Serenely asleep, Kuroko was curled up to his other side, hair a striking mess while half-curled fists loosely hugged a pillow to his mid-section. Smiling softly at the sight, the redhead sat up from his futon, before exiting silently, heading to the baths.

It was Sunday, after all. No classes to attend or teach outside of Momoi.

Looking to make himself a cup of coffee, Akashi marveled at the quiet morning, basking in the gentle silence.

A pity because it was cracked open as devastatingly as Kuroko's Ignite Pass Kai on some poor soul's skull by a very loud explosion that rocked the ship. Followed by a very familiar and middle-school retrospective shout of indignation that belonged to one pissed off vice-captain.

Shintarou.

Akashi swallowed a sigh.

Steps measured, he ignored the startled sounds of Seconds and Thirds in their quarters, awakening from the shouts and scolds that still came from the dining area, as he made his way over. Despite the soundproofed spells on the ship.

Stopping before the doors, he pushed them open. To a sight to behold.

The state-of-the-art, stainless steel, touch-pad, v expensive kitchen area was missing a wall.

More accurately, the wall that made up part of their ship's hull.

Gods above, they blew a hole in reinforced, fire-proofed, explosive-proof (order Ryota to level up shields) and unsinkable (Akashi had seen whole glaciers broken into ice chips by the ship, paint unscathed) ship.

Akashi resisted the urge to stab someone. His goddess cackled in the background. He ignored it in favor for looking at the perpetrators. His precious teammates.

Aomine was covered in a combination of broken eggs, flour and uncooked dough while a dark brown liquid was splattered over his face, holding a whipped cream can, eyes as wide as dinner plates at the sight of his captain, while Kise looked no better beside him, both turned away from the charred remains of the microwave. And the hole in the ship, letting the morning air in.

Looking like he was caught in the crossfire between a strawberry smoothie and an angry can of whipped cream that decided that white was a nice color on him, the blonde also adorned some egg shells and dough over his front, hair a blown out mess.

Midorima was off to the side, not as messy as the others, (other than some brown splatter here, pink there, and some flour over here) looked downright murderous at Aomine, who only stared back with a huff.

Murasakibara, in other hand, was contemplative as he stood by the blender that had no top, hand over the OFF button, covered in pink and stray drops of brown as he licked a cream covered maibou, like he was trying to contemplate the flavor. Not to mention that the remains of the kitchen area was a complete mess, walls and counters covered in splatters of brown, white and pink.

"Good morning, Aka-chin."

"…Good morning, Atsushi." The redhead said finally before glaring at all of them that said, 'Explain. Now.'

"It was NOT my fault, Akashicchi!" Kise began as he pointed a hand at Aomine. "Aominecchi was the one who put the vanilla extract in the microwave with the dough!"

"You were the one who told me to throw in four eggs and put in a spoon of vanilla extract in it before warming it up for one minute!" Aomine growled back, hand pointed at the black and brown mass that was intended to be pancake dough.

Akashi recalled that while Daiki was not Momoi-level-cooking-bad. He was a second of being inedible. Because Momoi was censorship-worthy and a slow poison.

"I was reading the instructions out loud! It doesn't mean you literally throw four eggs, a spoon, and a bottle of vanilla extract in a bowl and put it in the microwave, Aominecchi!" The blonde yelled, pointing at the microwave that read: 59:47. "And you set it at one hour! Not a minute!"

Then again, Daiki was also an idiot.

The hole in the ship, though, now, was not so surprising. All of the kitchen-ware was so reinforced that if a nuclear missile were to land on their kitchen, outside of the walls and floors, it would have been unscathed. Because more often than not, their experiments yielded explosive reactions, so, their tools needed to be in constant in pristine states.

Even powerful enough to make a hole in the hull of the most defended ship in Japan from the inside. Apparently.

A spoon and Daiki caused this. Unintentionally.

"Enough, Ryota." Akashi turned to his second-in-command. "Shintarou, where is your lucky item?"

Only the destruction of his lucky item could make the bespectacled male so unnerved.

"Aomine, that fool, broke it!" It was the vanilla extract, then.

The redhead turned to the tallest of them. "And you, Atsushi, what were you doing?"

"I was helping Mine-chin in making pancakes, Aka-chin. When Kise-chin wanted to make strawberry smoothies too, but he forgot the cap, making it go everywhere. Then Mine-chin make the microwave go boom~" Akashi settled for pinching the bridge of his nose. Instead of homicide.

A gasp sounded behind him as he noticed the rest of the school was behind them, staring open-mouthed at the destruction.

A risen, unamused brow from him and they made themselves scarce. No need for an audience.

"Ryota. You will repair the ship's hull and add all the needed reinforcements for this to not occur again." Akashi sentenced, his demeanor terrifying despite standing in a mixture of pink strawberry smoothie and whip cream under his slippers and in a night robe. "Daiki. You are under the same ban as Momoi. You are to not touch anything related to food production ever again. Shintarou, there is a spare vanilla extract in the storages, Tetsuya makes sure that we are always stocked with it. Atsushi, you will clean up this mess with Daiki and Shintarou."

They blinked in unison. Where was their punishment?

But did not dare to question is aloud, as three minutes later, orders followed to a tee, the four of them were all on their knees before the captain, hole patched up. 

"Tetsuya and I have Seeker training." Akashi smiles as his eyes glint. "The rest of you, in other hand...

Daiki, you will be graciously volunteering on our behalf to clean up with the Kitsunes every Sunday in maintaining the ship for three weeks. Since you cared enough in pointing out weaknesses in our defenses from the inside."

The Kitsunes were similar to the House Elves in Britain, only not in serfdom but rather in blood-bound loyalty to their master and with more freedom in that they can leave and swear themselves to a new master. Thus, requiring their masters to treat them well.

Aomine opens his mouth in protest. "Effective immediately."

Only to be thoroughly silenced.

"Ryota. In memorandum of your reading skills, you will be holding a tutoring session after Momoi's class for as long as needed today. For all subjects. For all of our students, Durmstrang, Hogwarts and Mahoutokoro."

"Shintarou will be assisting, of course."

His eyes flickered to them. Their gazes immediately lowered, protests dying.

"Atsushi, you can only have five maibou per day for one week."

"But Aka-chin—!"

"Did I say you can speak, Atsushi?"

Murasakibara shut up.

"...What happened in here, Akashi-kun?"

Turning, all of them looked the voice of their phantom, hair in its usual bedhead. Blank, blue globes wide and staring at his friends, blissfully unaware. Akashi smiled, ignoring everyone else as he stood.

"It is nothing, Tetsuya. It has been taken care of."

The day before, the Kiseki no Sedai found themselves at the end of the more annoying aspects of their basketball and Quidditch — the media.

Seated at a couch, the six boys were donned in their white uniforms, their turn for an interview with a reporter of the Daily Prophet that included photographs. The reporter was a witch with an all-knowing air surrounding her, as platinum blonde cork-screw curls danced on her head, green eyes behind cat-like glasses smiled at them, mirroring the fake red lipstick covered grin.

The redhead was seated on the small couch in the middle of the trophy room, his uniform perfect as his blazer hung loosely over his shoulders, muscled legs crossed comfortably under gloved hands, absently holding a riding crop as Akashi smirked amusedly, as if his favorite pet had done something in attempt to elicit such an emotion.

To his left, a positively beaming and picturesque Kise smirked knowing as a gloved hand cupped his chin as he took up the entirety of his side, long legs outstretched as his cap gleamed gold, matching his wind swept hair and amber eyes, gleaming with suaveness that made many swoon.

Opposite to the captain's left was Aomine, expression appearing to be thoroughly annoyed but too lackadaisical to do much about it as he leaned back against the velvet, one arm propped to hold up his head and the other hung limply over a bent knee.

Beside the darker skinned male, was Atsushi, lavender eyes locked in the distance as he chewed on a milk chocolate bar contently, leaning on the armrest as his legs appeared to stretch on forever.

On the other side, Midorima did the same in a more poised form, seated on the armrest with crossed arms as he held a bouquet of dried herbs loosely, upside-down as he glared with a frown at the photographer.

Lastly, Kuroko unseen was seated on the floor, by the foot of the couch, legs outstretched as he stared back at the camera, eyes blank as his badge gleamed with the same glare.

Adjacent to them were the Hogwarts and Durmstrang teams, at their left and right respectively as they were all donned in their uniforms, (Krum's more extravagant than his peers, and captains of the respective House in Hogwarts with gold leaf at their crests) being photographed and to be interviewed like them in their own velvet couches. 

The blonde reporter had decided to do their interview. Together. All three of them. The idiocy of these people.

"What a charismatic triplet of champions." The reporter huffed knowingly before flashing a smile, greeting all of them. "Hello! I'm Rita Skeeter. I write for the Daily Prophet."

"But of course, you lot already know that, don't cha?" She waved a manicured hand towards the nineteen of them when the photographers backed away. "It's you all that we don't know. You're the juicy news."

The journalist coiled over to Hogwarts first, framed eyes glowing before following with Durmstrang and Mahoutokoro, the two latter watching her with scrutiny as she paused. "What tendrils of courage, do these robes hold within? And the mysteries that those muscles mask? And let us not forget, what quirks are within the those gifted?

In other words, what makes a champion tick? Me, myself and I want to know. Not to mention my raving readers!

So! Who's feeling up to sharing?"

"..." (No.)

"..." (Fuck no.)

"..." (Can we politely refuse our own people?)

"The host team of the tournament, it is! Lovely."

As the reporter bounced over to the Hogwarts couch, the photoshoot was quickly finished for Mahoutokoro, the cameramen collecting his things as the three Headmasters approached their seated location with Ollivander and Mr. Crouch, followed by another wizard.

Nodding their heads in greeting, the six watched as Mr. Crouch approached with the unknown wizard, a hand gesturing to his companion. "Good morning. This is Ludovic Bagman, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. He is the one who will oversee the Wand-Weighing ceremony as well as assist me in working to make sure that the Triwizard Tournament will not place any of you in mortal danger."

Bagman was a blonde man with an athletic build that paled in rivalry to Kise, but was enough to be noticeably strong. Blue eyes glowed with a naive aura that most caught but were not fooled by, were ignorant to the twitch of his posture, as if he were itching to do something.

"A pleasure to meet you all." Bagman smiled.

"Not at all, the pleasure is all ours." Akashi replied smoothly before Crouch resumed, clearing his throat in the small pause for attention.

"Now then, we will proceed through Wand-Weighing ceremony — designed to ensure that all of your wands are in perfect functioning condition for the three Tasks. Similar and much smaller examinations will be used before the Tasks for your brooms and gear. So, if you would, please hand your wands to Mr. Ollivander."

One by one, the wands were revealed from their hiding places and handed over.

"I was not aware that all of them had acquired wands. I had thought that they all had decided that magic circles and wandless magic was sufficient." More than enough.

"You are not aware of many things, Headmaster." Momoi smiled genially, noting something on her clipboard. "But, even without the wands, I'm sure they will be fine."

Matsumoto returned the gesture. "Of course, Momoi-san."

Ollivander nodded to each of the wands with approval as he returned them after the inspection, that consisted of the wands being scanned for their most recent spells and uses. "And with this, I declare the wands of Mahoutokoro to be functional and perfectly able for their wielders to use them in the Triwizard Cup."

"Thank you, Ollivander." Dumbledore smiled before addressing Akashi, who had slipped away from the couch to speak to Momoi while Kise argued with Aomine over Kuroko. "And it appears our business here is done. After your interview with Miss Skeeter, the six of you are free to your schedules for this Saturday morning."

"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore." Kuroko spoke for all of them beside an amused Akashi as everyone but the Japanese students flinched at the phantom's appearance. But luckily, Dumbledore recovered quickly, smiling softly.

"Just Headmaster or Dumbledore will do, Mr. Kuroko."

"Very well, Dumbledore-kocho."

"It is the formal way of addressing a Headmaster in Japanese." Akashi explained. "Tetsuya has a habit for calling everyone formally, even among us."

"I see." Dumbledore hummed, smiling amusedly. "As long as Mr. Kuroko is comfortable with it, I see no problems with his manners. Professor McGonagall would surely approve."

"I would imagine so." Akashi nodded lightly before turning away from the professor. "If you will excuse us, Headmaster, but Tetsuya and I have an interview to attend."

And with a smile, the conversation was finished as Dumbledore made his way to his own students, all present. Harry looked, particularly, annoyed.

With all the fuss from the night of the selections, the repercussions were understandably harsh for young Harry.

Practically, the entirety of Slytherin, followed by a majority of the three schools were upset with him, thinking that somehow, the Chosen One had cheated into placing his name into the goblet, leaving his only supporters to be his housemates who believed that the more Gryffindors, the more chances to win.

As the Wand-Weighing ceremony began for Hogwarts, Dumbledore was pleasant and tried to reassure his students that despite the line up they were against, they were going to do well. They were chosen by the Goblet of Fire, and therefore, were the best of the best in their school.

The serene atmosphere was broken by a shrill yelp.

Heads turned to the sound, coming from the Mahoutokoro couch.

Rita Skeeter had fallen back on her behind, humiliated with ashes dusting her form — the remains of her parchment and quill. While the champions of Mahoutokoro were stiff on the perch, coiled like snakes ready to strike at a moment's notice. Matsumoto was cold, eyes glaring behind the couch at the reporter.

It was clear that the reporter had asked something that offended the Japanese team.

"I apologize for Aomine-kun's actions, Ms. Skeeter. But I would refrain from asking such questions." Kuroko spoke up, the only one who appeared relaxed, body language calm. "It is not often that we try to miss, even among allies."

But his words were clearly not.

Truly a Master of the Dark Arts. Dumbledore pursed his lips. Aware of not only his temper, but also his power.

"Tetsuya." Nodding, the shadow returned, as Akashi smiled, unfazed by the attention.

"Now, then. Shall we try again, Ms. Skeeter?"

Later that week, Harry, more or less, moped and sulked in a discreet corner of the library after somewhat (not really) reconciled with Ron in detention and escaping a courtyard of sneering Slytherins with badges that gleamed with 'Potter Stinks' or 'The Hogwarts' Attention Seeker.'

The Chosen One believed it was time for a good hour of not thinking. Thanks.

But for such a thing to be happening was moot upon the arrival of Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson, only members of the champion team that he could actually get along with, both rather annoyed and disgruntled. But it was Wood that informed him of the news.

"We have a group meeting." He got out with gritted teeth as they walked into an empty classroom to find the rest of his teammates in no better mood than he was, annoyed and hopelessly intimidated against the line-up they were against.

Marcus Flint and Graham Montague sneered at their approach, the insulting badges nowhere to be seen but Harry had the feeling that it was because either Cedric Diggory or Roger Davis had insisted for it to be put away.

How that was accomplished, Harry did not know. Because it shouldn't have been possible for Slytherins to possess decency.

To say that it was awkward was the most optimistic way to sum up the glaring war between Slytherin and Gryffindor and the exasperated looks from the sole Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

Cedric (the brave Hufflepuff) cleared his throat. "Well then. With introductions a moot point here, I'll get straight to it. We need to establish positions."

"Like a roster in our House Teams?" Harry voiced. "Whose Keeper and such?"

"We know exactly which position the oh so great, Chosen One here is going for, don't we?" Montague sneered as Harry grew flushed with anger before opening his mouth for a comeback, only to be held back by a firm hand.

To his surprise, it was Angelina, not Wood.

"Look. Montague, Flint we don't like you. And you two most certainly do not like us." The sole girl in the team glared as she stood between Harry, her captain and the Slytherin boys. "But, as much as we hate each and rather tip ourselves off the bloody Astronomy Tower, we have no choice but to depend on one another.

Merlin knows how much I hate to say it, but we are screwed if we don't get over our heads."

Flint and Wood, who were the most silent, exchanged glares.

Angelina scowled before slamming her desk. "Listen! We are going against the Generation of Miracles, champions of the World Cup before they were even chosen for this thing! And not to mention, we are also going against their rivals, Krum and his team!

Everyone is already betting against us since we were all chosen! Don't you know that means?!

Everyone has already assumed that we are not good enough! That Hogwarts is nothing more but the host in this tournament for Durmstrang and Mahoutokoro!

So, if you two can get your heads out of your arses, we might actually prove them otherwise!"  

"Fine." The both of them growled at the same time to their ire.

Wood acted first.

"But I want your word, Flint. None of this dirty play. We represent Hogwarts. I will not being playing a game that uses dirty, git-worthy tactics." Wood paused. "At least, not in front of others."

"Well, would you look at that?" Flint sneered amusedly. "A Gryffindor resorting to our dirty tactics. You sure you not a Slytherin, Wood?"

Wood chuckled darkly. "As sure as you're not of Godric Gryffindor's graces, Flint."

Flint shrugged as his sneer grew.

"Then I have a condition of me own. None of you Gryffindors can be captain. I don't care how you gits split this out. Montague and I will play cleanly, as you wish, Wood in exchange. It's bad enough that you bloody Gryffindors outnumber the rest of the houses, it's the final straw if you lot are commanding us too."

"Fine." Angelina agreed before any arguments could be made. "Everyone in agreement in this arrangement?"

There was an underlying yes to the question but none voiced it.

"Good." The sole female nodded. "Now to the point of this damned meeting, who's in what position?"

"Firstly, Johnson, we don't exactly have a great selection here." Roger spoke up for the first time, as everyone turned to him. "Three Seekers, two Beaters, one Keeper and one Chaser. Obviously, two of us will have to adjust to new positions. And to avoid anymore future arguments — at least, lessen them — I suggest Diggory as captain."

"Fine." Wood nodded tightly. Harry could tell his captain was not pleased that he wasn't while Cedric was surprised at his nomination.

"Me?"

"Yes." Davis nodded. "If we have Flint or Wood, I fear this will only be the first of 'conditions', Diggory. Besides, you are the one who broke the silence first, taking the initiative. So, you'll be captain."

"But what of Seeker? We have two too many."

"I think I have a solution." Cedric voiced as he nodded to Flint and Montague who looked at him with a glare. "Just hear me out. Since you two are brilliant with the bats — and do not even try to deny it, I mean. Do you not remember you knocked out Wood last year, Flint? Really? — I want to ask if you two will play as Beaters. Davis and I will be Chasers while Seeker will go to Harry."

"Why Potter on Seeker?" Montague growled.

"My second condition to you two playing clean." Wood retorted before Harry could protest otherwise. "In exchange, as Beaters, you know you two can cause more than enough damage, dirty or not."

"And with that, we have an accord." Davis declared. "Cedric will be captain and Chaser with Johnson and I. Flint and Montague as our Beaters, Wood as our Keeper and Potter as our Seeker. Anyone who has any complaints can voice them now."

The silence was tense as the seven members agreed, glares exchanged.

May gods help us all.

Kuroko watched with blank eyes as his to-be opponents exited the thought-to-be empty classroom, not seeing Kuroko at one of the corner seats beside one of the Slytherins. The invisible phantom had initially voiced that Flint's bum was on the desk he was seated at, but was met with no reaction whatsoever.

So, he had made to leave, only to be trapped bodily in his seat by Montague until they finally left. Unaware that he was in their presence the entire time.

As they left his hearing range, Kuroko received a phone call.

"Hello?"

"Kuroko!"

"Oh, good afternoon, Kagami-kun." Kuroko swung his feet under the desk as he greeted his friend. "How is Inter-High coming along?"

"Fine, I guess." Kagami spoke with a yawn. It was evening in Japan after all. "It's no fun without going against your insane friends."

"Please do not call my friends insane, Kagami-kun. You have no place to speak. You are not much different from Aomine-kun." Kuroko deadpanned as he heard sputtering and shifting covers on the other end.

"I am not anything like that Ahomine!"

"Bakagami." Kuroko refuted before changing the subject. "How is everyone?"

"We're doing fine, you idiot." Kagami huffed. "Kiyoshi-senpai is recovering from his surgery and Captain is pulling his clutch-time more so in his hospital room. Koganei-senpai and Mitobe-senpai are the same along with Tsuchida-senpai. Furi, Kawahara and Fukuda are actually busy teaching the new blood this year. Izuki-senpai has a whole list of puns to try on you and Coach is as demonic as ever. That devil woman scared off a good number of our tryouts."

"You forgot Nigou." Kagami could have sworn that his best friend was scolding but it was hard to tell under the monotone.

"My mortal enemy is spoiled as hell." Kagami's voice menaced through as Kuroko's eyes glinted amusedly.

"Do not be like that Kagami-kun. Nigou is smart. He won't be spoiled. He's not like Kise-kun."

Even Kagami snorted at that as Kuroko continued their conversation for another few minutes, vaguely telling him of his adjustment to the school in Germany before hanging up. Five minutes after he did, another call was received.

Raising a brow at the caller, the phantom picked up.

"Kise-kun?"

"HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT ABOUT ME, KUROKOCCHI?! HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT I'M SPOILED!? I AM SO HURT!"

"…" Kuroko was blinked. Slowly. "What are you talking about, Kise-kun?"

"AOMINECCHI! Someone said that they heard their girlfriend's cousin, who is the aunt of this other person, who goes to Seiren heard that KUROKOCCHI SAID TO KAGAMICCHI THAT I WAS SPOILED! HOW CAN KUROKOCCHI —!"

Ah. It appeared he was unheard. Small mercies.

"Shut up, Kise! We have a class to teach right now!"

A gasp was heard on the other side.

"I didn't know Aominecchi cared about teaching! Maybe Kagamicchi was wrong about calling you an Ahomine."

"WHAT THE HELL DID THAT BAKAGAMI CALL ME?!"

Kuroko wisely and invisibly hung up. Ah, the true benefits of misdirection.

Chapter Text

Harry stared at one of his best friends.

Well, only best friend as of late, the two of them were at the edge of the Forbidden Forest after a day of classes, Hermione at the base of the tree, holding a set of folded papers in her hand.

The brown-haired girl looked at the bespectacled boy with an unimpressed look before sighing, repeating herself. "I said, after you had told me about Rita Skeeter's untrue article about you and the lack of Mahoutokoro students in the Daily Prophet, I had decided to look into the Generation of Miracles."

"What did you find out?" Harry asked, almost demanded.

"Well." Hermione frowned. "Apparently, the five — Six, Hermione. Oh! Right. — of them are not only Quidditch players but also basketball players in Japan, a popular Muggle sport from the States."

"Basketball?" Harry blinked. Having been raised in a Muggle household, he was aware of the American sport but didn't really see the appeal. Since... you know. There was the magical world.

She nods. "And don't think that because that they play two sports, that it makes them any less popular. If anything, you can say their reputation as Quidditch players is the same in basketball, known for their monster-like, overwhelming power and skill. Both since they were in middle school."

Merlin, not only were they the best in the wizarding world, they were just as easily so in the Muggle one too. Harry groaned inwardly. Just who the hell was he going against?

"But, they don't play with one another anymore. In basketball, at least."

Harry swiveled his head so fast, he nearly got whiplash. "What?"

Hermione confirmed with a reading voice. "All of them go to different Muggle high schools and apparently went against each other in two yearly basketball tournaments last year — Inter-High and the Winter Cup, which were won by Rakuzan and Seiren. The captain's team and the Seeker's, respectively."

"Do you think this is what they were talking about when they told Skeeter to bugger off? To not talk about their basketball careers?" Harry frowned. But why would they not want to talk about something that they obviously should be proud of.

"Maybe." The bushy-haired girl mirrored her friend, clearly displeased at not knowing something. "But I doubt that the Ministry would be allowing them to participate in Muggle sports with magic because it would be cheating. So, if we are to assume that they played without magic, then I'm afraid you may be a bit over your head, Harry."

"A bit?!" Harry repeated, eyes incredulous. "I am in danger of losing my life, Hermione! Nevermind the Generation of Miracles! As if the three mortally-scarring and endangering tasks were not enough, I have a team that cannot even look at one another without imagine the other dead, to go against an all-powerful, world-acknowledged team across the damned continent!"

Huffing in and out after his small rant, Harry stood in the loud silence, white puffs dancing at his temple.

"Harry. You have no choice."

The Chosen One never felt the true meaning of those words to his his very bones until that very moment.

He was utterly and completely doomed.

"Confringo."

Kuroko lowered his goggles, a light frown coloring his face as he stood in the center of his lab.

All of them were given personal labs as expected for the Council, but his was a stark difference than the others. Unlike the sleek colors and many objects of bright magic, his was cold and filled with Dark Items, it had dense fog clawing at the walls and dim even under the illumination of several lanterns from above.

One wall was made of tempered and magically-enforced glass, the shadow had his back to it as he uttered another spell, yew wand held out before him.

He tried again.

Nothing happening, Kuroko's expression was unchanged.

It wasn't like it was surprising, but still lightly disappointed, Kuroko returned his wand to his boot.

So, no physical manifestation of magic here neither.

I could have told you that, little one. Kuroko ignored Izanami, sending a petulant huff her way.

Glancing at the golden ring that adorned his right ring finger, Kuroko twirled it absently, the translation runes that Midorima had inscribed on the metal as strong as ever.

The runes were cleverly written, allowing the user to speak the language they desired to understand, to be fluent but also have the ability to consciously decide when to switch languages, accents included. All Mahoutokoro students had a version of the ring, only lacking the ability to switch outside of the Council — once worn, that was the sole language that they spoke.

Akashi's orders were never (usually) clear to the question of why at the moment, but years of friendship and in-person evidence cemented the doubt and questioning that usually accompanied it. Not to say that they blindly followed them, but the redhead was rarely ever wrong.

Similar to an incident a few days ago, last Sunday, which was usually reserved for the six of them to relax and have the day off, which meant one thing — basketball. And it was all going as planned for a day of three-on-threes when Akashi suggested for a change of scenery from their indoor courts.

Naturally, it meant to Transfigure one of Hogwarts' courtyards into a basketball court.

("Akashi, did you ask for permission?"

"Of course, Shintarou."

"From who?"

"Why from our Headmaster, of course. 'To use whatever means to win the tournament.'"

Matsumoto-kocho knew better than to give Akashi-kun such leeway. But then again... it was Akashi-kun. He was rather hard to refuse.)

As if oblivious to the numerous gawking of students and professors alike, ever growing by the minute, the captain gestured for all of them to gather under a huddle as Momoi set up for after the games — as well as waving aside too-close bystanders.

"No special movements, from any of you." Akashi-kun began, getting startled looks from all of his team. "Play as we did after our last year in Teikou. Nothing new that you have achieved last year — no Zone, no Perfect Copy, no Emperor Eye, Ignite Pass Kai, or Full-Court Threes."

"Streetball only?" Aomine questioned as a confirmation, Akashi nodding as he smirked.

"No need to show all of our weapons just yet. Right, Tetsuya?"

Kuroko nodded. It was one of his basic tactics, after all. He was under no disillusions that he was as built as Aomine-kun or as intimidating as Akashi-kun (at least not, when he was not angered), so to use his delicate appearance to give his opponents a false sense of security, like he did not have an ace up his sleeve — only to cut off their head at the neck.

Akashi-kun had done the same. And besides, it was after they had graduated Teikou, that they were known as the Kiseki no Sedai. Just because they were not as intimidating as they could have been, did not mean they were not.

And from the silence of their audience at their games, it was.

Kuroko saw the pale visage of more than just Hogwarts. But also some of their Durmstrang, Krum grim-faced beside his Headmaster. As well as the pleased one of Matsumoto who innocently inquired that his students must have interpreted his permission a bit to creatively to Mr. Filch's ire.

"Kuro-chin~ Where are you~?" Murasakibara's voice sounded through Kuroko's thoughts as he turned to see the purple titan chewing on a Pocky, knuckles knocking on the glass wall. "Sat-chin has something to tell all of us."

Probably about the First Task. Kuroko thought as he called out to his tall friend, nodding for them to head to the main hall. As expected of Momoi-san, to know about the First Task and probably all of the stats of the other Teams so quickly.

The meeting was nostalgic. A scene that the seven of them were seated in all too often.

Dressed casually, the six of them faced their manager expectantly.

"The First Task is to retrieve this." The projector clicked to life as Momoi gestured to it.

Displayed in the dimmed room was a large golden egg that was similar to the size of two basketballs, a small star-like clasp at the top as the picture was taken quickly and a bit blurry at the edges. "It will contain a hint about the Second Task and will serve as the 'Golden Snitch' of the Task. The egg will be guarded by dragons of three species, chosen moments before by each captain on the morning of November 24, and your opponent will be the dragons, themselves."

"So, it will be individual scores first." Midorima commented as Momoi nodded. "To see how all of the Teams are in the beginning, to test the waters of how we function and perform."

"How will we be scored, Momoicchi?" Kise voiced, amber eyes narrow.

"All members of the Team are allowed to fend off the dragons to the best of their magical ability. Above the dragons' nest will be the three Quidditch rings, that only Chasers can score points by Quidditch rules and only the Seeker can retrieve the Golden Egg.

Other restrictions are of the following: The dragons are not to be harmed in any way as well as the other eggs. Wands, Magical Items and Potions are not allowed."

Meaning that they all had to rely on wandless magic.

Silence reigned for a moment before Akashi nodded for the manager to continue. "And for our competitors?"

"Durmstrang," Momoi begins, as the projector displays the school emblem and their chosen champions.

"Captain and Seeker, Viktor Krum is one of the youngest Seekers of the world, pureblood to the Krum bloodline. Skilled in Transfiguration, Dark Arts, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Dueling and Charms but lacking in Potions, Runes, and History. Specializes in being a Seeker and known for quick-thinking to fool his opposing Seekers. Very kind despite his rough disposition, he is a loner and speaks only when needed."

Momoi clipped the file closed.

"The rest of the team revolve around him, looking to him for guidance and to assure that they would win. He is their leader and mental foundation. After the World Cup, they will be wary of us and will looking for our weaknesses to counterattack."

"Hm… So much work…" Murasakibara hummed, eating some honeyed biscuits.

"Who wouldn't?" Aomine snorted, chin resting on his fist. "Hopefully, they give us a challenge this time."

Momoi ignored her childhood friend. "But we have one more opponent to discuss."

With another click, a set of student pictures for each Hogwarts member was displayed with their emblem.

"The Hogwarts Team. They are in such a disarray that most of the schools believe that they are to be mincemeat for the main show."

"And that is?" Midorima rose a brow.

"The re-match between us and Durmstrang." Momoi frowned as she held her thinnest file.

"The rumors on the team vary. Some say that they hate each other too much to work together while others say that they were nearly disqualified for in-team squabbles. But the only thing that I know for sure is what Tetsu-kun overheard the other day. It was the only time so far, the Hogwarts Team had met up together ever since the Choosing of Champions."

Heads whipped over to the invisible boy, who stared at the screen before meeting their gazes evenly.

"Kuro-chin is doing Sat-chin's job?"

"That's not it, Murasakibara-kun." Kuroko shook his head patiently before explaining the situation.

"Did they even see you, Tetsu?" Aomine looked at him incredulously.

Kuroko shook his head as Kise gushed at how amazing his Kurokocchi was.

"Western people…" The tanned male muttered as Akashi spoke up his voice, entrancing everyone to listen and obey.

"In any case, they appear to be good enough terms to have the ability to come to compromises despite their differences. To have to negotiate fair play. How lacking in sportsmanship." Akashi's eyes gleamed with mild disgust as did the rest of the Kiseki. "I will not permit any injury to any of you to be without consequences. Especially in the hands of unruly play."

Meaning, if Hogwarts resorted to poor sportsmanship, they will be paid handsomely for their choice. 

Kuroko merely stared at the image of the Hogwarts' Team and sincerely wished them luck. They needed it.

And this was evident upon the eventual arrival of the First Task.

The Durmstrang Team was informed via their Headmaster, who had sneaked into the Forest to find the secret dragons transported to the Hogwarts campus: the Swedish Short-Snout, the Hebridean Black and finally, the Hungarian Horntail.

And the other team by their dependable manager.

While Hogwarts was awakened by a v horrified Harry who was notified by Hagrid and not Ron.

Each species of dragon was fearsome and dangerous at their own right protective of the eggs, the teams Hogwarts were anxious upon the nearing of their very First Task.

Classes were canceled for the historical day, as no one would be able to pay the least bit attention to the lecture when there was a tournament to watch, not to mention the opportunity to watch quality Quidditch with dragons.

Harry was freaking out. (Internally).

That is until Moody had called all of them up (his 'Team', if you can call it that.) into his office after he had Transfigured Draco Malfoy into a ferret, Harry and his fellow Gryffindors needing a moment to silence their chuckles to their Slytherin mates' ire.

The bloody git deserved it, okay?

"So," Moody stated gruffly to them after detaching his prosthetic and flicking out his wand, all seated on foot stools and random surfaces. "What are the lot of you going to do 'bout your dragons?"

Silence was the answer until Cedric opened his mouth. "Flint, Wood and Montague to distract the dragons… somehow… as Davis, Johnson and I score points…?"

Moody's sigh was audible. Harry would have sympathized if he were not just as helpless as Cedric. 

"Listen, the lot of you." Moody's dichromatic eyes glared into theirs. "Your competitors, as I am sure, you know, are not playing. Krum may have a head of sawdust and a team that follows him blindly but Karkaroff would be damned to not let his prized pig be made a fool of. Akashi and his team are the best of the world and you can be sure that Matsumoto will be more than happy to let them go after you like frenzied dementors that have found a wounded babe.

They both have strategies that use their strengths, now each of you, think. What are your strengths as Hogwarts' students? What makes you lot better than the prodigies of Mahoutokoro and the strength of Durmstrang?"

"Um… I'm great with Transfiguration…?" Diggory shrugged. Harry felt just as lost as his captain.

"Better than great for you, Diggory, if your grades aren't lying to me." Moody snapped, going down the line.

"Johnson, yours in Care of Magical Creatures, Davies, you in History of Magic, Flint and Montague in the field as brutal Beaters with a track of fouls and Wood doing a job of deflecting them. And lastly, Potter. You are more than decent as a flier. Do not let the professionals intimidate your skill, boy. They are boys still too, just like you."

"But sir… We don't have our wands."

"You have your broom and your team, Potter." Moody growled before pointing to his teammates.

"Ever hear of wandless magic? There's a bloody reason you're too young to enter this thing. Leave the magic to your team, boy. None of you are alone in this tournament. Remember that. This is not the time for you lot to be fight amongst yourselves. Not when you have a common opponent to waste it on."

The library was sparse as Harry tried to help Johnson in researching more in deflecting dragons, (Hermione being his god-send after she had given him a list of books to sort through) while Wood and their Slytherin Beaters tried to not kill one another as they practiced maneuvers to avoid the dragons, Diggory supervising (No murder watch. OW—! Hermione, it's true!).

Davies was in another section of the library, trying to look in the records of anything helpful to glean for the First Task . By the end of the second hour, it was a miracle that they had yet to murder one another, Harry thought to himself.

Though he did notice the prominent bruising on his House captain's sides and the more-than-obvious red welts that were suspiciously the same size of Wood's broom on Flint's face, not to mention Diggory's nervous smile as they joined them in the library.

Nonetheless, the system may not have been the best but it worked, managing to get some kind of plan together.

But there was an event that was worth retelling as one afternoon while Harry was trying not to pommel Montague for his bad-talking of Hermione as a mudblood and Davies trying to resolve the issue with an exasperated Johnson, when a Mahoutokoro student had walked by, her badge a gleaming red as she rose a delicate eyebrow at their unusual — not so much anymore, really — situation before turning with a smooth twirl.

"Excuse me. Please resume, whatever it was what you were doing."

"Ah-I apologize for them." Angelina smiled tightly as she stopped the black-haired girl. "We did not mean to drive you away. Did you need something in this section?"

"Not at all." The girl replied smoothly, almost dreamlike in a way that reminded Harry of Luna as he reluctantly dropped the argument with Montague following as Davies sighed in relief. The girl smiled softly, as if jested by their antics. "I was simply passing by. We are... used to such sights, if you will. No need for an apology."

And with a curt nod, she left behind the bookshelves, Johnson frowning before looking to the nearest person to her, which happened to be Roger Davies. "Have you noticed?"

The Ravenclaw gave her an inquiring look. "I need context to answer that one, Johnson."

"The kids from Mahoutokoro, I meant." The Chaser clarified, pointing a thumb at the Japanese girl's direction. "They're kind of isolated and quiet. Even at meals or classes, they only talk amongst themselves or Durmstrang. It's been more than a month since they've come to Hogwarts and yet the only time I've seen their team is when they have to be there. I don't think any of them have said anything more than that girl had to us just now."

The mention of the Kiseki made shivers prickle his skin as Harry rubbed his sides, Roger nodding in agreement.

"So, you noticed too. I wouldn't go as far as to say that they are isolated, but there is an unspoken polite barrier surrounding them. And remember, they do come from a different school, country, and side of the continent; the way they do things can be drastically different from what we do here."

"True." Angelina agreed. "But I can't help but have the feeling that there's something more to this tournament than just the winnings."

"Of course there is." Montague snapped in, folding his arms. "Our bloody lives — there are wizards that have died doing this thing and I for one, am not planning to be one of them."

"And that's why we're trying to minimize that situation as much as possible, you dolt." Harry replied with a sigh, not in the mood for arguing as he pointed to the book before him. "Let's just get this over with."

Harry did not think that the conversation was very notable until he met with one of the Kiseki personally.

Kise Ryota was strolling through the wintered-over roads of Hogsmeade on one afternoon that Harry had decided to join Hermione for some Butterbeer, his golden hair easy to see in the white background. Snow crunched under the blonde's boots as he entered the Three Broomsticks, catching the attention of a number of ladies, who quickly crowded him at the entrance, squealing and cooing at his every move.

Harry instantly felt pity for him. Fame was a pain to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

But unlike him, the blonde basked in it, charming his admirers with easy smiles and elegant waves, clearly used to the borderline assault of proposals.

After a few minutes of signing things from a forehead to a stray napkin that Hermione swore that was hers, the blonde Chaser seated himself in a lone table, sending a wink to Madame Rosmerta, who set a cup of tea for him, blushing. "Here you are, dear."

"Thank you, miss." Kise replied smoothly before taking the mug. "Can you direct me to Honeydukes? I have a few errands to run."

Madame Rosmerta swooned under the gaze of the young Adonis before her. "On the other side of the road and three doors to the left, dearie. Anything else for your errands, love?"

Kise was unfazed by the name change as he shook the golden threads over those amber eyes that captivated every girl's heart (other than Hermione, who rolled her eyes), making Harry completely envious as a male to be that smooth. "No thank you, miss. Your instructions were very helpful as it was. But the thought was kind."

And with a click of two Galleons on the old table, way more than the cost of a simple cup of tea, the blonde Chaser left into the snow.

On his way, a Japanese song sang softly into Harry's ears, as the blonde pulling a hand to his ear, answering the call on his tan bluetooth.

Green eyes widened before Harry blinked confusedly, looking at Hermione, who mirrored the same look.

"Did you—?" Harry began before Hermione cut him off. "The bluetooth?"

Harry nodded as Hermione mirrored him.

"I thought technology could not be used in Hogwarts, Hermione."

"They shouldn't." The bushy-haired-girl frowned before kicking his shin under the table. "Go on."

Harry looked at her widely. "What?"

"Follow him! He could be talking about the First Task." She snapped, before shoving him towards the door. "Go! I'll cover the tab."

"I'd rather the tab." Harry mumbled but followed her directions as he stepped out to the winter wonderland of the November air, only to pause when an angry shout caught his attention.

Coming from the side of the bar but too muffled to be overheard, Harry peeked from the side as he saw the town was eerily empty. So, more of no one present to overhear. Shrugging, Harry veiled himself under the invisibility cloak, just in case.

"—moved from Japan just to not see you lot here anymore! And the five of you just show up here! For the event of the year!"

Kise's back was to Harry but even he could see the cold indifference in those shoulders. "We had no intention in coming here. If it wasn't for the ill-timed tournament that your school had invited us to, we wouldn't be here."

Harry could not pinpoint the first voice as it rang out at the blonde with a shrill huff, goading. "Couldn't even hold back to excel in Quidditch all together once you kicked out the old team, did you? As if the World Cup and the past three years was not good enough, you had to trample over others over here as well! Damn the lot of you! How dare you just —!"

Kise's voice was colder than the icy snow that dusted over their figures.

"If you want something to blame, blame the Mahoutokoro system. Or rather, look in the mirror. It's his fault. 

It is not our fault that Chang-senpai dropped from being in the Council to a No Name. To foolishly challenge the Gifted of Hachiman, not only for the seat of Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was also the one who thought that he was enough to be our captain by challenging Akashicchi after Coach decided that it wasn't him. To lose so pathetically, how dare he be so arrogant to believe that he could win against a Gifted, much less two?

So, it's not you that should be appalled by our arrogance. It is and was us by your brother's."

Numb fingers gripped his jacket as he watched the figure was frozen by the words, too shocked to say a retort as the blonde walked by, revealing his crush shaking in anger.

Cho Chang.

The Asian beauty that held his heart's affections. Harry held a breath he didn't know he did as the blonde paused in his stride, before turning to the girl, glinting amber eyes hooded by his hair.

"Chang-senpai wasn't much of a player, to have given up so easily after being put in his place by a couple of first years. Who were yet to be the monsters you want to project us as. Before hating on our success, look at your blood, Chang-kouhai. And see it for what that was, your blood may have been Noble, but he dared to have audacity to be more than that. Let us hope you do not harbor the same foolish thoughts."

And with the final nail on the coffin, the girl's walls were finally broken as tears trailed down her face, sobs soft in the powdery snow.

Harry did not move.

Not even when Cedric had come to pick up Cho only to find in the snow, her face puffy and eyes red from crying, he did not move.

Not even when they had left, not seeing the cloaked boy, he did not move.

He did not dare to.

Not after the small glow of gold in those amber eyes saw him, colder than the snow.

Perhaps, it was not because of culture that the Japanese had not given their fellow cohorts of differing nations the time of day but rather something much more than just an ill-timed tournament.

Harry shivered as he walked beside Hermione, ignoring her concerned looks, nothing to do with the cold.

Was that all this tournament was?

Ill-timed.

There were tragedies. Actual tragedies written of the Tournament from previous years. Hermione showed him. With horrifying detail. 

And all it was to the six of them was an ill-timed tournament?

The First Task began in the afternoon, appropriately after lunch as all of the teams gathered in the large tents, connected to a large community one that was adjacent to the arena, newly built just for the tournament.

Symbolized by a dragon in mid-roar with a golden badge in its grasp in a white and light blue background, six members of the Council strapped on their gear in their tent, consisting of matching blue and white jerseys (with accents of their specific divisions) that stitched their respective positions on the back as a cape flitted at their ankles, white shin and arm guards clipped to their limbs as fingerless gloves covered the delicate digits.

Murasakibara was offered the helmet as his position was allowed but the titan waved it aside, stating that it got in the way when he was snacking, which he was notably doing with some seaweed tempura.

Midorima busied himself with unwrapping his hands, clipping a teaspoon to his pocket, ensuring that his lucky item did not fall out while Kise and Aomine bickered lightly as they strapped on their gear, coming a bit late.

Akashi seated himself comfortably on one of the six beds in case any of them were seriously injured enough to be laid down, all finished, glancing around his team.

"Where is Tetsuya?"

"Hm?" Aomine looked up from his laces before glancing around. "Tetsu's… The hell? I swear he was right in front of me and Kise when we got here."

"Kurokocchi's missing?" Kise mirrored the ace, looking around like everyone who had started to look for their phantom other than Midorima, who tried to act as though he was not. "Where could he have gone to?"

"I'm right here."

All five boys jumped at the sudden appearance of their phantom who looked at them blankly, expression unreadable — all done in his equipment and preparation, standing at the tent entrance. Akashi regained his composure first. "Where did you go off to, Tetsuya?"

"Ah. I wanted to see what order the teams were going to go. It appears that you were correct, Akashi-kun. We are going last, right after Durmstrang." Kuroko replied before holding out his bluetooth in his palm. "And it appears that we cannot use these, having been determined as Magical Items."

"What a shame." Akashi smiled, not appearing at all surprised as he held out the other five. The others blinked before realizing that they were missing their version of Midorima's invention. "But not entirely unexpected. Momoi traced the source to be a Hermione Granger after Aomine's timely call to Ryota, the other day.

She is similar to Momoi in that she is also intelligent and resourceful, but not to the detail of our own manager just yet. Momoi is excited to have a rival in her field."

"So, this girl's just a Satsuki knock-off." Aomine grunted gruffly, taking one bed of his own.

"From what I've heard from those Hogwarts girls," Kise added as he shoved Aomine to make more room for him to sit too. "This girl is friends with Potter and in the same house with him, along with another boy, named with something with a W."

"Weasley." Akashi supplied as Kuroko stared. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, the youngest male of the Weasley House of purebloods, who are shunned from the other houses because they sympathize with Ningen or as they refer to them, Muggles or Mudbloods, for the racial slur."

"Sat-chin needs to research more." Murasakibara commented as Akashi nodded to the giant. "Too many holes here."

"I agree, Atsushi." Akashi glanced to the barrier surrounding their tent. "However, I'm afraid that our conversation will have to come to a close. The First Task is to begin, gentlemen."

And upon the captain's cue, within the arena, Dumbledore's voice boomed. "Your attention, please. This is a great day for all of us. Each of the three tasks involves very considerable danger. Please keep your seats at all times. This will minimize any risks you may be exposed to."

Oblivious to the anxious pacing of the champions other than a few, Dumbledore continued, finishing as the crowd cheered wildly. "I am sure that we wish each our champions the greatest of luck."

After a small mishap in the form of Rita Skeeter found sneaking in the Hogwarts' tent that was resolved by Wood, the Headmasters of the three schools appeared in the largest tent, calling out to their champions to gather in the main tent, the roar of the crowd booming as they cheered. Matsumoto took to his students as did Karkaroff and Dumbledore.

"Good day, champions." Dumbledore greeted as they heeded his words, Barty Crouch behind him with Bagman. "Gather round, please. Captains to the front. Now, you've waited, you've wondered, and at last, the moment has arrived." 

Appearing was a red and gold garbed Harry, each of his team members matching other than colors of their House while Durmstrang took to a united uniform of a rusted red and black. Akashi, Diggory and Krum at the front as the host Headmaster continued. "A moment only the nineteen of you can fully appreciate."

Gesturing to Mr. Crouch, Dumbledore nodded. "Barty, the bag."

"Captains, in a circle around me." Bartemius Crouch held a large velvet bag, noticeably smoking as he pointed to their respective places. Krum was first to the aged wizard's right, followed by Diggory and then finally, Akashi at the left, holding the bag before Krum first. "Mr. Krum, if you will."

With a tentative hand, the Seeker revealed a miniature dragon from his fist. It was no bigger than his palm, reptilian body a silvery blue as azure flames licked at its maws, golden eyes glaring at its future opponent in the arena.

"The Swedish Short-Snout."

Followed was Cedric, who gulped nervously before reaching into the bag, before pulling out at dragon slightly bigger than Krum's, covered in black rough scales and with an arrow-tipped tail. Brilliant purple eyes glowed with bloodlust as it licked its chops, smoke emitting from its nostrils.

"The Hebridean Black."

"And finally… Mr. Akashi."

The Horntail. Harry whispered mentally as the redhead pulled out a lizard-like dragon that was twice the size of Krum's, ivory spikes covering the body as leathery wings appeared ragged, the pointed spikes condensed at the head and tail as black scales contrasted dangerously with yellow orbs, slit and narrow with aggression.

But dared not to snap at the cold garnets pointed at him. "The Hungarian Horntail."

"These represent nine very real dragons. All of which has been given a golden egg to protect." Momoi's words mirrored to the letter.

"Your objective is simple: Collect the egg and score points. This you must do, for each egg contains a clue without which you cannot hope to proceed to the next task. The points will serve to gauge your rank for the lead of the tournament, to which only Chasers are able to score in the rings above the nest and only valid between the time you begin to the moment the Seeker retrieves the egg, to which only they may do so. All players have the right to fend off the dragons as best as you are able. The time limit given is one hour.

Any questions?"

There was a silent pause.

"Very well." Dumbledore took over. "Good luck, champions."

"Mr. Diggory, at the sound of the cannon, you and your team may…"

But none of the words from the kind Headmaster registered anymore, because, the First Task had finally begun.

Chapter Text

Harry rubbed his sweaty palms, all equipped and about to mount his broom, the cheers of the crowd booming in his ears. No words were needed to be exchanged as they lined up, Diggory and Potter at the front, the others uptaking the rear as the cannon sounded, signaling for their entrance.

Mounting on his Firebolt and boots geared at the stirrups, Harry willed his mind to blank, as he entered the arena. Cragged spears of rocks pointed toward him from the bottom of the arena as he lifted himself higher, needing an aerial vantage point. The arena was circular in size and several hundred meters deep, housing jagged boulders and small cliffs of granite; the audience making up the wooden stands at the outskirts, a suitable distance away from the Task.

But that was not what caught the young Seeker's attention. Where was the— there.

The dragons was exactly the same as the younger counterpart in all but size, as their fearsome form stretched thirty feet, ebony talons as sharp as knives and wingspan nearly twice their height as the leathery skin flapped at the arrival of the team, a roar escaping one of their maws. There was one female, her wings shielding the Golden Egg from view as the two males circled around her, jaws snarling.

Bright orange flames crackled with a ferocity as a ruby tongue licked at the fire, intimidating them to dare to complete their Task. The Golden Egg was protected by a curl of the female's weaponized tail, an arrow-shaped spike, and despite her chained form, she gripped the cliffside with ease, her defense impenetrable in that if any Chaser had dared to near the rings, the two males would most definitely would have torn them into shreds.

Very dead, and unable-to-bring-back shreds.

Gulping heavily, there was a moment of stillness, the team hovering what they perceived to be out of range from the dragons, glaring at them with brilliant amethyst eyes, as they felt a loss as to what to do.

Then all at once, it was decided for them. Shit.

With a mighty roar, a jet of bright flames assaulted Flint and Davies from the male on the right, having tired of waiting, recoiling immediately as that was also the moment the Quaffle was released for them to score points.

Angelina caught it first before making her way to the rings. Only to skid to a stop when grey talons threatened to disfigure her face from the other male, mere inches from her.

How the hell did it find her so fast?

Her hands felt sticky under her gloves. But she had no time to think on that. Frozen as the claws transcended upon her, Harry watched in horror as she made no indication to move.

"Move, you stupid git!" Montague bellowed as he kicked her broom from under her, sending her flailing but out of the way as he quickly muttered a spell with an outstretched hand. "Confundo!"

In response to the non-verbal magic, the male dragon snorted before clawing in the air, barely missing him. Montague wasted no time on staring as he quickly retreated. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw that Johnson was battered and scraped up, but relatively fine as she held the Quaffle tightly under her arm, grimacing.

"How the bloody hell are we going to get points if we can't even get by the dragons?" Harry frowned as he gripped his fists against his Firebolt. Even on his swift broom, the Boy Who Lived doubted that he could get to the Golden Egg. But as if reading his thoughts, Wood hovered beside him, face pulled to a tight frown.

"Potter. Leave that to us. You worry about the egg."

And with a mad charge, the Hogwarts Team truly began their Task.

As per tournament rules, during the performance of each Team, the other opposing Teams were not allowed to view their trials and were to await their own in their separate tents, however, that did not apply to Momoi Satsuki.

(It wasn't her fault that Hogwarts was first. Momoi shrugged as she walked toward the stands after the selection of the dragons with Hermione. Or was it?

"That's cheating." The British girl huffed.

"I would like it if you were to not accuse me of cheating, Granger-san. This is not cheating. Cheating is to use Magical Items, Potions, or Wands during the Task. Information is not one of those." Momoi smiled.

"Still—!"

Magenta eyes sharpened, razor thin. "You reported our own inventions as Magical Items and I applaud you for your observation skills. But to accuse me of cheating, especially when this is the only field I can assist my team with, is an insult to me and my pride as a manager. As if I would be lowly enough to degrade myself to cheat. Mine won the World Cup, Granger. With one player less than is recommended for every game as a handicap. I do not need to cheat for my school to win."

Leaving the girl speechless, Momoi forced the pleased smile from her expression as her heels clicked behind her.

To have the audacity to accuse her of all people to cheat. How unsightly.)

Upon one of the highest vanity in the arena with the banners of the respective schools behind her, the manager stared with knowing eyes as the Hogwarts Team maneuvered around the dragons that were stubbornly in their way from doing much of anything.

Moving a stray strand of pink locks from her bun, the manager ignored the cold, cloaked in a thick ebony fur coat.

Instead, her attention was upon the Task before her.

In the midst of it, Wood with one of the Slytherin Beaters managed to cover each of the Chasers — Davis, Johnson and Diggory — from getting themselves deterred by the male dragons too much to score their current score of one hundred and fifty.

None of them were without injury, even their idle Seeker was hurt when he had tried to dive for an apparent opening for the egg when they were sorely reminded of the female dragon's formidable tail, flicking aside the Boy Who Lived like a pesky insect, and would have nearly concussed upon jagged boulders if not for the broom under him.

But they hung tough. Momoi gave them that much.

Even after Montague had gone down, after being knocked into Diggory when they were trying to get out the way from fire, concussing himself on one of the craggy boulders.

They were stubborn and that got them one hundred and fifty points.

What she wanted to see was exactly how far it would get them.

Momoi opened a golden pocket watch. They had less than a quarter of the hour left to retrieve the egg and score.

Davis knew it as he shouted for them to hurry, grimacing in pain after sustaining a darkening bruise on his right shoulder after colliding with Flint after trying to avoid dragonfire. Along with a bloody face of rock, a shower of debris from one of the male's talons had barely missed him.

Momoi scribbled into her clipboard. 

Diggory waved a hand over a boulder, Transfiguring it into a large cow before Johnson and Wood sent charms and curses near-directly at the cow to force it in the male dragons' line of sight, as Flint dodged out of the way. And as they planned, males' attention honed on the easy prey immediately.

Leaving the female for them to deal with, as Flint shouted curses at the dragoness, grabbing her to attention to snarl at him as she turned away, crushing one of the eggs in the nest.

Minus five points.

There was an opening.

And as Momoi had thought, the Boy Who Lived succeeded. He had no other choice.

Nearly an hour later, the manager turned away as the audience cheered for Krum to seize the Golden Egg, his team having had a current score of two hundred.

Minus fifteen points.

Momoi had no interest in such sportsmen, the wood creaking beneath her boots as she left.

The only ones that had ever interested her were in her care. Momoi was thankful that Akashi had issued her as the personal manager of the six of them, indefinitely. Like he was to always be their captain, she was also was always their manager.

Their statistics were the ones she knew best and yet the ones that one couldn't know, for they were always improving. Always changing.

Untamable by but one.

Satsuki lifted the tent flap, magenta eyes steely as she entered.

Meeting multicolored gazes, the happy-go-lucky lady of the Council smirked before speaking. "Ready?"

Her boys never disappointed. Perhaps when it came to the more delicate matters.

But in the world of basketball and Quidditch, they were unmatched.

The afternoon was still young as the cloudy English weather gave fogged visibility for the final team to undertake the First Task. From the audience, the host Headmaster's voice resonated loudly overhead, amplified by the wand at his throat.

"Two of our Champion Teams have now faced their dragons and obtained the item of which will lead them to their Second Task. And now, our third and final Team…"

With Akashi in the lead, the six of them emerged from the crevice to the many cheers of the audience, only to have an ivory tail imbed itself upon their entrance, nearly taking out Kise if the blonde had not swerved in time, grabbing the released Quaffle upon a high cliff.

"Oi, oi." Kise laughed, as he zigzagged through the boulders alone in the arena, while the other five had taken to the horizons, sixty feet above the dragons. There were two male dragons and the aggressive female that just struck, spaced away from one another more than the previous two herds.

"That was close, dragon-san. What would my fans say if you disfigure me?"

With a blur of speed, the blonde disappeared with a snap of his fingers. Confused, the male dragons clawed around the arena for their prey, nostrils flared with sparks, eager to without a doubt, burn them beyond recognition. But they had yet to realize that most of them were above, the dragons with a reach of suitable distance despite being chained.

Obviously, a favorable time for the exchange of banter.

"Tch. A feisty thing you chose, Akashi." Aomine muttered as they stared at the beast below, ignoring the audience's cries and cheers. "And of course, it's this one that we have to go against in this stupid thing."

"Enough, Daiki." Akashi reprimanded firmly. "We have three dragons to dispose of. You may voice your complaints after the Task is over. Shintarou, the time?"

"Fifty-four minutes and forty-two seconds."

Humming to himself softly, the captain smirked. "Then, let us begin."

Splintering off, the five of them flew off into differing directions, making the dragons choose.

Kise, who reappeared with them, and Aomine for each of the males, while the female remained. (So, they were not entirely stupid.)

While Aomine led one of them to the other side of the valley, speeding through with apparent ease, the other flew towards the other Chaser. Lured by the scent of blood on the Quaffle, one of the male dragons clawed after the blonde on the Firebolt, who maneuvered through the crevices of the deep valley that made up the arena before passing it off to a seemingly empty space. 

Snapping after it, the dragon felt itself being pulled back, having gotten itself tied up within its chains, Aomine, showing up from a hidden crevice to make the lunging other male collide with the first in a heap.

Snarling at one another in frustration, but unharmed, the dragons quickly resumed their chase. But they were too late.

The Quaffle had made its way to the hands of Midorima somehow ("Did you see that? The Quaffle just bent to him!"), who scored immediately despite the distance, sending the Quaffle to a random direction the moment, it passed the ring.

Racing after it, both the male dragons and the players, Akashi caught it before passing it towards Aomine, who swiftly zoomed towards the rings, the male dragons at his heels. But with the swiftness of a panther, the tanned male grinned with glee at his snapping entourage.

Levitating a stone with his other hand, the tanned male grabbed it in mid-air before whispering a combustion spell under his breath. Then, like a hand grenade, it exploded in front of the female dragon's snout as he passed her, issuing a mighty roar before Aomine scored. Annoying her more than hurting her.

As for the female's male companions, Murasakibara summoned a small purple orb in his hand, growing in size as he threw it to the crowd's surprise, to incase one of the male dragon's in a bubble, impenetrable and immune to the flames. Trapped, the beast remained there, lashing his wrath on the walls that did not budge in the slightest. The other was distracted by Midorima's Transformation of a series of boulders into a small fountain of blood, luring the beast to the other side of the valley.

Ricocheting into the hands of Kuroko as the Quaffle was randomly released once more, the phantom was finally noticed ("Where did he come from!?"), his sky-blue mop of hair should have making him memorable. But sadly, in the midst of his middle school teammates, he was very much invisible as he found himself before the remaining male dragon, not even seeing him.

But smelling was different.

The ball was covered in blood, lure for the dragon. But so was the fountain.

Disorientated, the beast snapped at Tetsuya blindly, as he drove past the mythical being before palming it to Murasakibara, who quickly threw it into the left ring as the male searched for Tetsuya, who had slipped away. Burning the blood fountain, he quickly found the Quaffle.

In Akashi's hands.

But it was Kise's turn to score as Akashi passed him the Quaffle, when the blonde decided to play something new. Scanning as he rolled under a narrow valley, momentarily escaping male dragon, he saw his opportunity.

"MURASAKIBARACCHI~ Cover me!"

"Eh~?" The giant hummed, before nearing Kise. "Why Kise-chin?"

("...A-Are they... talking while they are being chased by a dragon?"

The Hogwarts boy stared, jaw dropped. A Mahoutokoro girl with a green badge sighed.

"What is wrong with them?!"

She stared back to the boy, dead-eyed. "If we knew that, we would have fixed this years ago.")

"I'm going to help Kurokocchi score! Lend me a hand!"

"Kuro-chin?"

"I cannot score, Kise-kun." As expected, Kuroko was calm, even with a dragon chasing after him and his friends.

"KUROKOCCHI~! Don't let anyone tell you that~! Kurokocchi is amazing, if you can score in basketball, you can for sure score in Quidditch~!" And Kise was still enthusiastic as ever. But at least had the brain cells to not hug him. He still did it sometimes in the beginning of the games.

"Tetsu can't score because he's the Seeker in this thing, stupid! Only Chasers can score, dumbass! Tetsu's only allowed to fight off that dragon, pass and get that goddamn egg! Not score!" Oh, look. Aomine's here.

"Honestly, Kise, you are being scolded by Aomine of all people, for not paying attention. Not that it is any of my business." And Midorima. Wow, everyone is just gathering over here.

"EH!?" Kise nearly fell off his broom, as they all dodged another jab of that deadly tail, not even looking at the dragon following them. The audience gasped in unison at the close brush. "Aominecchi was paying attention in the meeting?!"

"OI!" Aomine scowled, opting to continue in the conversation instead of the dragon still chasing them as he glowered at the tsundere. Nevermind, the dragon—hey, there's two now! "And the hell are you saying 'of all people' for, Midorima?"

"You have to admit, Daiki, that is startling news." Please insert amused Akashi smile here. Thank you. (With billowing red hair that is dramatically perfect for full experience as he and his team are still being chased by the now furious dragon dragons trying to crush them.)

"Mine-chin is learning." The purple giant removed his finished lollipop with a loud smack, before throwing the stick accurately at the yellow eye of the female dragon, giving the beast a glare. "Only I can say I'm going to crush people, stupid dragon."

The female dragon was left in the dust as she roared, no one but the audience cared. The male continued the chase.

"Please score already, Kise-kun." And cue Kise bullying time.

"Kise! Hurry up! If you're not going to score, pass it to Tetsu so that I can!"

"This is why Geminis are no good today."

"Kise-chin needs more help than Kuro-chin~ It seems like~"

"Ryota. Do I have to double your training this week, again?"

"YOU ALL ARE SO MEAN TO ME~!" Kise threw the Quaffle into the center ring in the end, after Kuroko had passed it to him instead of Aomine, who cursed as the male dragon spat a jet of flames toward them, forcing them to disperse again.

("Are they always... like this?" Hermione stared, stunned with the rest of the audience at what they just witnessed.

The Mahoutokoro boy with a red badge looked pensive for a moment before replying. "Actually... this is rather, uh... tame for them."

"I-I see." Ron said weakly.)

The phantom had managed to grab the ball while Kise was being scolded.

And the Task continued like so.

To which a Miracle would catch the Quaffle, outmaneuver the dragon with magic, ability, or passing with ease before scoring, then repeat, coming out of it virtually harmless.

The audience response which began with awe and admiring cheers degraded into stares of numbly stunned cohorts and professors at the six-membered team of underaged prodigy wizards played Quidditch by themselves with three Horntails, one of the most dangerous dragons of the European lands, like it was nothing. 

Hell, they were even bantering with one another in the middle of the damned Task.

Kuroko glanced at the score. Oh, how this brought back memories.

Sighing, Kuroko slipped away from the attention not that he had it in the first place, as Midorima and Murasakibara escaped the reach of the now remaining female dragon, since Kise managed to pin the other male in a binding charm as the blonde and Aomine were now arguing in the background over the Quaffle. Akashi looked at him with amused eyes before nodding to his phantom, both looking to Midorima, who mouthed the time.

With half an hour left over, Kuroko reached for the golden egg. Ready for the picking.

The announcement was as loud and pompous as expected.

Hogwarts with the final score of 295 with the Golden Snitch, was third, much to the dismay of gamblers who bet for the host school who hoped for an under-dog victory. Though, it was not comparable to the supporters of the Durmstrang Team who held the score of 335, fifteen points deducted for making the dragon trample upon one of the eggs while the Hogwarts Team was deducted five for injury.

But none held more ire and jealousy but those who gazed upon the score of Mahoutokoro, which was an overwhelming 400 as the fans of the World Cup knew all too well that it was the same score that the Japanese Team had beaten the Bulgarians with.

The 400 stood over the 295 and 325 like a high tower sneering. With no subtractions since the dragons were not harmed and neither were the eggs. Merely annoyed.

("They would never account for psychological needs, Tetsuya." Akashi smirked as they overlooked the scores. "Then again, if they had, we wouldn't be participating."

"Sanity is not required to play basketball or Quidditch, Akashi-kun."

"Neither is it to be a Gifted."

Kuroko sighs, a tendril of shadow curling over his fingers. "No, it is not.")

Hermione pointed it out, explaining that it was a slap in the face to Durmstrang and an insult to Hogwarts.

That even with dragons chasing them, the Kiseki were as formidable as they were in the World Cup and to shrug at the Bulgarians with a scoff, as if asking, "Were you perhaps asleep in the midst of your Task or were you that bad?"

While the insult to Hogwarts was that despite their effort, the English wizards were ignored in favor for the re-match.

Unacknowledged.

Harry found that most insulting to his ire.

Hogwarts took the entire hour, Durmstrang in forty-two minutes and lastly, Mahoutokoro in half an hour — the power plays were set and now. In good news, however, Hogwarts was once again united (although reluctantly by a certain green House) behind their Team seeing how that they had actually managed to exceed the expectation of being left in the dust when they were merely short several goals to escape last place.

After the announcement, the champions were gathered unceremoniously, as the six Hogwarts' students were fresh from the infirmary, Durmstrang disgruntled by being interrupted in the midst of a nap while Mahoutokoro was annoyed in basketball shorts and tees with their manager passing out water bottles and towels.

Only to be informed that their Second Task was to be on the 24 of February at 9:30 in the morning, the golden eggs to hold a hint.

("There's something called 'recovery period'." Aomine grumbled, his wet towel their only saving grace from being subjected to his glare. "Or maybe, tell us after we were done playing basketball instead of this bullsh—"

"What my teammate means to say," Akashi cut in with a dark smile. "Is that, is it really that necessary to inform us of the Second Task so soon?"

Crouch frowned. "It has been two hou—"

"We will make the proper arrangements next time." Dumbledore smiled genially.

No need for students to hurt one another just yet. There was two other Tasks for that, after all.)

Afterwards, Harry found himself outside of the classroom that they had gathered at, Hermione and Ron awaiting him, the latter having made up with his mate after realizing that Harry was telling the truth.

Only to find that they were not alone as Ron ran into Kuroko, who was the first to exit of his team.

"Kurokocchi! Are you alright?!" Kise knelt beside the phantom immediately, as the rest exited the doors to see the commotion, to find the copy-cat help the phantom up before glaring at Ron. "Watch where you're going, you gaijin! You could have hurt Kurokocchi!"

"Sorry, mate!" Ron cried out, looking apologetically at Kuroko, who was being fussed over by Momoi and Kise before shouting indignantly at the blonde. "Hey, what did you call me?!"

"Kise, the hell happened? What did they do to Tetsu?"

Kise being the blabbermouth he was, happily indulged the others, while Kuroko stated that it was an accident and happened so many times that he was used to it. The phantom was lovingly ignored much to his unperceived resignation as the six others assessed the three. (silently threatened with glaring eyes)

"It was an accident!" Harry blurted in his best friend's behalf, standing before the colorful cohorts.

Gods, they were tall. And scary. Yeah, that was the correct term.

Akashi's red eyes relented a bit at the proclamation before looking to Kuroko, who had nodded his agreement.

"It was, Potter-kun." Everyone but Akashi reacted to the phantom's appearance. "Weasley-kun did not see me and accidentally ran into me. It is not his fault that I have low presence. Please do not hurt Weasley-kun everyone. And no, I am not just referring to his autonomy physically."

The Trio stared at the sky-blue haired boy as if he had proclaimed jumping in a lake with piranhas was a safe way to learn swimming. Akashi and the other Miracles, in the other hand, internally pouted at the wasted opportunity to ruin someone without legitimacy as their leader quickly resolved the situation with a small smirk of amusement.

"Please, Tetsuya, if Weasley and his friends did not mean such offense, we would not have any reason to exercise such measures." The 'yet' at the end of that sentence was not blind to anyone. "I apologize for our rudeness. We are not in the best of moods."

Honestly, did these so-called wizards not know the importance of basketball?

"It's no problem." Hermione smiled, taking the moment to introduce herself and the others. "I am Hermione Granger and these are my friends, Ronald — It's Ron! — Weasley and Harry Potter."

"Although we had seen each other in your classes, it is nice to formally meet you all." The female Gryffindor continued, before her chocolate eyes gleamed with curiosity. "But I could not help but ask what that word you called Ronald earlier, was it in Japanese?"

"Do you mean 'gaijin'?" Momoi tilted her head to the side as Ron blushed at the sight, making Hermione bristle ever so slightly before nodding at the question.

"That translates into 'foreigner' in our language." Midorima informed, lifting his glasses to his eyes. "As this is also a foreign land to us. Just as we are to you."

Harry winced. "You noticed?"

"Hard not to when you are constantly being stared at." Momoi giggled sweetly. Harry questioned briefly if this was also the same girl that laughed at his expense when he was intimidated by her team.

The British children blushed at their cohorts' actions as they tried to salvage the conversation, Hermione speaking. "Our apologies on behalf of Hogwarts. How are all of you enjoying Hogwarts?"

The seven were silent for a split-second, eyes having a silent conversation when the most invisible of them all answered, his blank eyes revealing nothing. "It is a nice school, Granger-san. Dumbledore-kocho and the other staff are very kind and welcoming to us all."

"I'm glad to hear that, Kuroko!" Hermione smiled, before side-eyeing Ron. "Congratulations on your score in the tournament! Fred and George were enthusiastic over the results in particular."

The red-head held his hands up in surrender. "Fred and George are a handful, even with Mum around."

"Betting in a school event. Disgraceful." The girl sniffed as Harry looked at the Kiseki curiously, before asking them if they ever gambled. Did Japan have laws on such age restrictions too?

Only to receive a surprising reaction as Akashi smirked with an amused glint in his ruby eyes and Midorima lifting his glasses to reveal an ominous sparkle in them, as if asking someone to dare for them to gamble once more.

Even more so, was the possessive grip that Kise had over his phone, Aomine turning a sickly green, Momoi blushing deeply as her smile was forcibly embarrassed (Yeah. She was the same one.), Murasakibara appearing stoic but Harry caught the small chill behind the hand that held a large cookie — When did he…? How…? — while Kuroko remained with his usual face paralysis.

"It does not turn out well, Potter-kun, when we gamble against one another."

Harry was almost scared to ask why. Almost.

Kuroko's blank eyes stared deep into his soul before looking at his middle-school teammates.

Memories of sabotage, various objects defiled in ways they shouldn't have been — sweets thrown into crowds of fangirls, hacked social media, unholy curses, shredded magazines, blackmail, Ignite-Passed lucky items, crushed phones, and spilt milkshakes — and some very, very bad food by someone who would remain anonymous to readers clouded the mind before the phantom turned away.

"Let's not get into details, Potter-kun."

Harry wisely left it at that.

Midorima frowned, his expression displeased yet mildly impressed. Mildly, mind you.

Not that he would ever admit that.

Akashi had assigned both himself, Kuroko and Kise to the task of solving the hint within the Golden Egg after the fiasco that was Kise's fault when the blonde had voiced the question of 'What on earth could have been in the Oha-Asa damned thing?'

But out of the need for his own self-interest (Keep telling yourself that, Midorima.), he remained in the room as Kise insisted for Kuroko to open the latch at the top of the egg.

Only for the most horrifically banshee cry screamed into his ears, assaulting all of them as they all immediately grabbed for their temples, enclosing their poor ears, eyes widening from Akashi's split-second fraction to Kise's wide dinner plates.

After what could have been an eternity, the egg's screaming finally ceased by Momoi, having been awakened by the egg, thinking it was her alarm.

(They all stared at her.

She shrugged, stating she was a deep sleeper.

They all decided that they didn't want to know.)

Needless to say, Midorima was not too keen to listen to it again for clues as he looked away to see Kise knelt before the egg. Muttering under his breath as the hybrid of alchemy scriptures and ancient runes that wrote themselves on the floor of the blonde's training grounds, surrounding the egg, not screaming yet — Kise nodded to him, array complete.

Thank Oha-Asa.

The script glowed an electric yellow before they faded to an ebony embedded into the white tiles as the protective shield and soundproof barrier was implemented. "Kise-kun has been practicing extensively."

A glance to his own collection of ancient runes and Transformation texts, Kuroko nodded to him as well, calm. "And so has Midorima-kun."

Only to be tackled by the blur known as Kise.

Blinking in surprise, the tsundere composed himself. "Kuroko. Of course, did you expect me to be as oafish as Aomine?"

From the other side of the ship, Aomine sneezed, the very well-endowed character dying in his game.

"Not at all, Midorima-kun." Kuroko jabbed the blonde. Who was now sprawled on the ground, withering in pain. They ignored him. "Please do not scold Aomine-kun too much. He is gentler than he appears."

Aomine died once more, the character impaling itself on a spike because of another sneeze, followed a string of very creative curses.

Midorima kept his silence, taking to not commenting as he sighed before addressing the matter at hand. "I suppose Akashi has informed you of Murasakibara and Aomine's own discoveries with the egg?"

Kuroko recited it. "It is impenetrable in every aspect other than to open the latch, and filled with a gelatinous membrane that produces the sounds that we hear from it when opened. Akashi-kun believes that the sounds that the egg produces are the riddle seeing how we are suppose to open it."

"B-But how can anyone hear that to be anything more than incessant screaming?" Kise added in the conversation, standing up with a wince.

Nodding, Midorima frowned. "That's the problem, the sounds in question make no sense."

The phantom pointed out the obvious which as not apparent to either of them. "Perhaps it's in a different language, Midorima-kun?" Pointing to the ring on his finger, Kuroko elaborated. "Similar to when other languages that we are not familiar with are spoken, the sounds are unfamiliar and strange, like unnecessary noise. You and Kise-kun would know that best with your invention."

"Hm." The chartreuse male hummed as the blonde's eyes sparkled with awe for his mentor.

"But what language, Kurokocchi? I doubt that they would make it very challenging, seeing how we are students."

The sixth man nodded. "I agree, Kise-kun. But they would not make it as easy as to have the language be the ones that we are immediately fluent in — English, Japanese or Bulgarian — that would be too obvious."

"That would not be a problem." Midorima's glasses glinted sharply as he lifted them with his wrapped fingers, his frown determined in an annoyed frown. Grabbing a few of the texts and throwing one to Kise after telling him to turn to a particular page, the digits flipped the pages swiftly as the blonde caught on, drawing a new array. "If the language is not obvious to us, then all we have to do is to make it obvious."

"I will assist." Kuroko nodded, picking up the leftover books before an amused glint gleamed. "Make it obvious to Aomine-kun as well, Midorima-kun. It has been tiring to explain to him about everything but basketball."

"Basketball idiot." Midorima muttered while Kise laughed, but they knew that it was without heat as the bespectacled male brushed off the phantom, stating that he was to do as he wished.

Meanwhile, in the other side of the ship, Aomine sneezed once more before cursing and throwing aside his controller in a fit of frustration, which accurately sent Murasakibara's chips flying out of his hands.

A moment of silence was heard before all hell broke loose.

Chapter Text

Multicolored eyes glared forlornly into the television with varied expressions before with a final click, black spilling into the screen like ink, the silence loud.

The Winter Cup had just been won by Rakuzan once more with the following line up: Seiren, Yosen, Shutoku, Tou and finally, Kaijo. The less than exciting matches without their aces or respective Kiseki was blatant and painfully obvious as they watched the finals, against Seiren and Rakuzan, mirroring the missed Inter-High as well.

The silence was considered golden as it was not often that the seven of them were quiet together.

But to anyone looking in, they would have considered it mildly disturbing and wary, even more so reluctant to break.

However, it was a soft ping from the television that broke it.

It was another invention that allowed the seven of them access to technology even in the confines of magic, this time a collaboration between Aomine, Midorima and Momoi as it flashed with an incoming call from six different people, each from their teams. Glancing at the time, Akashi found that it well into the afternoon, which meant that their teams were calling in directly after the match, most likely deciding to video call all of them through their respective phones. Sighing softly, Akashi stood first before nodding to everyone.

Each broke off to their respective lines to their chambers (Momoi trailing behind Aomine), they all steeled themselves before answering.

"Sei-chan!" Reo's feminine smile greeted him as he could see Kotaro and Eikichi in the background arguing over whom got to hold the trophy for their victory. "Did you watch the match?"

Akashi smiled softly, before lifting his glasses, an office in the background. "Yes, I did, Reo. You all did well with my absence and congratulations on your victory over Seiren."

"Reo-nee! Is that Akashi?! Let us talk to him too!" Kotaro shouted in the back as Akashi kept his amused and small smile, despite himself as they all began to regale him of the events he missed even though he had watched the match.

In another chamber was Murasakibara, who hummed in nonchalance as his gorilla captain lectured him for snacking at such a time when they had just lost a game against Rakuzan again in the Winter Cup. All while Muro-chin was wishing Atsushi well in France but ended up promising to send Japanese snacks, several boxes worth.

"Eh? Gorilla-captain was here too~?" Murasakibara blinked, his mouth chewing on some creme biscuits. "When did you get here~? Didn't you leave the team already?"

"… I WAS THE ONE WHO CALLED YOU…!" The former captain then proceeded to cry out about no respect for the captain. No one spared him much of a glance as random passerby whispered behind cupped hands.

("What a strange man!"

"You must be new to the basketball scene, ma'am. This is rather common sight.")

"Former captain." Kensuke corrected, lax and uncaring behind the crying captain. "We graduated. Remember?"

"Ah~ That's right." Murasakibara nodded, all of them ignoring the former captain who sulked further.

Kise was arguably no better, as he pouted at the call from Kasamatsu, who glared the best he could along with a stern bellow since he was not present in the physical form to kick their ace. "Mou! Even Kasamatsu-senpai and senpai-tachi are there~! I wanna see~!"

"Who's fault is it that only Hayakawa and Nakamura are the only senior players? That stupid photoshoot of yours took you from the team as our ace. What did you think was going to happen, Kise?!"

"It's not my fault, senpai!" The blonde whined. "It's the stupid agency's! They won't let me decline from this photoshoot at all!"

"So, where are you this time?" The former captain managed out before shouting at the others to shut up, inducing a genuine smile from the blonde as he began to complain and whine about time-zones and the sweltering sun in Spain, mentioning that he had the best room service in the five-star hotel he was staying in.

Across the wing, Aomine lounged at his couch with a severely disinterested expression as Momoi greeted the Tou regulars, both former and current as she sent a look to Aomine to do the same. He didn't.

Ignoring her, he said the first thing on his mind. "Couldn't throw up that last three-pointer, could you, Sakurai?"

Sakurai proceeded to apologize for existing. Profusely.

"Dai-chan!" Momoi slapped his shoulder as Imayoshi cleared up the air before Wakamatsu or she could begin yelling.

Although, Sakurai was already apologizing in the background, continuing to do so even before the call began.

"Now, now, Aomine. Sakurai has done well as well as the other regulars to assist in filling up the hole that our ace has left." The bespectacled former captain reprimanded lightly, well aware of silent jabs he sent to his former ace. "The files that Momoi-chan had sent us were very useful in defeating Kaijo."

"Satsuki?" He sent a surprised look at his manager who huffed.

"Honestly, Dai-chan. The moment we came to America, the only thing that is in your head is joining the NBA. You need to remember that you are still a part of Tou Academy."

"Oi, Aomine!" Wakamatsu's voice bellowed into the bachelor pad as the blonde captain shoved his face into the camera, his ticked off face clear. "You better be practicing over there, you bastard."

"Tch." The tanned male merely rolled over, the blonde completely ignored.

In a more sophisticated air, Midorima moved his glasses over his eyes as he waved off Takao's teases, clearly mistaking his questions for concern for his team. Clearly. As if that were to be the case, the tsundere huffed, when it was obvious that if the team had suffered without his presence, then that was a clear indication that he had chosen wrong. (Whatever you say, Midorima.)

But the Teikou vice-captain wasn't fooling anyone, least of all, Takao.

"Shin-chan~! You forgot the rickshaw!"

"Takao. That is for you to care for upon my return, I have a driver for my needs in Germany. Scorpio was told to be particularly slow today, as usual, Oha-Asa never ceases to be wrong." The green-haired male frowned.

"Oi, Yuya." His former captain smiled with a tick mark. "Get me a pineapple."

"I've got it." Their former power forward, Kimura revealed, holding the fruit out of nowhere. "But we have a problem, Miyaji. Midorima is over in Germany."

"Then we'll send it! Then that brat can smash it on his own head."

Midorima silently recalled to himself that his former captain was also a Scorpio and that Cancers were foretold to not have mixed well with them today. He glanced at his tub of body lotion before lingering over the end call icon, perhaps it was more convenient to call them another time. 

Without his former captain and Takao present.

In the other hand, Kuroko was currently in the midst of a very typical dilemma of his everyday life.

His teammates were unaware of his presence… even though Kagami, his current basketball light, was the one to call him and were at Maji Burger. Silently peeved at the missed chance for a vanilla milkshake, the phantom spoke up when he noticed his name was mentioned.

"I wonder how Kuroko is doing in Germany?"

"I am fine, Kagami-kun. Thank you for asking."

All at once, the Seiren team scrambled up from their booth and searched wildly for their absent shadow. "Kuroko?!"

Kuroko was currently having a great up-close view of his light's hand. Who knew Kagami-kun had such dry hands?

"On the phone, Kagami-kun. Please use lotion, Kagami-kun. Your hands are dry."

Kuroko proceeded to speak to his teammates through the phone, making sure to keep up his story along with the rest of the Teikou graduates. As the phantom spoke, he glanced ever-so-slightly at hour.

It was nearing time for basketball practice.

Bidding all farewell and congratulations for getting as far as the finals, Kuroko hung up, sighing. He missed home.

Skipping to the following week was a idle Kuroko in his chambers, in the dead of night, brewing particularly volatile mix.

Aches on his body reminded him of the training that afternoon, the next step in Akashi's hellish training regime, fitted for each of them based on capability. Naturally, his was the easiest but nonetheless, it left the phantom worshipping the blessed floor of the grounds with the rest of his cohorts, careful to not push the unspoken boundary — with one nudge at a time.

Well-known to only the Kiseki and their respective teams, the five prodigies had one weakness — overuse of their monstrous strength.

Kuroko was no exception, as his was more complicated, he was fragile and delicate compared to his teammates, but none who have caught the Ignite Pass or Kai could have said that it was easily done — he was the phantom sixth man of the Kiseki no Sedai for a reason.

Glancing at the clock, Kuroko awaited until witching hour before dropping in four droplets of wisteria. Blank eyes stared through goggles as gloved hands lowered the materials. The surface rippled, shivering as the poison blotted away the lilac coloration into a colorless hue. Pipetting one vial for Murasakibara-kun to analyze, Kuroko hummed to himself, jotting down notes.

The European wisteria was more traceable than the Japanese counterpart - has a lavender odor and less viscous.

How disappointing. Kuroko hummed to himself.

The Dark Arts is harder than most would believe, little one. Izanami states soothingly. Sole sunset eye coy, a black skeletal hand cradles an alabaster cheek. The European's version of the Draught of Death, or as we call it, The Sleeping Death contains too many poisons.

Kuroko nods. He had the pleasure of being present when Murasakibara-kun had brewed it last week.

Lilac in color, it ate up the leaf that was thrown in within several seconds, causing both the Potions Master and the Dark Arts Master to frown.

Yes, it was powerful. Yes, it ate away at living things. Yes, if they were to administer it, all of them would have died.

But how was that practical?

If he wanted to kill an individual, he did not need for poison to melt their insides and leave a mess. Not to mention, to brew such a potent potion was not easy, narrowing the pool of suspects quickly to a small number.

It was sloppy. Not to mention what moron wouldn't notice that their drink ate away most of their wine?

It was no different from an acid.

Too many poisons in one potion only made them counteract one another.

Kuroko had no interest in poisons that killed. He had plenty of those.

More dangerous, and more subtle ones. 

Glancing at the other poisons supplied by Murasakibara-kun, Kuroko pulled out several other cauldrons. He was interested in those substances that took away magic. Damaged the magical gene beyond recovery. Dulled the bond between master and wand to incompetence. And what made regular humans become magical to make them ordinary once more.

Because making them die in their sleep was much too merciful.

Aomine blinked at the girls that stared up at him on his way to the classroom, giggly and hiding their smiles behind dainty hands that had never lifted anything above ten pounds. They were Hogwarts students, two from the House that the 'Chosen One' was from and another two from one of the others… probably.

He had stopped listening when they had started to giggle every two words.

Satsuki was clingy to her shadow when she got lovey-dovey-eyed with Tetsu, but other girls, it was…just annoying.

The basketball idiot was, without a doubt, an idiot, but that did not mean he was ignorant enough to believe that there weren't people who were only interested in him for their own benefit.

That lesson was well-learned in middle school.

("The Gifted of Hachiman..."

"The god of war and warriors. Protector of the Imperial House.")

However, before the navy-haired male could play heartbreaker, Midorima had cut in, appearing beside him. "Aomine. Akashi has called for us. Now."

Aomine knew better than to refuse the command of Satan's right hand, as he quickly rejected the hearts of the foreign girls — they didn't have the correct rack anyway — making his way past the halls of Hogwarts before entering the classroom.

Still filled with students with yellow and violet badges, the sharp-shooter and ace of the Kiseki acknowledged the bows in their direction with their own versions of acknowledgment — a half-hearted nod and a discreet glance — before making their way to Kise and Murasakibara.

"…Aomine was just asked earlier." Midorima's voice sounded, taking the ace from his thoughts. At the mention of his name, he blinked at the sharp-shooter.

"What? Who asked me what?"

"We were talking about the Yule Ball, Aominecchi!" Kise gladly informed. "I was asking if any of you got asked to attend. My bag is filled from all the love letters!"

"Oh, that." The tanned male shrugged. "Do we have to go?"

"McGonagall-sensei did say that champions of the Tournament were required to have the first dance of the ball, therefore, whether we wish to go or not, we must go." Midorima nodded, holding his potted cactus. "Otherwise, we would have the required month off from schooling as nearly every academic facility would offer to their students to take."

"And this year will be no exception, Shintarou."

Turning, the four found their captain with his heterochromic gaze cool and an ever-unbothered Kuroko behind him, each holding a crystal ball. "Eh? What's that for Akashicchi?"

"This is a gift from Trelawney-sensei, after she had read my teacup and Tetsuya's, she had thrown this at us and proclaimed to the class that I was to succeed in any field I chose because I had a ghost that led me to victory — haunting me constantly apparently." The others sweat-dropped at the captain's tale. "And that ghost is Tetsuya."

Laughing lightly, Kise waved, good-naturedly "That's not the first time Kurokocchi has been mistaken for a ghost."

"You misunderstand, Kise-kun. Trelawney-sensei still believes me to be a ghost. The seeing orbs that Akashi-kun and I had received today are regular offerings and prayers for my eternal rest."

A moment of silence was given to allow that statement to sink in, much to the amusement of a certain captain, who turned his attention to the crystal ball intending to add them to his collection.

"…After all of this time, Kuroko? Since we've come here?"

"Yes." Was the phantom's answer, not looking too bothered that his title was taken literally by a professor.

Aomine snickered first, placing a hand over the shadow's sky-blue locks, ruffling the once neatly brushed hair.

"Don't ever change, Tetsu."

"I do not have any intention to, Aomine-kun. Please let go of my head." Kuroko deadpanned. "Akashi-kun has something to announce to all of us, regarding the Yule Ball, this Christmas."

"Thank you, Tetsuya." Akashi took over smoothly, all of them giving their captain the proper attention, recognizing that the time for jokes was over. "We will be attending the Yule Ball as tradition, but it is not our only plans for the night. We will also be paying a visit to the British Ministry."

"Why not right now?" Aomine inquired, his eyes bored but glinted with focus.

Midorima gestured to their classroom, bandaged hand curling to a fist. "As if you need to ask. We are currently Champions of this tournament. All eyes will be on us this entire year. We merely need to hold enough of an alibi for the night. And this will be no leisure visit, who would be present in the Ministry during Christmas?"

Having no argument, the tanned ace addressed something else. "So, we're going to attend the stupid ball. Why are we going to the Ministry for?"

"Unlike us, the Europeans are prehistoric." Kise huffed, holding several of the folders that Momoi had given him. "Although Momoicchi has an accurate enough account of things, there is only so much she can glean from rumors and reports alike. Their paper-and-textbook ways are immune to methods of hacking."

"So, if we wish to access their archives, we must go ourselves." Murasakibara hummed.

"Exactly. That is why we will have one of our Seconds fulfill the rest of our alibi for the night." Akashi smirked, all of the seated in the empty classroom. "Naturally, we will not be the only ones who will not entirely be themselves that night."

It clicked almost instantaneously.

"So, it wasn't just obvious to me?" Kise piped up, the blonde twirled his bejeweled wand absently. "You'd think with their track record with Defence Against the Dark Arts professors, the staff or even the students would be suspicious of the people given the job."

"Eh, so you picked up the smell of Polyjuice Potion too, Kise-chin?" Murasakibara hummed, a bar of chocolate in his hands. "That Death Eater wasn't even trying to conceal it. But I would imagine that he's about to run out of ingredients for it, the ingredients are harder to obtain in around here."

"Is Impersonation Potion that difficult to mix, Murasakibara-kun?"

"Not really if you prepare for it well." The giant shrugged, his eyes bored. "It's a Class III potion, that makes the user disguise themselves as another person for up to twenty-four hours or less, depending on how well you brew it. All you really need is the base potion before the last step and when you need it, add the hair and drink. The ingredients are just a pain to find here, and have delivered in par with required time to brew."

"So, who is the actual Defence Against the Dark Arts professor that we have been attending class with?" Aomine said, addressing the elephant in the room.

"That's the reason, Momoi-san has been absent for a while, Aomine-kun." Kuroko spoke up. "And from the intel she has sent me, the likelihood of Murasakibara-kun's conclusion of the professor being a current active member of the Death Eaters is high."

More like needing confirmation, but fair enough.

"Agreed." Midorima nodded, glasses glowing with an ominous tint. "According to what my subordinates were able to unearth, the first year Potter was in attendance of Hogwarts, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was a wizard possessed by the Dark Lord. The heir to the snake house, the year after that could have resulted in the death of several students and a loose serial killer this previous; it is clear that our English cohort is anything but trouble."

What kind of education system let a serial killer go out and about on campus? Or a mythical beast?

Then again... Teikou didn't really do them much favors. And neither did Mahoutokoro.

"And if I am correct in my deductions…" Midorima trailed off, his eyes glancing to Kuroko before they landed on Akashi, who smiled ever-so-slightly. Of course, the captain had come to the conclusion first. "… then we will be involving ourselves in a mess that we are all too familiar with."

Glances were exchanged with knowing flitted across the five as Kuroko's expression remained flat, unchanged with an underlying tension as Akashi waved a hand, attention acquired with ease.

"In any case, it is none of our concern. The six of us have come this far for one reason and it was more than just to simply appease our parents in wanting our participation in the Wizarding World be greater than our current standard. And I will not have the business of such a lowly creature hinder any of it."

"Oi, Akashi. That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" Aomine none-so-subtly glanced at his shadow before glaring at the captain, who sighed before looking at Kuroko, who had stiffened ever so slightly.

He was keenly aware of the eyes on his person, but refused to acknowledge them.

"Not all of them are…" The tanned male paused, unable to find the word. His shadow was still fixed upon one thing, his wand, fingertips tracing the yew and engravings absently, distracting himself.

"…intentionally harmful?" Kise supplied softly as the ace nodded solemnly. "Aominecchi is right, Akashicchi. Kurokocchi—"

"Kise-chin." Murasakibara fingered his buttery snacks, the salt covering long fingers but not reaching toward his mouth as he spoke in a light whisper. "You know Aka-chin didn't mean it that way."

Sensing an argument that was soon-to-be, the shadow finally sighed.

Replacing his wand, the sixth man of the Miracles spoke, his words soft-spoken but rang with haunting chill. "Regardless of intent, Akashi-kun's statement is not entirely false. Murasakibara-kun is right in that I am well aware that Akashi-kun was not trying to imply that I was trying to harm you all."

Oh, but you did, little one. You did mean to hurt them. Izanami sighed, her words cold and reminding. Like the words of his contract. How else would you have created a Horcrux? For each of them?

Harry groaned into the his textbook during study hall under the keen watch of Snape, Hermione and Ron loyally seated by his sides as he and Ron had a slight problem that required them to something that boys of their age group (… well not all) had difficulty in completing with suave — asking for a date to the Yule Ball.

Naturally, Ron had his eyes on the pink-haired beauty of Mahoutokoro while Harry was equally infatuated with an elegant Cho Chang — only to have their hopes sorely shot when both boys were swiftly rejected. Hermione, in the other hand, was unsympathetic to their plight and was more concerned with her textbook and written assignment.

Great.

Just when he had managed to work the confidence to ask Cho to the ball, he finds out that his fellow teammate and current captain, had gotten to his date before him.

Mood soured and annoyed at the Hufflepuff, Harry watched the slow uprise of Hermione's temper when Ron tactlessly asked her to the ball, since she was also a girl — like he had suddenly had this lovely epiphany.

Needless to say, Hermione was not pleased, storming off before declaring she already had a date and she had given this request a 'yes.'

Therefore, that Christmas night before the Grand Hall, the Boy Who Lived was dressed in proper white and black dress robes beside Parvati Patil while her twin sister was beside a gaudily dressed Ron.

But to fulfill the role of a truly rude date, Harry's green eyes were fixed upon a figure in one gold-adorned Chinese dress, escorted by a handsomely dressed Cedric.

But that was no end to the surprises of that night, as Hermione made her entrance, the girl's brown locks curled into princess ringlets that glistened with gold highlights, her dress a waterfall of purple magenta ruffles as Viktor Krum escorted her for the night, tall and imposingly handsome in his red uniform and fur coat.

Other Durmstrang students escorted dates of their own for the night with equal suave, several in arm with Hogwarts students and a small number from the prodigal school.

With a dramatic entrance of their own that rivaled the Dark Lord, the six champions of Mahoutokoro were made their appearance that Harry shifted in his dress robes with a hint of envy, all beside an equally breathtaking young lady as their company.

Aomine entered first — azul locks brushed back and messily run through with mousse — in an ebony shirt under a navy vest with golden lapels, contrasting easily with his caramel skin, a purple rose over his chest as a lavender blue coat billowed down his thigh. Pure white pants covered the long legs of the ace as they ended at knee-high boots, the final touch being his scowl as he escorted a blushing Angelina Johnson by the arm, her velvet purple ballroom dress complimenting her skin tone. Her eyes ogling at Aomine, who had already loosened his bow tie and the first three buttons of his shirt before she flushed in realization of what she was doing.

But there were no complaints. Parvati whispered to him, her cheeks flushed as Harry felt himself annoyed that his date was paying another man attention when he was her date.

(Oh, irony.)

If anything, the move had made the tanned male more detectable apparently.

Following their ace, was a male that knew he held the attention of every female the moment he entered. (And some men.)

Locks spun from pure gold, Kise smirked boyishly as he held Luna Lovegood's dainty hand in a white gloved grip. Dressed in a white shirt underneath a gold vest with a black tie tucked at his neck, a golden rose pinned at the base, the blonde smiled wider, as he helped his lady down the steps, the epitome of a gentleman as her arm locked around his.

The overcoat was decorated with gold embellishments, collar an ebony as ruby colored the inside, ending at his knees — covered by navy pants and knee-high boots, laced to the very top. With those topaz eyes and morning-after muss of golden locks, the Chaser was an Adonis in human form. Luna was ravishing in her own right, dressed in a golden bell-like dress than flowed with ruffles at the bodice and hems, star-like earrings glittering with her platinum waves.

Midorima came in next, his outfit proper and just as expensive. A sole silver monocle replaced square glasses, as he allowed Hannah Abbott a moment to compose herself, unable to believe that her date had consented to having her company for the night.

Over a forest green shirt, her date wore an ebony tie and a pin-striped white vest, his twin blazer was light green and smooth in her touch as a dark orange rose unfurled at his breast. Dark black pants stretched to the earth as white shoes ended them with a soft touch of gold. Looking down at herself, she bit her glossed lips, feeling inadequate. Dressed in a light orange mini with a bun of small gold curls that was her hair, Hannah positively swooned when Midorima softened his frown ever-so-slightly before assuring her that she was compatible enough with his horoscope to not be worried over.

Mildly confused, she merely nodded.

Murasakibara was next, as he entered with Flora Carrow, her emerald green ballroom dress dragging behind her as brown locks were pinned back with gold pins — holding out a lollipop for her date.

Murasakibara took the sweet with a soft thank you in black-gloved hands — unlike the others, the giant was dressed in a pin-striped lavender shirt, hidden under a gold-bordered overcoat, that revealed only a thin black tie that was loosened enough to hint a well-sculpted body, the collar popped as it billowed at his knees.

Lavender locks were tied back with an ebony ribbon as his long legs were donned in white before finishing in black boots just before the ankle — his rose a deep green as a token of his date. 

Finally, their captain make his appearance.

Dressed in nearly all white, the short young man was imposing and majestic — commanding all to his attention.

Ruby locks brushed back to reveal calculating garnets, Akashi escorted his fellow-redhead, Ginny Weasley with a white-gloved hand. Uniform clipped to his neck with golden lapels down the white overcoat, a stripe of crimson declared the family he belonged to, as a ruby cape covered his person, ending at his ebony boots.

The cape was simple, clasped to his uniform with golden clips as white fur warmed his collar, swaying in the soft wind as they revealed white pants tucked into the black boots neatly. Beside the captain, Ginny was in a grey and black mini, as her hair was done in ringlets, a small blossom adorning the fiery red locks. On the hand that held Ginny's, a small black rose glinted on his index finger.

And with his presence only noticed by the beauty by his side, Kuroko was dressed so simply that many could not see him, despite the expensive clothing — his ensemble entirely black other than his white ruffled shirt under an ebony vest and tie. Red coattails reflected at his knees as brown dress shoes covered his feet, the phantom's hands holding a radiant Momoi beside him, as a pale pink rose blossomed over his chest.

Momoi Satsuki smiled with painted lips as her entrance drew every gaze, her pink hair pinned into a messy bun with dangling gold ornaments. Her dress dragged behind her in a train of silk, embroidered with gold leaf intertwined in the pink. The bodice was patterned with peach blossoms as her back was bare other than silk ribbons that dangled over the pink, contrasting in white. Her sleeves were wide and transparent as they were patterned with roses, effectively making Kuroko Tetsuya a very envied man that evening.

But little to the revelation of the attendants of the Yule Ball, the Kiseki no Sedai and their manager had already left that Christmas night. In very different clothes for the night.

Chapter Text

It did not take long for Midorima to figure out that the golden egg screeched Mermish at them, the voice female and seductively luring her prey to her whims. Unfortunately, Kise was the Gifted of Kichijoten, the Goddess of Beauty, herself — a mere siren was no match.

Kuroko recorded the riddle beside Midorima, before the new year could dawn, the taller of the two scowling at the amount of effort he needed to use — a consequence of the events of Christmas Eve.

Whatever imbecile implied that Gifted had unlimited magical reserves obviously never met a single one of them in their lying lifetime.

But nonetheless, the hint hidden within the egg was revealed to them as the others were swiftly summoned to meet in the shooting guard's training rooms.

Akashi arrived first, his own reading spectacles over his face as he greeted the two of them without a sign of fatigue what-so-ever. A wild-haired Aomine appeared next, dragged by a just bleary-eyed Kise, hands traveling under their crinkled shirts to itch as they sent their respective acknowledgments to everyone.

Murasakibara was the last to arrive, covered in miscellaneous splatter, most likely in middle of cooking or Potion-making. The giant tended to do both when allowed to his own devices, the only rule that they were conducted in two different stations.

It took a whole hour to set the rule, surprisingly.

All other rules in regards to the Miracles usually took an average of thirty minutes to implement, usually with the accompaniment of bodily harm to someone other than themselves or threat to their surroundings. Usually.

The Ministry had stopped sending complaints halfway through their first-year. 

After Kuroko was once again required to announce his presence, he played the recording:

Come to us, Champions, where our voices sing.

For we have taken, what is more than what victory shall bring

An hour is your limit for your search and as you do, mind

Past an hour, the prospect's black,

For it shall cost more if they are not taken back.

"Well, that was as clear as mud." Aomine scowled, yawning into his hand as he dropped his body on one of the benches, ignoring the singed and claw marks. Yeah. None of his business. "The hell is that suppose to mean? I thought this thing was supposed to be a fucking hint."

"Surely your intelligence is not that low, Daiki." Akashi teased with little heat as Aomine glared.

"Hmph, idiot." Midorima huffed with just as much insult, before explaining. "It is simple if you break it down line by line, Aomine. The first two lines are self-explanatory. The language is in Mermish, therefore, our Second Task takes place in merpeople territory. And if my memory serves, the only place within Hogwarts that can sustain merpeople is the Black Lake. And it is likely that all of us will have to enter the water to retrieve something that 'is more than what victory can bring'."

"And we will only have one hour to retrieve this thing, and if we fail, we will lose." Kise hummed, exhaustion clear but eyes sharp. "According to the next two lines that is."

"Which presents our first challenge." Akashi nodded, folding his hands over his lap, seated in another bench with Kuroko and Midorima while Murasakibara shared the other with Kise and Aomine. "Breathing underwater in the midst of this search. We will most likely will be allowed use of our wands this time, but the difficulty here is how to maneuver with our brooms underwater. Though, I would rather have these to be confirmed by Momoi-san before we speculate further."

"Something bothering you, Aka-chin?" Murasakibara hummed, chewing on a wafer.

"I do not care for the little information that we have, Atsushi." Akashi replied, lifting his reading glasses. "The entity which will be stolen from us is obviously something of great importance, but what it is exactly is the question that we need to answer here."

The captain pauses. "However, I do have a guess. Ask yourselves for a moment, what is more important than victory?"

Everyone eyed the phantom for a moment.

"One problem at a time. How will we breathe underwater?" Kise reasoned, yawning. "There are no talismans for water-breathing specifically as far as I know. I would have to look further if there are any arrays that are useful."

"I would not recommend Transfiguration or bringing in any Magical Creatures — the latter most likely prohibited." Midorima said, adding his two cents, his scowl growing. "Half-Transfigurations have side-effects that are more annoying than they are worth. It was not meant to be abused in such a way, unless paired with a curse for the Dark Arts."

"As advantageous as my magic may be, Midorima-kun," Kuroko hummed from his perch. "I do not think our opponents would care for my demonstrations."

"Weaklings." Aomine scoffed, huffing as he agreed. "But I don't like being a sea creature anyway."

Not to mention, been there, done that. No thanks.

"Then we will have to look into an alternative." Kuroko replaced the notepad into his pocket, having been taking notes for Momoi to review. "In any case, the Second Task is not until February, Akashi-kun. And it would not be so different from when we train in sea for Quidditch in the early summer."

"Indeed, Tetsuya." Akashi nods. "Therefore, we shall concern ourselves with these matters later. There will be a meeting after Momoi gathers more data. For now, all of us are to get a few hours of sleep. Atsushi, Shintarou and Tetsuya; finish up your projects. Daiki, Ryota; the futons in the large hall if you will."

Grunts from the latter two followed by sounds of confirmation from the other three satisfied their captain, as they made themselves scarce, all looking forward to the well-deserved shut-eye.

Aomine snored into his futon when he and Kise managed to fumble into the hall, not bothering to do the task manually but rather with a snap of their fingers and the internal mumble of the talisman, the hall furnished itself with their preferred accommodations for all six of them.

By the following hour, all six of them were sound asleep; Murasakibara curled to his side, hugging his body pillow with a snore, effectively crushing Midorima's side who was somehow able to breathe as his feet rested over Aomine's middle, who slept with his body wide-spread.

Kise clung to Kuroko in his sleep, the phantom sleeping on his side, loose fists before his face as Akashi mirrored him, in almost exactly the same position, only his hands were folded neatly.

Heads propped on memory foam, the English day dawned as they slept, ignoring the day as they hid in their safe haven within the world of Morpheus.

Hours later, Kuroko nursed a cup of hot vanilla, lightly dusted with cinnamon as he did not bother to fix his bed hair — sipping it contently at the breakfast bar beside their newly repaired kitchen.

He was the first to awaken, which was a rare event within itself considering his nightmares and low blood pressure but it was an off day. Not that it particularly mattered as classes were canceled for the break and that most of their subordinates were at home.

Humming softly, Kuroko takes to a particularly gruesome find from the Ministry, held in his training rooms. Specifically, from the contents of the Department of Mysteries.

The one Japan was more... isolated and inaccessible. And much more dangerous.

Hall of Prophecy. Death Chamber. Brain Room. Love Chamber. Space Chamber. And the Time Room. Six smaller branches in total.

How... small. Kuroko frowned as he read the files, having only been to the Death Chamber.

... claimed to hear voices through the arch... verified. An Unspeakable has stepped through... never heard from... unknown... believed to be dead. Arch...believed to be a portal between this world and the next... unverified...

So, they were bright enough to conclude that it was a gateway of sorts. Kuroko mused, having been present at the said arch. While saying it did separate this world and the next, to call it a gateway was a bit of a stretch. It was more of a tear.

Roughly speaking, with enough exposure and under the appropriate conditions, a tear between the worlds is possible. But then came the hard part, as it was not the world that Kuroko knew to be Yomi, where his goddess resided, but the British wizards' version of it. And from what he was able to glean, those who were attuned to death, would be able to hear the souls of the other side, whispering.

And to step into the arch so recklessly. Kuroko sniffed. There was no air in any realm beyond theirs, of course, the Unspeakable died. Even he couldn't trespass into Yomi so blatantly.

Well... not without the appropriate measures that is.

Pushing a button, the dark room lit up to display a mortician's room, a blackened body on the stainless steel table. Gloved and goggled with a lab coat, Kuroko spoke into a small recorder.

"Sunday, January, Second Year of High School. Inspection of body of Bertha Jorkins. The body was found within the British Ministry of Magic in the Department of Mysteries, Death Chamber. Appears to have perished from the English Death Curse and been tortured for information."

Kuroko eyes the disfigured face. "Repeatedly. Residue of soul fragmentation are indicative of a Horcrux. Soil collected from clothing and hair are identified by Murasakibara-kun to be from Albania. According to Momoi-san, she has not been reported missing since her vacation. Yet, her remains indicate that she was dead by the beginning of the school year."

Clicking off the recorder, Kuroko proceeds with the autopsy.

Within the brain, he finds that there is significant damage to the limbic system. Memory manipulation.

Hm, he needed to consult Akashi-kun.

"Ah." A small hum takes Kuroko from his bloody performance to meet his captain's warm gaze. "So, you were here, Tetsuya."

Giving him a nod, the phantom gestures to the body. "Good evening, Akashi-kun. I request your assistance. Jorkins-san has a severely damaged hippocampus and overall limbic system."

The captain frowns, putting on his own protective gear. "Memory manipulation, is it?"

"As expected of Akashi-kun."

The taller does not respond, heterochromic eyes locked on the facial features he can make out. Frowning further, he hums, folding the flaps of skin back to form a malformed face.

Free of wrinkles, dim eyes, a large mouth, and a low nose.

"She was not very bright, reckless and a person who did not have much tact." Akashi-kun says, bloodied gloves upturning her remaining hand. He ignores the post-mortem nibbles from scavengers. "Unremarkable. A true pawn. A means to an end, as a stepping stone to a much grander plan."

"So, what would you do with a mentally-defective witch that is so insignificant that she is not reported missing, even after months of her death, Tetsuya?"

Kuroko stares. "The result, you see before you, Akashi-kun. A brain damaged loose end is still a loose end."

"True." Akashi smirks. "But clearly, she knew something to warrant such torture. To even use her soul for a Horcrux and the Torture Curse. So, what would this mere insect of the Ministry know that would warrant such extreme measures?"

"Convenience." Kuroko answers, his expression forbidden. "Her remote location and the magic used on her suggests as much. Horcruxes are a desperate magic. To continue the existence of something that is not natural. After receiving this information, she was no longer valuable. She was already too far gone to remember or be conscious of anything anyway might as well make use of the soul."

"Truly fitting of the Dark Arts, Tetsuya." Akashi chuckles, throwing out his bloodied gloves as well. "Very well. I shall investigate this further. But to more important matters, have you eaten yet?"

As if in answer, Kuroko's stomach let out a growling no.

With a silent order to return to the kitchens, the two of them were soon joined at the breakfast bar.

Akashi began to take out ingredients after tying an apron over his front as Midorima was the first, his hair neatly brushed and silver hair comb in hand. With one glance at the ruffled hair that was Kuroko Tetsuya's head, the tsundere began to fix the phantom's attire, all while denying that he actually cared or anything of the sort. (Sure, Midorima. Sure.)

But the knowing looks between Akashi and Kuroko begged to differ as the former merely chuckled before turning back to his task while Kuroko thanked the tsundere.

Murasakibara was next, undoubtably awakened by the smell of food as he slumped over the bar, nearly knocking over Akashi's coffee, Kuroko's refilled hot vanilla and Midorima's red bean soup — declaring that he was hungry as if it were v important news.

Being the three responsible members of their team, the three made the giant of the team brush his teeth and wash his face before promising that Akashi will make more than enough food for the giant. Pouting but obeying, the purple center made the condition that he was allowed to eat maibo right after. Akashi chuckled but complied as he said that only if the Keeper finished whatever he placed before him.

Murasakibara agreed.

In the midst of Murasakibara's absence, Kise had awakened. Bright and bubbly, the model immediately annoyingly seated himself at breakfast, twirling happily on the stool as he greeted everyone.

But sadly for Kise only Aomine had awakened due to the blonde's enthusiasm that was able to wake him from the dead slumber. With a well-aimed throw of his pillow at his alarm, Aomine tumbled in, grunting his greeting as all of them ignored a whining Kise.

Placing a smoothie for Kise, Pocari for Aomine and a sweet Calpis for Murasakibara, Akashi announced that breakfast was done, just as Murasakibara was thudding his way in, looking more awake and human now that he had washed up.

And with a thank you for the food and to their captain, the six of them dug in for their Japanese-style breakfast with tofu soup. Kuroko frowned at the portion he was given — it was certainly not as much as the others but still… it was too much!

Kuroko pouted.

"No, it's not, Tetsuya."

Kuroko pouted further but did not reply as he began to finish his larger than usual breakfast. Kise, Aomine, and Murasakibara had similar expressions of discontent as they had larger than usual portions of vegetables on their trays of food — where as Midorima and Akashi consumed their normal portions of food.

Like any normal domestic, the six promptly began to discuss miscellaneous topics at the table… err… breakfast bar in the middle of the European night.

"What's that, Kurokocchi?" The blonde pointed to half-open box tossed off to the side.

"The stolen Time-Turners from the Ministry. And some confidential files for Momoi-san." Kuroko supplied.

Like any reasonable overarching government, the Ministry contained a suitable archive of persons of interest. And after the events of last year, the seven of them were on that list. Perhaps not as dangerous as the likes of Dark Wizards, but interesting enough.

Since Kuroko was caught to having created five Horcruxes and each respective friend to have been holding one. As for Momoi, who did they think to be the one to place them in their possession?

But alas, that was a tale for another day as the discussion turned another direction.

"It has been months, what are your assessments of Hogwarts?" Akashi voices, as the Kitsunes clean up.

"In my equivalent," Kise began, setting down his finished smoothie. "Charms is mostly adding magic to an object rather manipulating magic to my bidding. Charms is locked in the emotions, nature and constructs of the object in question while Talismans can summon magic for me to manipulate as long as I am attentive in the runes and in intention."

"So, it's a more restricted version of yours." Aomine concludes as Kise shakes his.

"More like they are fundamentally different. For example, I do not need a wand or to shout a spell for me to summon water. All I need to do is throw up the correct Talisman or bend my magic circle to my bidding, and water will be summoned in the way I imagine it - a mist, a torrent, or whatever I wish. They have one way that works for them while I have many."

Aomine scoffs. "It's not only that. They are physically inept. They think because they have magic, they are invincible. While being young gives them the advantage of speed, some Dark Arts do not need to see or need your location to kill you. Not to mention all of them looked lost the first time I kicked the wand out of their hands."

"And it appears that they do not have very high magical reserves without their wands." Akashi agrees, sipping his coffee. "Consistently needing to use certain defensive or offensive magic with one weapon for practicality makes them predictable."

"Being predictable gets your dumbass killed." Aomine sneers. "Which will be those morons if they don't shape up."

"Their version of Potions is underestimated." Murasakibara adds blandly, inserting his two cents. "It appears that they only use it when it is a last resort or healing."

All of them agree. Because Murasakibara's version of Alchemy was certainly no last resort. This was the same individual that broke bottles of experimental poisons on his summoned harpoons and lined his impenetrable shields with explosive mixtures. Alchemy was no idle subject to be underestimated. Ever.

"I agree, Atsushi." Akashi sighs as if mildly displeased. "My field also appears to be lacking in this institution. To be using tea leaves and crystal orbs at this day and age, when the stars and dates are more reliable. Honestly, even blood scriptures would have been more accurate. Not to mention, they only use it defensively."

"Are you referring to Trelawney-sensei, Akashi?" Midorima prompts as Akashi shakes his head.

"Not at all. She is a Seer." Akashi states as dubious looks grow at the statement but not argued. "Albeit a pawn of one. But a true Seer, nonetheless."

"Transfiguration is practically the same, wherever one goes, only we do not have Animagus. We have Tamers." Midorima shrugs. "And without that, the art is severely... deprived."

Unlike at Hogwarts, the students of Mahoutokoro did not have to register as Animagus. They did not have that. Instead, with an abundance of isolated creatures of their own, they had Tamers who commanded them and studied them as companions or to slay for experience.

Care for Magical Creatures was almost... insulting. Almost.

"Their Magic History is very censored." Akashi begins as quickly as he finishes it. "They are bound to repeat it."

"Leaving us with the sole subject that Hogwarts does not teach." Kise coos deprecatingly. "Poor things. All because of that Moldyshorts."

"It's Voldemort, Kise." Midorima corrected. "Despite the social impact of his actions, it is not right to omit that aspect of education. In any case, it appears that these Western Wizards have forgotten a key aspect of the Dark Arts."

"That there is no such thing as 'Dark Arts', it's just magic that people are scared of or deemed forbidden because of said fear." Aomine huffed, his eyes annoyed. "How the hell do they even have Defence Against the Dark Arts if they are going to be ignorant against the Dark Arts? At least with that Death Eater as a teacher they have some exposure."

"Not to mention they bow in Duels." Midorima sighed, as he recalled the most recent incident on the previous Friday.

It started innocently enough really. Lies.

McGonagall was not often called out of her classroom to attend to something but nonetheless, it happened to be the same period that she had taught Hufflepuff and Gryffindor Fourth Years as well as the Kiseki at the same time. The timing for pandemonium to break out was simply optimal.

So, she assigned them to group up in pairs — Akashi with Kise, Midorima with Kuroko, Aomine with Murasakibara, and finally, Momoi with Hermione Granger — and to practice Dueling one another.

The consecutive second and third mistake. The first was placing all seven of them in the same class.

If the assignment was given in Mahoutokoro, the Seconds and Thirds would have done the following — never assign the Kiseki of all people against one another (They had self-preservation instincts. Thank you.) and if the former was inevitable, provide a wide, wide berth to avoid unpleasant results.

They had their own training rooms for a gods-damned reason. Nevermind rich school privileges.

But unfortunately, they were not in Mahoutokoro and were unaware that the schools did not share the same definition of Dueling. As far as they knew.

("Fuck." The most senior Second cursed, looking at the others who paled. "Initiate Protocol - Damage Control, Level Kiseki. Now." 

So, this was why Akashi-san said he and his cohorts were to be extra vigilant today.

"Senpai... all seven of them are here. Seven."

"I know. I fucking know. Just... Just try." And may the gods be merciful.)

Therefore, when the signal was given, Aomine immediately summoned four bolts of electrifying blue at Murasakibara, who reacted with the summoning of a purple magic circle that made them ricochet, one nearly taking out Ron's head if one of the other Mahoutokoro students had not pulled him out of the way.

At the same time, Midorima pushed up his glasses before summoning his own magic circle at his feet, emerald eyes locking onto the phantom, who appeared briefly, before melting into the shadows once more — dispelling one layer of the green circle as he did — making Midorima harden his glare.

And in the midst of that conflict of hide-and-seek, Kise was doing his captain no favors neither, as he danced between copy after copy of himself — near-exact replicas to attack his captain, both magically and physically, as Akashi dodged and sent barrages of red darts toward the copies, making them explode with a loud pop.

For a moment, the Hogwarts' students were too shocked by the display to move as they soon realized the position they were in — the crossfire.

("Mate. What the actual bloody hell." Ron stares at the burning remains of Seamus' desk before turning to the purple badged girl. "What the hell are you guys doing?!"

She stares back, unflinching as she notes the same incredulous looks from the Hogwarts students. Hm. "Dueling?"

"This is not Dueling." Hermione hisses, barely twisting away from Momoi's assault of razor thin pink petals, ducking behind a series of desks.

Momoi points her wand with wicked mirth, leering over them. "It is in Mahoutokoro.")

Murasakibara took no heed to where Aomine's powerful stuns and crackling bolts bounced off into as he was preoccupied in returning several of his own, lazily elongating edges of his magic circle. The points grew into harpooned spears of purple magic, as they followed the ace relentlessly.

With a smirk, Aomine took no precautions neither before dodging them by the breadth of mere inches, catapulting off any surface with his own circle under his feet, as they stuck to the classroom walls, taking off chunks or corroding into the granite.

Akashi dispelled several himself, as he canceled the purple with his own ruby magic — allowing it to fester in his grasp before maximizing it towards a wave of Kise copies — destroying all but the summoner with a flick of his wrist. The blonde smirked, as the captain mirrored it with one of his own, as if to say that the opening act was over.

Akashi moved first, summoning two ruby circles of magic in his hand, with the diameter of plates — threw them at Kise's wrists before the blonde could blink — sealing his magic. But the blonde was by no means, shutdown — instead, he threw up a few of his talismans at the captain, forcing the latter to cut them aside as dense vines grew exponentially, buffering the captain's attacks.

Kuroko observed this from the ceiling, afloat beside the candled chandelier as he estimated about six more seconds until he was to relocate — Midorima's timed traps with tracers were a pain — as he sent three exploding potions (Murasakibara-kun owed him a favor.) over Midorima's head before activating one of his pre-charged talismans.

In the midst of the ruckus, McGonagall had arrived.

Taking in the sight of her students cowering on the classroom floor ducked under desks behind a wall of Mahoutokoro students that seemed to be holding up a barrier as five of their most powerful students technically, six attacked one another. Momoi had Hermione pinned with her legs and two daggers of pink magic at her neck at the edge of the barrier with a cold smirk on her lips.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

All of the students of Mahoutokoro paused and stared, each one mildly confused and every non-Kiseki relieved. 

"McGonagall-sensei, we are only doing as you have instructed. Dueling." Kuroko answers, as the barrier is taken down, and he reappears with a gentle landing.

"That... is not Dueling, Mr. Kuroko." McGonagall frowns. "Where you all not taught proper Dueling etiquette?"

"Of course we were." Kise huffs, offended but obliging. "After an agreement of either lethal, non-lethal, or with weapon limitations, the Duel begins. All magic and Magical Objects are valid, unless stated. And until the opponent is defeated or dead, the Duel continues. The Duel can only be void if interrupted, they can only be one-to-one."

"I see." McGonagall replies, her expression stern. "However, here in Hogwarts and Europe, we bow to our opponents with our wands in sight to both duelists before conducting spells — and when either wizard is disarmed, unconscious, or unable to continue; the winner is declared. That is proper Western Wizard Dueling."

The Eastern wizards stared at them with looks of incredulity.

"Are you serious?" Aomine asks flatly before glancing at Harry. "Oi. Supposed-to-be-dead kid. Is that true?"

Harry sweat-dropped at the name. "Yes."

Aomine facepalmed. "No wonder you dumbasses — "Language!" — are so shit in my class. They teach you to fucking bow to your enemies."

Harry blinked at the sight of the repaired classroom, free of scorched marks, cracked walls and broken items — When did that happen? — Ron, in the other hand, overheard something between the non-Kiseki students on something like 'Damage Control - Level Kiseki - Complete!'.

But they were not done, as Midorima sighed. "If that is your regulations here for Dueling, then there is no wonder that that Voldemort character you all are so scared of, rose here."

Harry's eyebrows lifted to his hairline.

Not everyone had the gall to say the Dark Lord's name so openly as everyone flinched.

The Mahoutokoro students noted this with a hint of interest.

"What do you mean, no wonder?" Harry blurted.

"What do you mean, 'what do I mean?'" Aomine challenged back, folding his hands behind his head as he spoke.

"Did you not see the way you lot basically ducked for cover like a bunch of ostriches when we started Dueling? Or the fact that you bow before you Duel? You think Voldemort or anyone who is out to kill you is going to wait for you to politely bow and raise your wand before he kills you? You might as well just go up to him and say 'Please aim here,' if that's the way you think you're going to go against him."

"Daiki." Akashi cut in, his voice commanding before turned back to a fuming Harry and a stiff McGonagall.

"I apologize for Daiki's crass wording. However, he does pinpoint a crucial flaw with your system of education, McGonagall-sensei. One of your students is the target of a killer and yet, you teach him to bow before his enemies, declare the spell he will use to attack, and expect him to live. You must have high expectations, indeed."

"I am sure Hogwarts is trying their best for Potter-kun, Akashi-kun." Kuroko words in. 

"I suppose you are right, Tetsuya. Trying being the operative word in question." Akashi relinquishes whimsically.

Aomine internally winces in behalf of their audience.

But McGonagall did not take the insult sitting down as she glared at the students from Mahoutokoro. "In any case, despite your opinion upon our education system, the fact that you have placed my students in danger due to your actions is inexcusable."

"And if I were to inform you that your students were in no risk in the first place?" Akashi retorted calmly, his hands unfurled to the ceiling as if in fair play to both parties.

Harry seriously doubted that.

"What in blazes are you talking about?!" Harry yelled, his green eyes glaring. "Your Duels nearly took Ron's head off and could have impaled several of us! You could have killed us all!"

"Nonsense." Murasakibara hums, eating a pound cake. "Our Duels were all non-lethal and were to only disarm."

The Hogwarts' students stared at them. That was non-lethal? In what universe was that non-lethal?!

"If your classmates hadn't—!" Before he was interrupted again.

"And who do you think told them to assure that you all are unharmed?" Midorima pushed his glasses to his face, emeralds glowing with stern iciness. "You should be thanking our Seconds and Thirds for protecting you all — otherwise none of you would be talking."

McGonagall's glare sharpened.

So, they knew. They knew our Dueling styles were different. Why else would they warn their subordinates? But why?

"But in any case," Akashi smiled as he turned back to her. "It was a pleasant experience to be your class once again, McGonagall-sensei. If you will excuse us, it is time for lunch."

Midorima grimaced at the memory as he looked at Akashi, who smiled with a hint of knowing.

"You had to make all of that ruckus just to see their reactions, Akashi. How bothersome, when you are well aware just how they will react to us." Midorima said moodily as the two of them were seated in the captain's office, a shoji board between them.

Akashi smirked ever-so-slightly as he moved another one of his pawns, countering Midorima's to-be assault.

"You know that our minor infraction with McGonagall was more than just a observation of the reactions of our Western cohorts, Shintarou." Akashi reprimanded lightly. "The news of our behavior will place our opponents in a more pressured situation. They will feel unprepared in comparison and that gives us enough of an advantage for now."

"And to allow Kuroko enough time to observe that walking Horcrux?" Midorima retorted, moving his knight.

With a knight to check the king, the emperor smiled with a fickle glint of malice.

"Are you not curious, Shintarou? What faces will they make, I wonder, when they realize that they have been protecting a piece of that Dark Lord they fear, oh so much?"

Harry was about to question why Ludo Bagman was so keen in assisting him the tournament in the Three Broomsticks, when a familiar cascade of colors entered his vision, just outside the window — passing-by — as Hermione and Ron sat up straighter, catching sight of the current leaders of the tournament as an annoyed look graced Ron's face.

Harry was not particularly fond of the Kiseki due to the events in the classroom and the insult of Hogwarts in the First Task. Even if he held a respect for their prowess.

However, unlike him (plus Ron) and the opinion of the younger years, most of Hogwarts (Sixth Years and above) with the majority of Durmstrang found that as much as the words of the Mahoutokoro were demeaning, they were also true.

Harry's team, surprisingly enough, agreed with this as the events of the classroom spread like wildfire — seated in the stands with all resting for a break.

"Have you ever considered what would you do if you were disarmed? Or unable to reach your wand?" Hermione voiced, her hands playing with a frayed end of her book, labeled Triwizard Tragedies.

"'Mione, we always have our wands with us… when will we—?"

"I'm talking about when we don't have our wands, Ronald." The girl sighed, her frustration evident as she turned to her other best friend. "Harry, what did you do? When you didn't have your wand?"

Harry squirmed at the eyes on his person. "Well, I-I… in our second year, when I was with the Lockhart, I made him talk. Distracted him to make a mistake."

"So, you basically lucked yourself out." Flint deadpanned as Cedric nodded.

Harry grew red, blushing.

"Then what was I supposed to do?!" He grumbled. "He had Ron's wand — It was broken. That's not the point, Ron. — and moved before I could pull out mine. It was a good thing that Ron's wand backfired on him."

"Then, what does not having your wand have to do with what happened in McGonagall's?" Johnson frowned, not understanding as Wood listened in. "I thought those Miracles' Dueling disrupted the class and ended up getting scot-free, even though they ruined the classroom. That's it."

"No, there's more than just that." Harry frowned as he, Ron and Hermione explained. After they had finished, the Sixth Years and sole Seventh Year looked bit annoyed but not as enraged as the Fourth Years had anticipated or hoped.

Angelina noticed the trio's confusion first as she quirked an eyebrow, questioning.

"What?"

"No. It's just your reaction." Ron mumbled, clearly disappointed that they were so calm. "Aren't you guys mad? That these guys who have only visited our school for only a few months and say all these things?"

"Not necessarily." Davies shrugged, as he pointed out. "Even though, yes, we are a bit annoyed that they had insulted Hogwarts and by default, us. They weren't necessarily wrong."

"W-What?" Ron blinked.

"We are the only school other than Ilvermony and Beauxbatons to not teach the Dark Arts — and in this case, it can be seen as a bad thing as much as a good thing. Both Durmstrang and Mahoutokoro teach it as well as the other schools around the world under the reasoning that if they forbid it, they are only making themselves ignorant of magic that they could wield."

Cedric informed them as he sighed with a dark look on his face.

"But it's probably just because you lot are still in your Fourth Year that you have yet to question these things. But have you noticed that most of the spells you learn are not particularly useful unless it calls for a certain situation?"

Hermione nods vigorously while Harry and Ron shrug.

Davis takes over, his purple eyes cold. "Well, if you look at most of the creators of spells, that's exactly why. It's the experience that they personally had and created the spell for their advantage. And that is why our magic is almost behind in comparison. Unlike us, Mahoutokoro has a defined system from ancient times, founded on the words of one creator rather than multiple ones — making it easier to understand and therefore, manipulate. That's why we have a variety of spells, more situational than practical."

"Point being anyway, as you have seen without doubt, Potter, especially from the First Task," Montague cuts in as he brings the point back, his face annoyed. "We are at a disadvantage here. We are exposed to less magic than our opponents and also have been given shitty instruction from our predecessors. Which can result in something that can be joined in your Mudblood friend's book there. Our competitors know it all too well. We know it. And now, thanks to them, so do you and friends."

Midorima looked through the wares of Dogweed and Deathcap, a quaint Herbology shop in Hogsmeade, to which the seven of them had embarked for in the morning, a week since classes had resumed in Hogwarts once more — he was searching for the appropriately aged nettle after Murasakibara had refused for him to have any access to his storage.

So, the tsundere set to find his to-be lucky item himself. And he was most definitely not holding a picture of the said nettle from Murasakibara or anything. The tallest merely owed him a favor, that's all. 

Murasakibara, in the other hand, disappeared the moment Kise had pointed out which shoppe was Honeydukes and all them collectively doubted that the tallest of them would move from the sweets shop for the remainder of the trip.

Kuroko took to Tomes and Scrolls, a bookshop that sold the eldest of texts or so it claimed while Kise — after losing sight of Kuroko — skipped towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, declaring that his robes were sure to be finished by now.

All twenty-three of them.

Needless to say when he invited them all to help see which was the best outfit, he was completely ignored and burst into tears. Not like anyone noticed, of course.

Aomine took to Spintwitches Sporting Needs, saying he would might as well look to the merchandise that the Westerners had to offer — deciding for himself if they were up to par with the brands that they were so used to in Japan.

Akashi, in the other hand, said that he was to be in the nearby Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, saying that he had found it troublesome to constantly sharpen and clean his quills due to annoyances — Aomine had a genuine concern suspicion that the real reason was because blood was too thick for the conventional quill (May the fallen rest in peace.) — but none had the gall to voice anything.

However, what they should noticed was Momoi.

Momoi entered The Magic Neep, a quaint grocery store, with a single mission.

To make the best homemade chocolate valentines for all six of her boys. With an internal encouragement to her goal, she made her way to the register — asking for the appropriate ingredients.

Like horseradish.

In that moment, all six of the boys felt a chill creep over their spines.

Chapter Text

Despite his origins, Kuroko hated winter. 

Icy winds bit at his face as Kuroko stumbled in the snow-covered field, his vision obscured in the blizzard as his legs burned underneath him, the built-up lactic acid threatening to assure his collapse any minute. But his legs may as well been made of jelly, as he felt none of it — nothing physical compared to the hatred that glowed at his chest.

The phantom grasped his chest with clawing hands, trying to stop the pain as he finally fell. His legs no longer obeyed him.

Someone was screaming, the cry raw and loud in the oblivion that he was trapped in.

It took him a minute to realize that it was himself.

No one would hear him. He thought as his throat burned, tears leaking pathetically down his face. No one heard him. No one could. He was in a dream, trapped. Even though he screamed as loud as his vocal cords could bear. Still. No one came. No one could even if they wanted to.

Kuroko hummed mentally, his mind dull and throat pulsing from the rush of blood. The snow was his only comfort that night, the soft ice enveloping and comforting in numbing his aflame skin. Lifting his fingers weakly, the self-proclaimed shadow brushed the cold flakes with a small huff. His breaths were slowing.

A shadow befell over his person.

Kuroko made no move to greet them.

He knows who it is, after all. Her bony hand cradles his face gently before it grips his jaw, harsh and unyielding as his hazy eyes meets her soulless ones. Because she has no mortal belonging. Because she is a goddess. His goddess.

Little one. Why are you so stubborn to hurt yourself so?

The world stops by her command; the snow, the burning of his lungs, the slowing breaths past his lips, and his dying carcass half buried in the merciless ground. And it all stops as she frowns at him.

You know the consequences of your contract, Kuroko Tetsuya. I have been lenient to allow you without consequence for your many attempts already, child. Do not push my mercy.

Kuroko swallowed.

She sighs, her breath cool against his skin. Very well.

The world spins as Kuroko finds himself curled over his side, eyes hazy but full registration of what is around him. Pain grips his chest once more, as the scalding claw squeezes his organs with the intent to rupture but never enough to kill him. He represses the urge to cry, for it doesn't help.

Pitiful, his goddess may be, but merciful was not.

Cornflower eyes widen as Akashi-kun appears before him, eyes heterochromic. An illusion.

Tetsuya, there is nothing more important than victory. Nothing. Victory is all that matters. 

The other Akashi-kun says to him, heterochromic eyes cold yet caring enough to express his disapproval as Kuroko cradles his friend's left eye, the only change. Yet it is enough for anyone to know that the original Akashi-kun was now dormant. Sealed within the octagonal mirror of the goddess of the sun herself, the Empress of the Heavens, Amaterasu.

She creates this other Akashi-kun. Cold and unfeeling — a puppet. This other who is Akashi-kun yet not.

Kuroko refuses.

He tears out a piece of his soul.

With a blink, his captain was gone.

And in his place, Aomine shakes in the rain.

The only one that can beat me is me, Tetsu. I don't know how to catch your passes, anymore…

The words are so loud that Kuroko hopes that they destroy his eardrums. They don't.

As he watches Aomine walked away, his light no longer needing his shadow to burn brightly. No longer needing him to counter Dark Magic, because he is too fast and too powerful even for some of the most powerful curses.

A beast that couldn't even feel the sting of the Torture Curse, the thrill of dodging the Death Curse — what use does he have against something that can't touch him?

Arrogance is his undoing. Kuroko pleads with him to deaf ears. Ears that no longer registered such things.

His light is too bright.

Kuroko casts the Darkest magic he knows.

Aomine-kun is gone. And Kise smiles at him instead, lips curved at the ends, coy.

I don't get it. Winning is and has always been everything. Right, Kurokocchi? 

Kise-kun smiles with such falseness that Kuroko almost hates himself for being the blonde's mentor, for the failure of the student was the teacher's folly  — he too believed that winning was everything then.

He couldn't just allow him to be destroyed by his false teachings. Teachings that he couldn't take back.

Machinations and manipulations that Kise-kun took from his Dark Arts and applied to his own branch and life. Misleading others to underestimate, faking his emotions through masks, and using others as a means to an end — he truly taught his student well.

So well, he cannot see others for who were anymore. Only the lies.

And Kuroko was not going to let Kise-kun destroy himself like his beautiful goddess.

He destroys his student with his own hands, along with a piece of himself.

Midorima comes next. His form as tall as it always was as he speaks to him, matter-of-fact and unyielding. Fully believing in his beliefs — his will as hardened as his gaze.

Kuroko, do not be foolish. Why you insist upon such foolishness, I do not understand, but out of the betterment for myself only, I will inform you that what you are trying is futile. Our victory is predisposed. 

Kuroko huffs, sweat beading his temple as he stares at his memories.

Lucky items, a curse to the hardworking Midorima who should be able to hold his fate in his own hands. The same hands that tamed the most dangerous of beasts and creatures with a simple command, yet must bend to the whims of the gods because he is afraid.

And ironically, he is afraid for his friends.

So, he holds the items with a desperate hope.

Isn't it is only natural then, that the phantom bestows him something, as well?

He gives it to him, to hold and care for, willingly.

Then came the one that was the tallest of them all. Murasakibara looms ways from him, eyes locked on the small phantom.

I hate basketball, Kuro-chin. We win anyway, as long as we don't lose, what's the problem? 

Everything. Kuroko wants to shout as he watches Murasakibara discourage one player after the other. The problem was everything.

He can only stare with dead eyes and listen as their words echo in his ears, never leaving.

But that was no reason for Kuroko to let him devolve.

Especially now, after his magic is tied to his food intake. If Murasakibara stops eating, he is powerless.

It wasn't his fault. Kuroko screams. It's not any of their faults. They were human.

No one hears.

He can't let Murasakibara be powerless. Not when all he has left is that.

Kuroko stares at his mangled soul. Then into the sunset eye of his goddess, who knows his decision is made.

He feeds it to the magic without hesitation.

As his punishment continues, Kuroko is unyielding. If he were a normal wizard, he would have died long ago. If he were a normal wizard, he would have defended himself from the Dark Arts his goddess wields to punish him. If he were a normal wizard, he would have been able to use normal magic.

If he hadn't violated his contract, he would have.

But that would have meant his friends would have been unprotected. And that was not acceptable.

But if he does not take them back, he may never be truly whole ever again. Sentenced to be in winter forever.

So be it.

Aomine stares, unmoving. His school robes are replaced with a more form-fitted hakama, dark blue as black arm guards drum on his bicep impatiently as his twin blades dangle by his side, stirring with their master's unrest.

Tetsu had gone into the Yomi for the evening. And his god being the Protector of the Imperial House, he could not follow after the phantom. No one could, except maybe, Satsuki.

And that was only because Omoikane was the god of torture along with wisdom.

You are too hard on yourself. A voice admonished him, his voice warm.

Aomine ignored him. His god was right. That did not mean that he had to acknowledge it.

Shut up, you old man. He scowled. You know better than to appear whenever you want. Leave. Or do I have to shit on that lecture about a century-old samurai code bull that you spout all the time?

Bushido, boy. And if you listened, your contract wouldn't have been violated. The voice growled.

And you knew I was only fucking fourteen. What fourteen-year-old didn't have a fucking ego? Aomine snaps back as he feels the god concede, running a hand through his hair. 

It was an argument that was years old, yet the repercussions still present.

Unlike most Eastern wizards — he was a blessed child of his patron, all Eastern wizards were — but he was different in that he could hear and be heard by his.

Aomine was ignorant of this until he was in middle school, sure that he was going crazy when he heard a stern yet warmly guiding voice when he was in the heat of Dueling, gifting him with instincts that always correct. He created his contract with Hachiman when he was fourteen when he entered Mahoutokoro, all of them did — except Tetsu.

They were marveled and held in awe of their power and potential. But Aomine saw the looks that they gave before the fake praise passed their teeth.

Envy. Wide-eyed horror. And most importantly, fear.

So much power in the hands of a generation of children.

No government would tolerate it — the Ministry of Magic in Japan most certainly didn't.

So, under the orders of Akashi, they had managed to lie as dead as rats — not wanting anything to do with the realm of magic — they appeared to have no interest in such a troublesome life of magic and it was no act for Aomine's part.

Aomine only wanted to play basketball.

They didn't want power, magic, a prodigal status. They were normal once.

They already had it all even if they were simple mortals. All of it. Through basketball.

But that was not their reality.

Because the gods, for such timeless beings, could never understand why their chosen fell. Having broken their contracts, one-by-one.

Why the passionate Aomine grew arrogant. Why the ambitious Midorima knelt before his obsession. Why the childish Murasakibara could never admit his love. Why Kise can only see lies. Why Akashi always lost himself. And why Tetsu was self-sacrificing enough to save them all.

They can't understand, for all their godly power, the six of them were only human.

Harry sat with his team in the library, his mind having hit a very solid wall.

How would one breathe underwater for one whole hour?

That was an entire sixty minutes — and with full honesty unless he could spontaneously become a sea creature that had posable thumbs to hold his wand, he was utterly doomed to fail this Task with his team.

The book laid on it's back unhelpfully, insides outspread as he scanned it half-heartedly.

An hour later, he was trying to pull Wood away trying to strangle Flint with Johnson, while Montague did the same with Diggory behind the snarling Slytherin captain. Davis was on the floor having been caught in the slugfest — Harry would worry about him later — the last thing that they needed was to be caught and earn the ire of a professor.

And then Neville walked in.

They all froze.

Harry had his body wrapped over Wood's, bear-hug style while Angelina held the captain at the hips, fingers interlocked. Flint was in a similar state, only Montague had the Slytherin's arms locked behind him and Diggory mirroring Angelina at his waist — he had started kicking which narrowly missed Davis, who was still on the floor, face first.

He wasn't moving... maybe someone should take him to the Hospital Wing... later...

With the wise glint of McGonagall in his eyes, Neville stuttered his idea to Harry before bolting out so quickly that Harry was only able to understand one thing.

Gillyweed.

The meeting room filled up slowly, Momoi being the first to arrive as she set up the projector and organized her files neatly, pastel colored files ready to be analyzed by Akashi. As she plugged in the projector and ran through some programs, Murasakibara made his arrival, greeting her with a low hum and an armful of snacks.

"Sat-chin~ Good evening~ Have you finished your tasks already?"

"Mhm!" She nodded happily. "Good evening, Muk-kun!"

"Will I be able to eat my snacks in middle of this one, Sat-chin? Muro-chin sent me some Ramune candies this time. I wanted to try them~"

Momoi hummed for a minute before nodding. "I don't have a problem with it. But you should ask Akashi-kun."

Murasakibara made a displeased whine but said nothing.

"Ne, Mukkun." Momoi broke the lapse of silence after a while. "Is… Tetsu-kun okay?"

The giant was silent for a moment, the cookie to his face paused before he replied. "…Kuro-chin is the same as always after being summoned. Everyone else is the same whenever we have unexpected visits. Even Aka-chin."

"That's true." She shifted uncomfortably, but luckily before another silence could elapse, Akashi entered with Midorima, the both of them noting the somewhat solemn atmosphere but not commenting as Midorima took his seat, Akashi following in suit. "Ah! Midorin, Akashi-kun! Good evening!"

"I see that you've returned, Momoi." Midorima sniffed, holding a handheld speaker, while Akashi welcomed her back with a warm smile.

"Welcome back, Momoi. Have you finished the files that I had requested last night?"

"Hai, Akashi-kun." The manager nodded, gesturing to a bag of files that were off to the side. "Would you like them now?"

"No." The redhead shook his head. "They can wait until after the meeting."

"I understand." She nodded, organizing a few more files before a loud screech that suspiciously sounded like Kise broke the merciful silence, making all of them turn to the doors as loud stomps thudded their way towards them.

After a few crashes and the sound of expensive items breaking, Aomine appeared with a loud bang of the door, sliding back with so much force that it bounced back to hit the ace in the face with a sounding smack. Cursing colorfully, Aomine ignored his reddening forehead, closing the door as a speeding Kise, who did not stop in time and ran straight into the paper doors. Crashing through them before brained himself on Murasakibara's desk, who moved his snacks out of the way just in time.

Snacks crisis averted.

Leaving the blonde to color the floor red, Aomine sighed before looking to the cargo in his hands. "That was close, Tetsu."

"You nearly killed Kise-kun, Aomine-kun."

Everyone but the comatose blonde blinked at the child's voice.

Comfortably in Aomine's hands was a kindergarten-deaged Kuroko, in a traditional elementary school uniform — a long sleeved shirt that matched his hair, a white collar and black shorts, finished with yellow shoes and knee-high socks.

Despite his face being the same dead-pan as it was at the age of seventeen, his face now had considerable baby-fat on pale cheeks now, making them pinchable and wide blue eyes that glowed with innocence.

In other words, he was cute — cinnamon roll protection at-all-costs level.

Midorima's glasses nearly crack at the sheer adorableness.

Therefore, needless to say, several things happened at once.

Momoi faints from over-cuteness of her Tetsu-kun while the rest of the Kiseki, bar Kise who was still resurrecting himself (it usually took a few paragraphs or so), gathered around the de-aged Kuroko, who was calmly drank his milkshake in a sippy cup as if he had to yet notice his age regression.

"Kuro-chin is so small now~" Murasakibara stated the obvious.

"I am physically five-years-old, Murasakibara-kun. I am supposed to be small." Kuroko deadpanned with a hint of impatience. Kuroko was always a tad sensitive when it came to his height. Not that Akashi was an exception to it neither.

Both topics were not prodded for obvious reasons. The guilty no longer existed.

"K-Kuroko?" Midorima tried as Tetsuya turned to the tsundere while Aomine snorted in answer.

"Who else would it be?"

Kuroko slapped the ace with a backhand that was less effective than usual, but addressed the sharp-shooter.

"Good evening, Midorima-kun. I hope that I am not late to our meeting. There have been a number of interesting events for the past hour, I'm afraid. I apologize for our tardiness."

Akashi stifled a laugh internally at Kuroko's words. It appeared that his sixth man's mental state was intact despite his appearance.

How amusing.

"On the contrary, you are on time, Tetsuya. Though I would suppose that is due to Daiki's efforts, rather than your own this time. But could you grace us with an explanation as to your sudden regression of age?"

Kuroko turned to his captain with a nod, his cornflower hair soft as it framed his face adorably, removing his pink lips from the cup with a small smack. 

Gods. It was almost lethal.

"This is because of Aomine-kun's misplaced prank, Akashi-kun. An hour ago, I was going to pick up Aomine-kun and Kise-kun to go to the meeting to make sure they attended on time, when I drank a milkshake that Kise-kun had gifted me. Only for this to happen. Aomine-kun had mistakenly drugged my milkshake with one of Murasakibara-kun's Aging Potions, thinking that Kise-kun was going to drink it."

"So, it's Ahomine's fault." Midorima sighed, eyes flat at the cause of all the trouble.

"It's not that surprising, Mido-chin. It's always Mine-chin."

"OI! I was planning to prank Kise, not Tetsu!"

"How mean, Aominecchi!" See. Give or take a few paragraphs.

"Die, Kise."

Ignoring the fight as Kise retorted with a whine, Akashi lifted Kuroko in his arms, the phantom wrapping his arms over his captain's neck after a nod of consent, finished with his milkshake. "So, then, Tetsuya? How did you get to be in Daiki's arms and chased by Ryota?"

Kuroko's face did not change as he continued, looking absolutely adorable as his childish voice somehow maintained a monotone.

"Kise-kun insisted in protecting my innocence before picking me up and running away, kidnapping me. — It was consensual, Kurokocchi! YOU RAN OFF WITH HIM THE MOMENT HE CHANGED! — Aomine-kun then punched Kise-kun before running away with me, which led Kise-kun to chase us here."

"I see." Akashi nodded, his face contemplative before he turned to a still arguing Kise and Aomine with a raise of an eyebrow. With the authority of being before their monarch, the two shut up immediately.

"Daiki, since all of this is your fault, your training menu will be tripled and you will be teaching an extra hour for tutoring for the following week. Kise, for your behavior and kidnapping of Tetsuya, your menu will be doubled and you will not be allowed within a two meter radius of Tetsuya for the following three days — one day for each offense: kidnapping, bribery and lying to me."

Akashi turned to Murasakibara and Midorima before glancing at the serene Momoi on the floor, Kuroko still in his arms. "Shintarou, tend to Momoi. Atsushi, if you could return Tetsuya to his correct age. As adorable as Tetsuya is at such an age, I would like him to be back to normal if you would."

Kuroko pouted. "I am not adorable, Akashi-kun."

Everyone was momentarily blinded by the cinnamon roll, only the threat of Aomine's to-be tackle stopping Kise from lunging. Midorima was hiding a blush as Akashi smirked at the crack in his lens. Oblivious to the dilemma, Kuroko lifted his arms at Murasakibara, intents obvious.

"Hai, Aka-chin~" Murasakibara nodded as he lifted Kuroko, exiting to his workshop while Midorima acknowledged his orders (with a blush and a cough to detour to his room, most definitely to get his spare glasses — Shut up, Aomine. He is not blushing.), tending to their heart-struck manager.

As the others left attend to their orders, Akashi turned to his remaining subjects, Kise and Aomine, who had taken to a great interest to the floor. Flicking out his wand, the emperor regarded his disobedient subordinates with a thin frown. "Report, Daiki."

Aomine frowned, running a hand through his hair as Kise shot him a displeased hum.

"From what Hachiman-sama said, Tetsu's contract is still in effect. He insisted he was fine but I made him get looked over by Midorima just to make sure. Other than his usual low blood pressure symptoms, he's fine."

"In other words, as fine as any of us would be after going to Yomi." Kise snarled before controlling his temper. It was particularly hard for the blonde, since his goddess was at odds with Kuroko's. "I just really hate them sometimes, Aominecchi. It's not my fault that the bitch stole something that was not hers."

"You know why, Ryota." Akashi sighed lightly, in the tone of someone who had to explain this notion multiple times. "The politics of the Heavens and beyond are not under our control... yet."

"You have a plan." Aomine did not even bother to phrase it as question. He didn't have to.

"Indeed, Daiki." Akashi smirked as he commandeered himself to the front, hand hovering over the golden egg as Kise and Aomine exchanged glances. Akashi was never one to speak upon whims, every move was calculated and for a reason, even in situations that appeared to be coincidental.

Clasping the star-clip, instead of the screeching of banshee Mermish that the two had expected, a melodious series of voices sang with a seductive coo like sirens, the riddle echoing in the room. Before Aomine and Kise could voice on what the hell their captain was on about, Akashi silenced them with a click of the golden egg, sealing it and the song.

"Before you ask, I will explain. The Second Task is simple — an object precious to us will be taken and by the morning of the Second Task will be in the Black Lake as we have concluded in our last meeting. We will be separated into two groups, one to defend our points above the lake and the other to search for this object within the hour because without this object, we cannot win."

Kise asked the obvious question. "What is this precious object, Akashicchi?"

Akashi rose an elegant brow but his frown did not leave. Aomine felt ice grow in the pit of his spine.

Maybe he was mistaken. He had to be. He was a basketball idiot. The hell did he know?

But Akashi was founded in reality. "Not a what but a who. Who can we not win without, Ryota, even scoring a large number of points? Who ends all Quidditch games?"

Aomine tensed as Kise's eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights.

"Kurokocchi."

Akashi nodded, ignoring the growing instability in his two more volatile pieces.

"Tetsuya will be underwater, most likely unharmed as I would imagine to harm a student in the Western Realm is a bit harder to keep under wraps than in the East. The two of you will be tasked with finding Tetsuya — Daiki, you will lead the search while Ryota will be your support. I have already sent Shintarou and Momoi on investigating what creatures you may encounter there."

"And you're just going to let them take Tetsu? Just like that?" Aomine questions, his words loaded.

Akashi meets his words with a collected gaze. "Of course not. I am sending you and Ryota after him, aren't I?"

A small silence but Aomine's nod of deference is enough to break the tension.

"Akashicchi, I have found some Talismans that can be of use." Kise cut in, distracting from the fact that their shadow was going to be taken again, pulling out several.

The first was a simple Air Summon while the others were a Water Summon, Water Manipulation and an Air Manipulation. As per the mythos, Talismans when created with optimal materials and appropriate users, elements of varying degrees of success were possible — water, wood, fire, earth and metal — along with darkness and light. Manipulation is the supplemental Talisman, evolved from the pre-existing Mobilization, which allowed for only movement.

Manipulation allowed more variety for the user, in allowing the element to bend to the user's will, based on magical reserves. The more complicated the maneuver, the more magic it used.

Nodding for the blonde to continue, Kise held up the Water Summon and Air Summon first. "At first, I thought that a single Air Manipulation would be sufficient for me to experiment for us to use underwater. But there's a fundamental problem with it. The air in the water, the oxygen that we would need to manipulate is not technically air but dissolved air in water."

The blonde holds up the Water Manipulation Talisman. "Hence this. Using the two in tandem, we can breathe underwater, converting the dissolved oxygen into atmospherical oxygen for our lungs to breathe."

"But?" Aomine eyes the other two ofudas.

"There is a limit supply of dissolved oxygen in the water. Black Lake does not connect to the oceans like the Sea of Japan and it is infested with algae blooms — there is no sunlight and therefore, too little oxygen for us to just use these two Talismans."

"So, you suggest for us to use the Water Summon and Air Summon but in the reverse mechanisms of the Water Manipulation and the Air Manipulation." Akashi concludes as Kise smirks.

"With a bonus, Akashicchi."

"Oh?"

"The oxygen-less water that we release with our breathing, can be directed behind our brooms in the water to just us a bit of an acceleration. Not to mention, we can use it a bit more creatively in directing the unbreathable water to other creatures as a diversion if needed. But I will have to do some more tweaking for full results."

"Well done, Ryota."

"And you, Akashi?" Aomine's frown remains at the fact that Kuroko was going to be kidnapped, although he looks mildly impressed with Kise. "What's the plan with you, Murasakibara and Midorima? Who's going on defense or offense this time?"

"More likely to be on the defensive." Akashi answered curtly, although vague as his eyes glowed knowingly. "Or at least that would be what others would expect of us to do. To have Murasakibara needing assistance in playing defense against two teams since it will be all three teams in the court. They will see Midorima and I to be that back up."

Kise laughs, bitter and dark. "Something tells me that we will not be playing to expectations, Akashicchi."

Akashi mirrors his most powerful pawn's grin as Aomine feels oddly reassured. Since it's not directed at him. "Of course not. That wouldn't be as interesting, after all."

Chapter Text

Murasakibara chewed on Kise's Valentine's Day chocolate without a sliver of remorse, his own collection already in the bottomless pit of a stomach — each of them having been sent a number of them from teammates and friends alike from Japan (Muro-chin in his case).

But otherwise, the popular blonde model was only rivaled by Akashi, who had his own mountainous pink gifts for St. Valentine's Day.

It was a truly a blessing that the six of them were physically well.

If Mine-chin had not stopped Sat-chin from making her special chocolate…

The thought made the giant almost sick to his stomach. And he had organs of steel.

But even he could not withstand the might of Momoi-cooked poisons.

They had only little more than a week until the Second Task — and it could not help but make him a bit irked.

Defense, as much as he hated the sport, was his domain. Even though Aka-chin and Mido-chin had no doubt of his abilities — if anything, those two knew them better than anyone else other than Kuro-chin, the fact that they were going to be his back-up was annoying and a bit insulting.

But at the same time, he had no illusions to the reality before him. As decimated his opponents would be, half of them were going to be underwater to fight off two teams, guarding three rings and fighting to score with wands. Because as per tournament rules, for fairness, the Mahoutokoro students were limited in their magic due to protests — no wands.

A political move that Akashi smirked at, as he voiced his agreement on their behalf with Matsumoto, when it was proposed by Bagman and the British Ministry. For it made Mahoutokoro appear arrogant yet generous in placing restrictions to level the playing field, while Hogwarts and Durmstrang were weak to counter against the full onslaught of the Kiseki.

Which was clearly proven with the First Task.

So, they decided to move with a different move — by reducing the players in the field. But not too obvious, of course.

Hence, the kidnapping of the Seekers.

If Murasakibara's thoughts were correct, his captain had another plan in action here to prove that even when halved, they were not to be underestimated.

Shrugging the thought aside, he internally huffed. Aka-chin would take care of it.

The sudden sound of knuckles against tempered glass took the Keeper from his thoughts as he turned from his work stations, a potion refluxing on one and distilling on another. On the other side stood the devil man himself, eyes knowing and shielded by reading glasses. So, Mido-chin's saying of speak of the devil and he shall appear did have its merits then.

"Aka-chin." He greeted, offering his captain a seat as he snaps his fingers for all the lab hoods to close, drowning out the ventilation. "I thought you were teaching your division today~?"

"Daiki and Ryota are currently teaching for all of this week as punishment, Atsushi. I believe Tetsuya has yet to forgive them for de-aging him the other day." The captain smiled amusedly before his tone grew serious. "But as fond as I am of informing you of punishments that the two of them have invoked, I have something else to discuss with you, Atsushi."

"Is it about the Task we have to do soon?"

"Unfortunately."

Murasakibara clicked his tongue, as he pours some grounded wings into a colorless solution. "So, what do you have planned, Aka-chin? Any deviations?"

The authoritative captain lifted his glasses. "Not in particular. Ryota and Daiki are aware of their positions as is Shintarou and Tetsuya. The only change in position will be yours."

"Hm." The giant sounds as Akashi eyes the test tubes. "Limitations?"

"No wands." His captain chuckles, picking up one of the vials, sealed. With a push of the small indent on the side, the two last ingredients of the potion combined, to create a small hand-held explosive. "Non-lethal."

Murasakibara let out a small noise of protest but did not elaborate as he neatly shelved the experimental poisons from Kuro-chin, before handing Akashi a set of ampules.

Class IV — Flammable, Corrosive, and Venomous — Non-Lethal

How boring. His goddess hums to him. These Westerners are too soft.

He agrees. But to be fair, we would have done better if we were bit softer. We could have avoided the whole dead goddess mess with Aka-chin's goddess.

She huffs but does not counter him as Aka-chin leaves. That will never happen to you, Atsushi.

I know. He hums.

Because he may have not been slaughtered out of disgust like his goddess, after she had greeted her older brother. But he did have the same sin of gluttony. To consume what all he could have in obsession. So much so, that he was punished.

Like his goddess, his magic was tied to food. Only he had to gorge himself, like a beast with an endless stomach. Eating was not enjoyable anymore. It was a chore and a curse.

Until she ate Kuro-chin.

The night before the Second Task, Kuroko Tetsuya was unsurprised to find himself kidnapped via transportation array to find himself before his Headmaster and the other two. 

Dumbledore looked fascinated by the magic, as the Headmaster summoned an orange circle under his feet before a replica appeared under the summoned phantom, after uttering several words. Harry was knocked out via potion while Krum was done with a swift blow to the neck with no repercussions. Appropriate measures were appropriate.

"Matsumoto-kocho." He greets before doing the same with Dumbledore and Karkaroff, who looked surprised to see him conscious. But Kuroko was an expert.

Generally, people were surprised he even existed.

As expressive as he always was, Kuroko kept his composure as he was given a goblet and asked to drink by Madam Pomfrey.

He does not even look in it. "I require a more potent form of the Sleeping Draught to be made unconscious, Pomfrey-sensei. All students of Mahoutokoro are fed common poisons to build immunity. That includes your version of the Sleeping Draught."

Snape and Pomfrey seemed to startle at the information, the former without a doubt filing it away for further investigation while the other wrinkled her brow at the subtle suggestion of child abuse. But says nothing as Barty Crouch frowns.

Before anyone Karkaroff suggest that they go by the way of Viktor Krum, Kuroko speaks up.

"Matsumoto-kocho, may I suggest a solution?"

The old man nods stiffly, beard drifting with the movement.

"To assure the fairness to all participants, I will request Izanami-sama to keep me in a dream state. It will render me unconscious until I am properly retrieved by either you or my team members. She will not inform me of anything or allow me to be aware of my surroundings, by her word."

The word of a Japanese god was binding as a curse to the depths of Yomi, fulfilled by the shikome and raijin, to drag word-breakers into the Netherworld. The former were ugly, cursed women who were more of rotting hags that craved for retribution of their own grudges of wrongs done to them, driven by vengeance and malice. While the latter were frightening gods of lightning and thunder that rode on clouds, to drag malicious souls to their mistress, beating drums causes thunderclaps and cracks in the night sky.

And this applied to gods just as severely as mortals.

The Headmaster of Mahoutokoro flinches. "K-Kuroko-kun. You can... request such a thing to Izanami-sama?"

Snape narrows his eyes. There was a deeper story here. One that they obviously were not privy to.

The only conscious student nods.

Izanami-sama?

I heard, little one. Very well. I shall indulge you in your request, as long as you indulge me in my own.

And what is that, Izanami-sama?

Consider it.

Kuroko's demeanor grows cold, as he seats himself on the only unoccupied bed. Not yet.

I am only ask for consideration, little one. You know as well as I do, I cannot make you choose. Only advise. And this is my request to you in exchange to yours, if not, I shall not allow for you to sleep in the embrace of my shadows. She pauses. What will it be?

Sighing, the Seeker of Mahoutokoro agrees, before his eyes veil in the darkness as hands begin to bind him. 

A loud bang echoed in the room as everyone in the Shuinsen felt the rift in power.

The Seconds of every division quickly stood, knowing the protocol when their Masters were in that particular meeting room. Yellow-badged Seconds wrote the most powerful defense arrays that went both ways, while purple Seconds splashed the doors with Dreamless Elixir, a Class III Potion, to ensure that no fool was stupid enough to enter the room.

("What happened the last time that happened?" One of the pink robed students asked last year.

The then-Seconds winced collectively as one of the blue-badged boys placed a hand on her shoulder, a solemn expression on his face. "She fell off the ship."

The girl looked confused, clearly having heard something much more descriptive when the same Second tightened in his hold on her shoulder, firm but not painful.

"She. Fell. Off. The. Ship.")

Within the room, Aomine stood over a calm Akashi, his azul magic crackling around him as an annoyed Kise and a disapproving Murasakibara held the ace back. Purple harpoons dug into the clothes and in between the ace's legs that forced the growling ganguro to his knees, and a two-way protective array at his feet that glowed with golden force, resolute as it clashed with the lightning blue. Green tendrils coiled over flinching fists, ready to fly.

Despite the efforts, the ship was still shaking.

"Daiki. Calm yourself." Akashi orders, his gaze cool. Yet heterochromic as the golden orbs glows. "Remember who your god serves, and remember just who is mine."

Eyes glowing with defiance, the ace relented as the ship stopped shaking and the magic holding him down receded.

For his god was the royal guard of the Sun Goddess, herself, her eternal protector — under the rule of the Imperial House. Aomine was able to counter Akashi's attacks, but to directly attack his god's master, it went against the code of bushido that embodied Hachiman.

Loyalty was not the same as fondness, however, as Hachiman, even if bound by his word and immortality, held no love for the fearsome Amaterasu.

"Now, then." Akashi resumes, as if nothing occurred. "As I was saying, Tetsuya will only regain consciousness if he resurfaces. By the time you locate Tetsuya, I will have Ryota remain with him to properly activate the scriptures."

Any protest that Aomine had died before it could be fully born as the logic of their captain was sound. With half of the team already MIA, they no longer needed Aomine to search for their phantom. It was more useful for him to join Akashi, Midorima and Murasakibara in the game on the surface. Since Tetsu had another objective in this Task — to locate that damned gold ball with the entire Black Lake as their field. Having Aomine or even Kise by his side would have been an annoyance than any help since Kise was only there for the Scriptures anyway.

Scriptures that had been temporarily tattooed to their backs, since paper Talismans were useless in water.

All Eastern wizards had their own share of markings due to the sub-branch of Scriptures, a more effective form of talismans that the material itself used was the body itself. However, unlike the use of Talismans, the more visible the Scriptures was, the less effective — for they drew into the magical reserves of the body, like a parasite.

Therefore, for temporary use of Water Manipulation, Air Manipulation, Water Summon and Air Summon — the scriptures were inked on their bodies with full display, the elemental talismans intertwined with their respective counterpart so intricately that it was undeniably the ability of the Tasai of the Goddess of Beauty.

But unlike them, Kuroko's body had no reserves to support normal magic.

He would drown even with the Scriptures on his body. But there was one loophole. Because like Talismans, Scriptures could be charged with magic — drawing from that before moving onto the host's magical reserves.

But still... Akashi ordered for the blonde to accompany the ace for insurance.

Clearing her throat, the manager snapped her fingers to bring the projector to life, prompting them to return to the purpose of the meeting.

Displayed on the screen was the Black Lake and three images in shocking clarity: the first was a small pale-green creature, head bald and eyes beady as small horns protruded from the crown, in the place of legs the creature had six tentacles as it bared rows of small, pointed teeth.

The second was a race of merpeople, only if the sailors were seriously blind as they were much less attractive than their mythical counterparts, hands webbed and faces more horse-like, eyes a sickly yellow, skin a dying grey and hair tendrils of decaying algae.

And lastly, was a… giant squid with a yellow eye, staring blankly into the lens.

"These are the three species of creatures that inhabit the lake that we have the potential in encountering." Momoi pointed to each in order with a laser pointer.

"The first are Grindylows, vicious water demons that are aggressive to humans and wizards — they can electrocute and are not below hurting you if you near them. They're no bigger than five feet and are tamed by the merpeople.

The merpeople in the lake, are called Selkies, they are seven feet on average and are sentient — they are usually peaceful unless provoked — to which then, they wield spears and small tridents. But otherwise, would most likely be the ones who will guarding the hostages in the lake from anything from harming them.

The last is the most peace-loving creature, the giant squid — he apparently likes to have his tentacles tickled in the summer and is partly domesticated."

The five of them stared blankly. These… English wizards were so… strange…

Continuing as if nothing was at all odd, the manager clicked to change the image — now displaying the lake that three sets of rings, equidistant from one another. One set was of polished iron, heavy wood and finally, embellished gold.

"On the surface, Mukkun, Midorin and Akashi-kun will be defending the rings and be scoring points for us against the remaining players. Krum and Potter will be with Tetsu-kun. It will be a three-way Quidditch match with rainfall."

"Only rain?" Akashi rose a brow as Momoi nodded.

So, they had a limited hold over weather. Though, it was not to the level of Aomine. Interesting.

"To lessen visibility to make things interesting on the surface." Momoi quoted from the Death Eater professor. "You each will be using a set of goggles in addition to your brooms, any of you can enter and exit the water at anytime and all Quidditch rules are in effect with the exception of wands for our opponents against any creatures in the lake — we are limited to non-lethal magic for the entire duration.

Bludgers will be doubled will fly from the waters — only the Quaffle will be unchanged for this game. The Snitch can be found anywhere on the field and only be caught by a Seeker as always, all points are the same. Scores will be announced after the game and be put in consideration for the final scores after a judging by the judges."

"So what, our scores may not mean anything in the end?" Aomine addressed.

"I don't think that was the implication here, Aomine." Midorima sniffed, lifting his glasses. "Our scores will most definitely have a large influence, but rather, our actions and teamwork can be determining factors. This Task is exceptionally more difficult than the First, and we will need to work together to do well."

"A pleasure to be working with you, Mido-chin~ Aka-chin~" Murasakibara hummed, behind a bag of marshmallows as Aomine turned to the giant with an incredulous look.

"You're playing offense, Murasakibara?"

"Mhm. Aka-chin said so."

"Then who's playing Keeper?" Aomine blinked.

"Saa~?" The giant did not look all that worried.

"Midorimacchi?" Kise threw out. Even though his voice was colored with clear doubt. Akashicchi and Midorimacchi never played Keeper. "Are you playing as Keeper?"

"Did I ever imply that?" Midorima shot back rhetorically with a huff. "Of course not."

"Akashi?" The ace deduced with elimination though it was colored with incredulity.

"On the contrary, I am not neither, Daiki." The emperor circled his table, walking over the image of the lake, eyes gazing wistfully at the depths as if his phantom was already in there. "While you and Ryota are in the lake, there will be three Chasers controlling the game above you. There are no Keepers in our formation tomorrow."

Kuroko reflected on their past as he slept — one of the many gifts from the goddess that had blessed him — lucid dreaming.

It took him to the first time he had met his goddess.

He was, unsurprisingly, the last to forge his with his goddess among his friends — although it was more of a spontaneous signing after the two parties discussed the conditions for years than anything else.

For the moment he swore his word, he broke it.

Devastated, his goddess shielded him the best she could, interfering as much as the Ancient Laws would allow — but the conditions of their contract were binding, remaining in stone and blood.

Despite the situation, Kuroko was thankful. For he existed solely because of her.

I will not have my Tasai suffer the same fate as I have, little one. No god nor goddess wishes that for any of their chosen.

The gods were immortals that operated through them, relishing in using the Tasai as their playthings — Kuroko and his friends were no different. Kuroko was content being an obscure Kazoku that was almost declared a Defect, if not, for his natural invisibility that had lead him into be noticed, ironically enough.

But it was not all bad. Kuroko recalled the times that his goddess had tried to guide him, befriend him and ask for him to do things for her rather than demand them.

Her legend was a tragic one as all gods were condemned to, after all. They were beings that did not change.

She had whispered to him in his sleep then, when his mind was the weakest.

Before he was adequate enough in Mind Manipulation.

"Do not fear me, little one." A feminine voice breathed softly as a seven-year-old Kuroko Tetsuya opened his eyes to see a beautiful woman before him.

She appeared several years more youthful than his mother, yet in the way she carried herself made her seem as old as his grandmother. Her eyes were a soft red, like the abyss of a dull sunset, framed by long lashes and soft bangs over her forehead before cascading down her back. She wore a simple kimono that hung loosely over her shoulders, revealing the porcelain skin under the white inner and purple layers of her robe. With a ruby obi at her waist, the most eye-catching of her outfit was twin fan-like ornaments adorning either side of her head, blood-red with thin plates of silver dangling from them.

With a small smile of painted lips, she spoke. "I am not here to hurt you, young Tetsuya."

"Who are you, if you do not mind me asking, my lady?" Kuroko asked politely before bowing his head, finding himself already seated, unfazed by the dreamscape. "I am Kuroko Tetsuya, it is a pleasure to meet you."

The beautiful woman smiled wider, approving of his manners. "I think you know, Tetsuya. After all, I have known you since your birth, but I shall oblige. I am known as Izanami, little one. Goddess of Yomi, the Land of the Dead. And you are my Tasai."

Kuroko's eyes widened slightly. "Yours?"

Laughing lightly, her eyes gleamed with amusement as she nodded before explaining to him the abilities and titles he was now endowed with.

It seemed to be so long ago, that he had first met Izanami.

The Goddess of the Darkness, Creation and Death.

But like her, ironically, he had condemned himself out of love, suffering in the name of abandonment and betrayal. Only in his story, he had been given a look of horror of his desecrated form. His soulless body was not scorned or turned away like his goddess' rotting flesh when seen by her husband.

Little one.

He turns in the mindscape, her form no longer the stunning woman he met at first. Instead, she only had one eye now, too orange to be Akashi-kun's. Oily hair swayed with rusted silver pieces that dangled limply with her approach, her robes were tattered and soiled with old blood, clearly slaughtered once upon a time as they revealed a too pale-skinned leg as the other was blackened bone. Just as hollow as her other eye, the legs of a centipede winked at the curve of the socket at Tetsuya as he greets his goddess, rotting more and more with every visit.

Chapter Text

Cedric observed his opponents carefully as they all lined up under the frontmost of the four terraces, with four levels, off-center to the Black Lake.

Other than the one that the teams were gathered under, the terraces were for each respective school, while judges and professors along with staff for the event took to the one they stood on — many of pureblood lines 'invited' to the event.

The borders between the teams were clear — Durmstrang on the left, Mahoutokoro on the right, with them in the dead center — and Cedric knew it was no coincidence. His team, like the other two were agitated by the absence of their Seeker. But unlike their resolved determination after Davies had figured that Potter was their 'stolen' object, the other two teams resonated with a different aura.

Like... an anticipation?

But, for some reason, that didn't feel like the word for it.

Unlike their respective House wetsuits that covered the human anatomy with the modesty of a leotard with shorts of Hogwarts, the students of Durmstrang had a more uniformed front.

It displayed less skin, the collars zipped at the neck with no sleeves — colored a rusted brown with their names in white across the back of their shoulders. As they stoically strapped on their wands at their foreleg, the Hogwarts captain was not oblivious to hardened eyes and nervous glances towards the waters — Was the Durmstrang team this lost without Krum? 

His eyes flickered to the only male who made a decent effort to not appear too tense, the vice captain, Ivan Poliakoff. Cedric turned his gaze to their Eastern opponents, the most intimidating of them.

Gathered at the bench, they appeared to be the image of nonchalance.

The captain was seated at the center with crossed arms, gaze locked on the waters as the wind picked up around them.

A storm was predicted for the morning as light rain already pattered upon the lake — but unlike the disgruntled spectators, Aomine, who beside the captain, appeared lax, uncaring. Dressed like his team, the blonde Chaser stood off to the side, nodding to their manager as she handed him a golden necklace.

Bare-chested under light blue track jackets that were similar to the ones he had seen some American Muggles sport with last names emboldened on the back, tight-fitting nylon trunks covered their body, with a single stripe of blue before it was inscribed with Japanese — most likely their first names.

On the other end, was the other remaining players doing something that Cedric would have not allowed any of his players do before the particular Task before them — eating bars of chocolate and messing with an electric handheld device. All in all, everything appeared normal with the Mahoutokoro team — but there was an underlying feeling to their indifference.

Nerves?

No. Cedric shot down immediately. They were not nervous. His team was nervous and they hid it horridly. 

The way Johnson played with her golden skirt with anxious fingers, Davies with a narrowed gaze on the water surface as it began to rain, even himself in the way he shot 'discreet' glances at the two coiled males in red-gold and green-silver suits, the two captains ready to go head to head while Montague played the peacemaker without Potter, finding the task more troublesome than he bargained for.

Sighing, Cedric strapped on his goggles over his forehead, readying himself. Then if that wasn't it… then what?

Before Cedric could figure it out for himself, the hour had arrived.

"Welcome to the Second Task!" Dumbledore's voice boomed, as the remaining students were ferried in via canoe, the shouts and cheers for the Teams rising in volume as they realized the Task was finally upon them. "Last night, something was stolen from each of our Champion Teams. The ones who end all games, all lie at the bottom of the Great Lake. In order to win, each Champion Team must free their Seeker who are tasked to find the Golden Snitch. However, on the surface of the Black Lake, a game will be held against the Teams. The game will only end when the Golden Snitch is caught."

"However, they will only have one hour to find their Seeker and there is no sign of the Seeker after that, they are on their own." The voice sounded with finality as the Teams readied themselves, most coiled and ready to spring into the dark waters. "No magic will save them. You may begin at the sound of the cannon!"

BOOM!

And with that sound, multiple things occurred at once.

As per plan, Roger Davies and Cedric Diggory were to dive into the Black Lake, summoning their brooms under them as they planned to race in to find their Seeker — all brooms were equipped for underwater use — with Alexei Levsei and Vasily Dimitrov doing the same, eyes hardened with resolve.

All while to leave the task of playing the surface game to the rest, Cedric hid a flare of confidence.

They outnumbered the two teams by one, and even though to leave the Gryffindors and Slytherins together appeared to be a mixture for team destruction, they all knew that the stake of losing one hundred fifty points was too great to lose.

And who better to find a lost Seeker than two other Seekers?

With a nod to Johnson and Montague, who were chosen to keep the peace, Cedric steadied himself before darting into the icy water, Davies hot on his trail as a large bubble formed over the lower half of their faces, granting them breath in the Black Lake.

Barely enough for an hour.

Then we'd better make the most of it. 

Cedric steeled himself, commanding his broom to dive deeper. The water was icy as gooseflesh formed over his person, shivering lightly before gripping his broom, grounding himself. 

Focus. 

Taking in his surroundings, the lake was vast, he realized.

A small valley gleamed in the distance, too dark to see clearly but a dark outline, the water an algae infested green. A thick forest of kelp and aquatic plant life surrounded the valley, a clear maze to all who wished to enter the valley.

Looking behind him, Cedric exchanged a determined nod at Roger — there.

Before they could even move, however, two streaks of color darted past them with electrifying speeds underwater — leaving a trail of foamy bubbles behind them. 

Blue and yellow that couldn't be Durmstrang. Leaving it to be the Miracles.

Making to follow, Cedric froze as he noticed something that Roger had also stared wide-eyed at.

The two of them… had no bubble over their face. They had no gills. Instead, they seemed to stream through in the waters with the ease of a flier in the air — glares dark with retribution behind clear goggles as discs of magic crackled from their free palms, cutting mercilessly through the kelp.

But how? 

Cedric shook himself out of his shock before propelling himself after the Miracles, the blades of kelp scratching his legs as he cursed this tournament mentally.

It was not anticipation or frustration in their eyes. It was annoyance. Annoyance that someone dared to take their Seeker.

The moment the cannon went off, Wood immediately clasped himself on his broom before taking off into the now full-on humid rain that pelted them, soaking him to the bone as he made for the rings.

The plan was to have him on defense while Montague and Flint evaded the Bludgers from Johnson the best they could, and if she was able to get the opening — score precious points. Eyes scanning to the other teams, Wood found a similar formation for Durmstrang, with the lack of Chaser but found to his surprise, saw no such strategy with the Miracles.

Instead, the three players were spread in two-to-one, the captain hovering ten feet from the rings and while the other two hovered over where Madam Hooch stood at the center of their 'pitch' which was the entire lake, ready to release the Quaffle.

And with another boom, the game began.

Oliver Wood watched in awe as the Japanese Keeper claimed the Quaffle with a swift grab with his long limbs, hands nearly covering half the entire ball.

With a cheer from the crowd, the Miracles had control of the game, as the Bludgers made their appearance as well — one nearly taking out Johnson if Flint had not sent it back into the waters below.

Wood gripped his broom as he continued to watch from the Hogwarts rings.

Murasakibara outmaneuvered Vukchanov's dive with a series of zigged turns that made him dizzy from just watching from because of that blasted broom of his, the switch of his broom enabling him split-second twists before the giant was ten yards from the steel rings.

Desperate to defend, the Bulgarian Keeper, Poliakoff, lunged to guard and on the side, Lev Zograf, their Beater, readied to send a Bludger towards the tall Japanese male, not to mention a recovered Vukchanov and a ready Johnson on his tail. Murasakibara was surrounded in all angles.

The Keeper is cornered. Wood thought, as he shook his head. This was why they had designated positions, no Keeper could do a Chaser's job.

However, unlike Wood's thoughts, the Keeper displayed no panic.

Instead, to his amazement, the giant continued his flight, eyes ignoring his predicament entirely as they were glued to one thing. 

The Durmstrang Rings...!

As if he believed fully heartedly, he would be fine.

Wood did not know whether to commend him for his belief or to wonder how he got this far.

When, suddenly from the left, two Bludgers burst from the lake, making for Vukchanov and Johnson — clipping both of them as they immediately recoiled, faltering from their pursuit to possess the Quaffle.

But there was still Zograf's Bludger.

Wood watched as it made for the purple Master, who bent his arm back to score. Was he a Chaser instead in this game?!

Only for him to not.

Instead, the leather ball went flaying backwards as the Quaffle connected with the Bludger.

Zograf's Bludger of all things!

A Reverse Pass!

Ricocheting, the Quaffle was caught into the hands of Midorima, who threw it into the left ring after Poliakoff had dove for the center one, fooled by the fake to shoot by Murasakibara. 

Wait. What about Zograf's Bludger? Wood thought, looking for it. Did he dodge it?

No. He didn't have to. Wood realized. It looked like it was heading for Murasakibara, but with a curve of the hit from the Quaffle, it connected with Poliakoff's broom, making him spin dangerously but he was okay enough to return his momentum, assuring Midorima the time to throw in the Quaffle for first blood.

The Bulgarian caught his gaze in the rain. They both saw that play for what it actually was.

It was a feint to look like he was going to score to take out the Keeper.

"Have you caught on?" A voiced asked beside him.

Nearly falling off his broom in shock, the Gryffindor captain found himself beside the captain of the Miracles, his bat clipped his belt.

Hair dripping with rainwater and as soaked as Wood felt, and yet somehow, Akashi looked as intimidating as a general commanding his army in the midst of a disagreeable battlefield. "Atsushi is a bit rusty in his execution, if you would forgive his decreased speed. It has been a while, after all, since he has played offense."

Wood knew that this Fourth Year was not speaking to him on a whim. 

Akashi Seijuurou was the captain of the best Quidditch team of the world.

He was the one who sent those two Bludgers at Vukchanov and Johnson from underwater, forcing Zograf to retaliate with his own Bludger, only to play straight into their hands in trying to counter their unorthodox methods. And he wasn't only talking about the fact that they timed a Bludger to ricochet the Quaffle to score.

They also miscalculated. They didn't think that Murasakibara wouldn't be Keeper.

And that was in-part, his fault.

Because the thought of a Keeper being able to not defend was not possible. At least to Wood.

A Keeper, especially an experienced one, knew that they was the last line of defense for their team and therefore, it was unspoken to never leave their post. And if they did, they was either out cold for the week, certifiably insane or… the Keeper had decided that defence was unnecessary.

There was no explicit rule that they couldn't pass, or bat away a Beater, they were usually too busy to even consider it.

Because defense was never unnecessary.

Akashi Seijuurou was insane. 

What kind of captain forsakes defense against two teams? Sure, they were halved but still…!

As if reading his thoughts, the younger captain smiled.

It was a normal upturn of the lips that was everything a smile shouldn't have been.

"Defense is not needed when your opponents are not adequately armed, Wood. And the only weapon you have on this battlefield is your team and the Quaffle. Denied any of the two — you are no more than spectators in this game…"

Behind him, he saw Midorima intercept Vukchanov, who had the Quaffle, his face contorted into the deer-in-the-headlights look when Murasakibara suddenly faked a punch to his person, never making contact as the startled reaction was enough to bat the Quaffle out of his hands with his own large ones, giving Midorima the opportunity to take the ball.

Then as he spoke, Akashi back-batted another Bludger heading for them without as much as a blink with his bat, sending it accurately at the Bulgarian Keeper once more, effectively covering his team to score.

Without breaking eye contact with Wood. Not even once.

"… but do not worry. I will allow the illusion of being a player for a bit longer."

Wood did not know whether to be angered or relieved.

He chose anger.

"We have a game to play, Akashi." Oliver swore as Akashi looked at him like he had said something in childish declaration.

"I see. Well, then. A word of advice to you, Wood." Akashi imparted, voice tinged with almost mocking mirth. "Be aware of your surroundings, for objects are closer than they appear."

Wood stared him confusedly.

But before he could ask for elaboration, the redhead left, with an amused glint in his heterochromic eyes.

Aomine was, understandably, annoyed at the world in a general sense.

See. 

If you happened to awaken one morning and had been reminded that the night before, your best friend and shadow, was basically kidnapped (whether it was consensual or not, it was still kidnap. Last he checked, that shit was still universally illegal as fuck.) to be a trophy for the entertainment of your fellow peers in a tournament that was a low-key plot to get annoying young magical persons to die; Aomine was pretty fucking sure that anyone would have at least been mildly annoyed.

Oh, and did he mention that his friend was underwater in an enchanted sleep, guarded by beasts that looked like cross-breeds of octopi and ugly mermaids?

Disgusting.

Daiki. Ryota. Akashi's voice resonated, his voice cold in his mind.

I know. Aomine growled back as he sped through the mercolony, flipping off the ugly finned beasts ("Inferior subspecies of kappas." Midorima sneered in his head.) as he swam past with a blasting Kise beside him, all of them ignoring the mental spells and curses from them as they fired off at the creatures. We're almost there.

And indeed, they were.

Less than five minutes later, Aomine and Kise arrived at the place the Seekers were guarded.

Deep into the outskirts of the mercolony, the Seekers were tied to a once magnificent marble arch by the ankles, in what once must have been a prodigious plaza of high arches to welcome the public to view the sights and gardens. But now, they were cracked and submerged in the bottom of the Black Lake, a shadow of the previous empire it once was.

Kuroko, like Harry and Krum, appeared fast asleep as he floated aimlessly, soft hair swaying in small waves. But despite the serene expression on his face, Aomine and Kise were all too aware that they were not alone, as the grindylows and merpeople had paused their attacks for now but that did not mean that they weren't lurking just out of range. Aomine resisted the urge to pull out his hidden arsenal of daggers.

("Non-lethal, Daiki."

"But—!"

Akashi rose a brow.

"At least, let me bring the daggers."

"Ceramic and curable poisons."

"Deal." Curable to humans, anyway. Aomine heard as he armed himself.)

Kurokocchi! Kise cried out in their heads, making the others cringe at the mental cry.

Shut up, Kise! Aomine shot back as he gathered the small shadow in his arms. Cut the stupid thing and let's go! You know, we have a time limit here, dumbass!

Kise pouted but knew better than to retort before severing the rope that held their Seeker captive. Let's go, Aominecchi!

Glancing at the other Seekers, Aomine felt no desire to help them. None. Nada. Zlich.

This was a Task to test their teamwork and if they were unable to follow through, that was on them.

Speaking of teams...

Securing Kuroko on the crook of his arm, resting his legs on his broom, Aomine steadied himself for a minute before holding a hand back at Kise. Hold on, Kise.

Aominecchi? 

Kise blinked behind his goggles as he followed after Aomine took off, the azul Chaser gesturing for him to follow, not breaking the surface yet as they flew on their brooms to the other side of the lake, rather than to the middle of the pitch as they planned for their grand entrance. Distracting anyone from seeing Kurokocchi.

What are you…? Kise began to question before his amber eyes narrowed with knowing, putting the two and two together as he noted where they were, making several bubbles escape his lips from his chuckle. This brings formless shooting into another element, Aominecchi.

Right? Aomine grinned as he could feel the others' mirth. Think you up to it, Akashi? Midorima? Murasakibara?

Hmph. Midorima huffed, passing the Quaffle. It is not a stupid plan. For an idiot.

Aomine was too excited to be insulted as Murasakibara hummed.

Saa~ Mine-chin does have his moments, Mido-chin.

I am inclined to agree, as rare as Daiki's ideas are to be. Akashi sounded amused. Very well. A change in plans. Do as you please, Daiki. Then you will join the rest of us in offense. Ryota, activate Tetsuya's Scriptures in the meantime. Keep him out of sight as planned.

Handing off Tetsu to Kise, the blue-haired Beater grinned wolfishly as he got into position, just below the surface that right below the rings of Hogwarts.

Adjusting his gloves, the ace readied himself. 

He was going to make a hell of an entrance. Time to teach these Western wizards what they could really do.

Kuroko coughed as he awoke, soaked as he shivered internally at the cold temperature of the Black Lake seeped into his form. Feeling a warm hand stroking his back comfortingly, he blinked before meeting a pair of relieved amber eyes, Kise smiling brightly as the rain pelted them.

He was nestled in the blonde's arms, as they floated with just their heads above water. For once, the blonde did not cling to him with noodle arms, but instead, held him with enough space to breathe and wary of hurting him.

It was almost… nice, yet strangely worrying that such a situation was enough to make Kise not act like his usual clingy himself to him.

Good morning, Kurokocchi! Kise smiled as the blonde's voice vibrated in his mind.

Good morning, Kise-kun. Kuroko replied after establishing the telepathic link with the others. Good morning to you all as well; Midorima-kun, Aomine-kun, Murasakibara-kun and Akashi-kun. I apologize for my absence.

No need for apologies, Tetsuya. But I'm afraid that we cannot have pleasantries at the moment. Are you feeling up to your part? Akashi's voice cut in before anyone could say anything more as the question was more of an inquiry to his status rather than whether his Seeker could perform. 

Of course, Akashi-kun. Kuroko replied, eyes catching his captain sending more Bludgers at towards the Hogwarts' players.

Then I leave the Snitch in your care, Tetsuya. Ryota, keep yourself hidden, until I say so, it is only fitting for you to have an entrance of your own. Shintarou, towards the base of the rings. Atsushi, cover him. And I will cover you. Daiki, ready yourself.

Receiving a grunt and various forms of agreement, the captain mentally dismissed them as Kuroko noted the game that was taking place while he was asleep.

Durmstrang currently held the Quaffle as their Chaser was trailed by Midorima-kun and Johnson, while Murasakibara-kun watched from above, his violet eyes obscured by goggles but the phantom had no doubt that the center had a close eye on the movements of the sharpshooter, waiting. The wind bit at his face as the rain pelted down with threat of thunder rumbling above but no one paid it any heed. 

Akashi-kun, in the other hand, was on the other side of the pitch, several feet from their rings — seemingly on defense but was too far from the rings to be really considered a defensive position.

Dodging a Bludger from the Hogwarts' Beaters, Murasakibara-kun suddenly darted towards the three-way chase for the Quaffle.

Two of the three Chasers saw the giant, and Vukchanov was not one of them.

Nosediving to avoid collision, the Bulgarian Chaser flailed behind, out of the race as he dropped the Quaffle.

With a corkscrew twist, Midorima caught it, skimming the surface as the crowds' cheers roared with Johnson after him in a heartbeat, Murasakibara not too far behind.

Another pair of Bludgers neared the action as the crowd gasped as one of them hit Johnson, straight in the abdomen, knocking her out into the waters. Sent from the accurate batting of Akashi-kun.

One Chaser down.

But to the relief of the spectators, the girl was retrieved by the nearby medical staff led by Madam Pomfrey's capable hands. The other Bludger, in the other hand, flew parallel to Midorima, who was backed by Murasakibara as they came to their goal, the Hogwarts' goal posts, just outside of the scoring area.

Drawing his arm back to score, Midorima released the Quaffle.

As if out of nowhere, Wood appeared over the central ring, ready to counter the goal when to his and everyone else's surprise, found that the leather ball had been thrown over the post, sailing past his head.

Out of bounds. Wood blinked as he made to retrieve the ball. A rookie mistake? Here?!

Now, Daiki. 

And with that command, a figure burst from the waters below, dripping wet and with a predatory smirk on his face. Aomine Daiki's eyes glowed with sparks of his azul magic, as he appeared before Oliver Wood, so close that their noses could have touched. Startled, Wood immediately backed off, the two at the very edge of the pitch almost everyone forgetting that the Quaffle was still there.

But due to the long range throw from Midorima, the Quaffle was still in play, which quickly came into Aomine's possession.

Shit! Wood cursed himself vehemently as he recovered, flying after Aomine.

But that was all the momentum the other Mahoutokoro Beater in this game needed.

With a backhand, Aomine batted the Quaffle at Murasakibara, who had thrown up a barrier, and like using the backboard as a spring, ricocheted the Quaffle into the goal. And having last thrown by Midorima, it was still counted as a score by the sharpshooter.

Distracted by the unconventional play, Wood failed to see the Bludger deadlocked to hit him in the chest, effectively knocking the wind and consciousness out of him. Across the pitch, Akashi watched with mirth, the gold of his left eye gleaming almost wickedly.

One Keeper down.

Kuroko knew that look well. Akashi-kun played with the Gryffindor, it seemed.

All according to plan. 

The smugness in their captain's voice was almost detestable.

But he had seen enough. Kuroko's gaze turned away from the desperate situation that was Hogwarts, who was down not one player, but two — their Chaser and Keeper.

Leaving only their two Beaters, two remaining Chasers, and Seeker — the last three having yet to surface.

Only to have a trio of shark heads surface from the center of the pitch, catching the attention of the game and a few second after, a coughing Potter with Diggory and Davies beside him.

Kuroko hummed, as he mentally asked Kise for the time — perhaps, they were underestimating them a bit too much?

Regardless, Kuroko turned away.

He had a Snitch to catch, after all.

"You have got to be shitting me."

A snort and a loud smack of a wet palm meeting skin.

"I'm not fucking with you, Puffball. Those dumbass Gryffindors got themselves caught in the Japanese's traps and like hell am I going to let you waltz your ass into it too. The score is 180-50-70, and we're the one that is twenty behind Durmstrang. So, go do what you signed up for and command!"

"B-But-!"

"But nothing!" Marcus Flint looked like he was going to hit him with his bat like he did with the Bludger that threatened to take him and Cedric out earlier as he roared over the storm. "We're down two of our own and if you're going to be useless, then go brain yourself on those Bludgers! At least then, you'd be fucking useful!"

"Shut up, both of you!"

Turning their attention, they both found themselves before a frowning Montague. "We have no time for this! You two arguing are not making this any better. Diggory, you do your fucking job and follow the plan. You don't have Wood or Johnson, but you have me, Flint and Davies. If those Miracles and Bulgarians can operate without most of their team, then so can we. Now, go!"

And with that, the Beater left to bat away the incoming Bludgers from Durmstrang and Mahoutokoro respectively.

Montague scowled. He knew that their levels were completely different. But not by this much. Even with the handicaps of no wands, being underwater for most of it, teams halved and even going against two other teams — the fucking Japanese champions were doing too fucking well.

If anything, they were like sharks in the fucking lake, smelling the fear and weakness.

Krum and Potter were back in the game.

And Montague wasn't sure if he was too sure if their presence made the game better or more chaotic.

Seekers always threw the game off. One hundred and fifty points for one fucking ball.

He always thought the position and the point reward was too wide.

Wait. Had the Mahoutokoro Seeker surfaced yet? Did they find him? 

Glancing at the Japanese players, their behavior indicated that much. 

So, why not the fanfare, like Durmstrang or even Potter? Surely, they would want to show off that they had found their Seeker? Then why hide him? Unless they did not want him to be seen?

But before the Slytherin Beater could confirm his thoughts, another cannon went off, signaling that the hour to find their Seeker was over.

And that was when all hell went loose.

Because the Golden Snitch was found.

Chapter Text

Quidditch did allow for magic and physical contact — however, any direct threats to any players’ person was strictly forbidden. For example, Murasakibara was able to fake a punch to a player, but if it connected, it would have been penalized. Or had Akashi immobilized someone, he would have been as well, but if he had used it to temporarily stop a Bludger heading his way, it would have been allowed.

It was loopholes such as these that were thoroughly exploited.

Kise was a master of such things. He had been taught by the best, after all.

Thank you. His goddess cooed with a seductive purr. Scoffing at the ego stroking that was not taking place, the blonde mortal refrained from speaking. He had his orders. But still. Bitch.

In present company, he would refer to his goddess with the respect she was given, regardless of his opinions of her. But in the personal confines of his mind, that was his right. And she was a fucking bitch.

Summoning his magic circle, the Chaser awaited in the darkness of the lake for his cue.

Above, Aomine laughed with a hint of glee as he sent Bludger after Bludger at the Slytherin duo, toying with his food. Zograf and Vukchanov were doing their best to say out of it with mild success, trying to ensure that the newly surfaced Levsei and Dimitrov were not taken out like Hogwarts’ Johnson. But with an obstacle of one Akashi, who appeared at ease, as he covered the remainder of his team, it was a futile task.

Not that said team needed cover.

From the maneuvering of Murasakibara, who dipped so sharply at one point, Diggory nearly broke his neck trying to keep up — and the moment it got in the hands of Midorima, the score was guaranteed.

But that left an opening.

A very narrow one.

But an opening nonetheless — the Miracles were stretched thin. And anyone, from the stands to the players, knew it.

Aomine had to cover two Beaters. Midorima and Murasakibara had two tails on them each — Levsei, Dimitrov, Diggory and Davies respectively. And to cover his Chasers was only Akashi.

And no matter how good, even Akashi couldn’t cover them both from four others.

The storm raged around them in full force as Montague weaved through the pouring rain, tailed by an encroaching Bludger. Then he saw it.

The cannon fired off as if to signal the end of this metaphorical opening to break this wild goose chase. Because the pitch suddenly filled in golden light.

The Golden Snitch. Was Montague’s first thought. Before it was completely debunked.

Because there were too many of them. Too bright to be the sole golden metal ball. Too small to be the ball that ended all games.

Something else came up from the depths of those brackish waters.

Jaw dropped, the Slytherin watched as thousands of tiny golden orbs of light lit up the air of the pitch and the depths of the lake — the darkness that granted what little cover they had dissipated. And in the center of it all, basking in the artificial sunlight that descended on the storm with a trail of glittering stars was Kise Ryota, grinning like a cruel god.

Because any opening that could have given Hogwarts or Durmstrang any ground was gone with his entrance.

Harry Potter stared in numb horror at the obstacle before him.

Kise Ryota’s move and entrance did not only add an extra able body to the arsenal of Akashi Seijuurou, but also made it an infinitely harder task of finding the Golden Snitch. Technically, the move did not harm anyone since the golden orbs were not blindly bright or get in anyone’s eyes — they were like dim Lumos that acted as lanterns. Distractions from the Golden Snitch and effectively revealing to everyone of their locations, making it near useless to be hidden in the storm or the lake for momentary cover.

And it was no Magical Item neither.

So, it was a completely and frustratingly valid move. 

In his underwater form due to Gillyweed, he saw those golden jewels attached to the Master of Charms’ broom. They were no longer there, detached and glowing with false hopes. He should have known that there was no such thing as decorations or personal add-ons for a professional player, and not to mention, the best team.

Nothing was a coincidence.

A burst of bubbles catches his eye, caused by the blonde of the hour.

Kise grinned as he watched Diggory and Dimitrov give chase to him, the two of them masked with the Bubblehead Charm for temporary air, unaware of Aominecchi’s place just above him to pass to Midorimacchi. All according to plan.

The weight of the necklace no longer on his chest.

Instead, it was nestled in the hands of Kuroko in the side of the lake, the crystal face ticking ever so slowly with every second. As if oblivious to the chaos, the shadow took in the hour with the patience of a sagely monk.

Sixty-seven minutes and twenty-seven seconds.

His orders were simple. Locate the Snitch and then report.

Armed with pre-prepared vials over his wrists for easy access, the phantom hummed as he counted down the seconds with care. Because while it was a violation to have Potions on their person in the beginning of the Task, there was no regulation if a player had ‘found’ said Potions. Planted there prior by one of their subordinates, they ringed ominously over his wrists, hidden underneath his long sleeves.

The score was currently 210-60-80 — with Mahoutokoro, Hogwarts and Durmstrang respectively. To be with a larger gap if all went to Akashi-kun’s plan.

Speaking of Akashi-kun, the captain shifted his hold over the Quaffle with the ease of a basketball, in his possession from the flashy actions of his newest Chaser. Passing it back, he and Aomine-kun sent the Hogwarts counterparts into a frenzy, nearly colliding into one another while Murasakibara-kun declared to the other Chasers that they were not allowed any further.

And he was right. They were not allowed to interfere.

I have the sudden desire to see your long-range shots, Shintarou. The captain smiled as his second-in-command came to view. Will you indulge me?

Hmph. Midorima frowned with a twitch of his cheek. I can acquiesce to your request. For now.

Accepting the answer, Akashi sent the Quaffle his way with a quick pass, his tone light with almost teasing jest. I am honored either way, Shintarou. Show them what you are truly capable of.

It was accidental at first.

That with the development of his observational skills to be an efficient Chaser and passing specialist, Tetsuya noticed something with the Golden Snitch that his captain had not — after his entry to first string, a middle school Kuroko was seated at the stands of the Japanese pitch when he had noted it.

The curious thing about the most elusive ball of Quidditch.

Training today was especially harsh for the first string, as Akashi had set the pitch to stormy conditions in the already turbulent seas but luckily for the phantom, he was dry under the protective wards in the stands. Having been there since the beginning of the practice game, the phantom blinked curiously as he observed the movement of the Golden Snitch.

Humming under his breath, Kuroko reminded himself to speak to Akashi-kun on it later.

But his captain was preoccupied that night.

("Midorima-kun?" Kuroko surveyed the office. "Where is Akashi-kun?"

With a pinched expression, the vice captain met gazes with the phantom.

Ah. There was only one situation that called for that look.

"Haizaki."

That meant that none of them were going to see Akashi-kun tonight. And that he would have to pay his own... visit.)

Tetsuya's chambers were comfortable to his goddess' delight when she had first seen them, the walls a soft beige as mahogany pillars framed the room, a simple desk to one side while his futon was outspread on the other as the paper doors opened to reveal a small zen garden. 

Izanami took a particular love to basking in the moonlight when she visited her Tasai, often seated at porch to the gardens.

"Izanami-sama. Good evening." Turning, the goddess of death smiled with painted lips. Tetsuya stood with comfortable robes for retire, hair damp from his bath as he seated himself beside her. "What brings you to my humble chambers?"

"Good evening, little one." She greeted back, as she kept her gaze to the moon. Neither addressed how half of her face was ashen with sickness. Or how it looked like something had begun to fester under the dead flesh. "Is it too much to visit my champion at such an hour?"

"I apologize." Kuroko bowed his head. "It is simply surprising to have you 'visit' me over such a matter."

Her smile became wicked as she smirked, revealing a Golden Snitch in her rotting hand. "You will find, little one, it is the small matters that impact us the most. Is that not just curious?"

Nodding, the phantom was not surprised to find her aware.

It was always his friends, who weren't.

As easily seen when he had arrived at the the weekly meeting of the Council, Kuroko was seated in his uniform with everyone in attendance. Except Haizaki-kun. Akashi-kun was about to end the meeting of budget, mistakes, and overall, general affairs when he noticed a small hand was risen.

Rising a brow, the captain of Teikou was intrigued.

"Yes, Kuroko?" Akashi addressed, ignoring the subtle kick from Kise towards a slumbering Aomine and the harsh smack to a just as engaged Murasakibara from Midorima. "Is there something you would like to add before we finish this meeting?"

"Hai, Akashi-kun." Kuroko nodded, as everyone turned to him. "I would like to humbly suggest myself to be a Seeker instead of a Chaser."

The Master of Divination rose an eyebrow.

Hear him out, descendant. A commanding, yet nurturing voice rang in the emperor's ears, only audible to him. I doubt that Izanami's Tasai has any unsavory intentions, despite her... reservations towards me.

This is Kuroko. Akashi huffed. Kuroko's thoughts never derange from teamwork or unity. His intentions were never the question, even with your godly politicking. 

The conversation only lasting a second, Akashi kept his ruby eyes on his phantom. "And your reasoning, Kuroko?"

"It would be easier to show you, Akashi-kun."

Nodding his consent, the seven of them gathered outside on pitch with Kuroko on his broom, hovering several feet above ground, his cool blue gaze on the Golden Snitch in Akashi's hand. Releasing the ball, more than one set of eyes widened at the suddenness of Kuroko Tetsuya's catching of the golden winged-ball.

("T-Thirteen seconds…!" Momoi-san gasped.

Akashi-kun grinned widely.)

The flight patterns had become predictable after a few matches.

Needless to say, Akashi was disturbingly pleased with his phantom's new skill to predict the location of the winged ball. With intention, the Snitch was designed to have none said pattern.

But then again, it was designed by humans.

But that was not to say that the observation did not have it's flaws.

Kuroko had to be able to differentiate pattern from pattern based on that alone, therefore, if he was somehow unable to see the Snitch, he would be unable to determine the flight pattern, much less the location of the golden ball. Therefore, if his vision was obscured in some way, he was almost useless as a Seeker.

But Akashi was anything but thorough with his pawns friends therefore, came the addition of the time factor.

With their shared experiments and observations, Akashi proposed that the Snitch had a seemingly random preordained flight pattern like his phantom had stated that ran more unpredictable as time grew, since most games only spanned several days, which was the usual maximum for the most rigorous games.

And the Kiseki never played overtime. Never.

However, Akashi-kun was meticulous.

("Never does not mean that it is not possible, Tetsuya."

Kuroko stares at the golden eye longer than he should.

"Akashi-kun is correct. But with your current strength, what does that matter?"

The topic is not broached until Akashi's eyes are both red again.)

Therefore, after several sleepless nights and experiments, the phantom and captain had an extensive system as far as to where the Snitch would be to the minute or the ten-minute interval for the first 120 hours.

(Murasakibara carries the close-to-dying-into-his-namesake Kuroko on his back, snarking at Kise to hurry up with that gods-damned Teleportation Talisman to their chambers while ignoring the blonde's complaints for being the one that got the privilege to carry the comatose Kuroko.

Who was silenced by the supposed-to-be-dead-to-the-world Akashi, who was carried with the care of very explosive and assured destruction of nuclear weaponry by Aomine, with a twitch of the captain's cheek at the whining, shaving a few years from Aomine's lifespan.

Midorima supported the rear with drooling Momoi, who had ink stains on her fingers, arms hugging their precious data as he acted like he didn't care.

He did. Since he scolded the captain, manager and phantom for their lack of self-sufficiency later.)

Twisting away from a snarling Grindylow with a deadpan expression before using misdirection, Tetsuya watched from afar as the Snitch gleamed with a mocking glow in the dark waters.

It appeared that being underwater did nothing to the flight patterns. Hm.

Cornflower eyes locked on the ball that granted victory. The hour was nearly over.

I have found the Snitch. Kuroko announced with a deadpan.

Well done, Tetsuya. Akashi praised as the others offered their own two cents of compliments before the captain continued. Continue with the plan. Daiki, Ryota, you are to continue as you were, and if obstacles present themselves, remove them. Shintarou, Tetsuya and I will facilitate passes to you and Atsushi — outmaneuvering them is your problem. Let us be finished with this troublesome Task.

Montague internally cursed himself for seeing it too late but could not help being awe at the execution of such a plan. 

Was this the force of a world-recognized team of Quidditch players?

He did not know. But what he did know, was that the play before him was outrageous.

With his form soaked to the bone, Kuroko Tetsuya (who was nothing more than a blur in his green eyes. Merlin, it was like the guy was a ghost or something!) chased after the Golden Snitch with a blank expression.

And as if summoned by the appearance of the winged ball, Potter and Krum too made their appearance, quickly racing after the phantom kid — Potter looking like a fish out of water almost as he kept himself near the water level while Krum undid his Transfiguration with a wave of his wand before racing behind on his broom. It was a glorious three-way slugfest for the Golden Snitch. Exactly what everyone wanted to see. 

And with the likeness of such a slippery ball, the Snitch dove into the depths once again, taking all three Seekers with it.

Then, something even more unprecedented occurred.

The Seeker for Mahoutokoro turned away from the Golden Snitch, and instead… disappeared.

Wherethefuckandhowthefuck?! And most importantly, what the fuck?!

Looking around after sending a Bludger towards one of the colorful bastards, Montague scanned the field for the Quaffle. If Mahoutokoro was willing to throw the match, he was not one for looking at the gift horse in the mouth.

A triumphant shout drew his attention as his green eyes found the azul-haired Beater returning his favor, only smacking it in a place where no one was… No! Montague blinked away the illusion. The Seeker was there! And with a palmed move that was too perfect to not be practiced, Kuroko passed the Quaffle (When did he get that?!) in the path of the Bludger, sending it to Kise's hands and into the right ring of Durmstrang, scoring them another ten points.

At this rate, it mattered not who got the Golden Snitch.

Mahoutokoro was going to win.

Snitch or no.

Swearing enough to make any mother scold him with a bar of soap in hand, the Slytherin Beater grunted as Diggory managed to score, by narrowly missing Durmstrang's Bludger. The Quaffle was in the hands of Durmstrang now.

Montague glanced at the score. 270-90-110

If Durmstrang scored and got the Snitch, they would still be behind. Even the Snitch wasn't enough.

Speaking of, the Beater took his attention to the waters. While Kuroko Tetsuya resurfaced, the other two Seekers were not seen, most likely still chasing after the gods-damned thing. How the hell they could tell what was the Snitch and the false Lumos from the Jap blonde, he wouldn't know. It wasn't his job to. As much as he hated the damned thing, if Potter managed to catch the Snitch then at the very least, they had second place over Durmstrang.

At least.

As if by the devil's command, the Snitch revealed itself from the lake once more, bursting from the waters near the audience, giving the show that everyone was there for — Krum and Potter racing after it with speeds of their fine brooms as it flew to the heavens with alarming urgency. All that was missing was the Seeker of Mahoutokoro, who was…?

Montague spun so swiftly he almost gave himself whiplash.

The invisible Seeker?! When did he?!

And with an intercepting grab for the golden ball, the game was finished.

It was over.

Or so they thought.

Montague watched with horror as the three Seekers went past the Snitch and sped toward one another, eyes widening with shock as they were suddenly pulled to collide like someone cursed them to move, several hundred meters above the lake, hands suddenly knuckled onto their brooms for dear life.

None of them knew what was going on, the Slytherin realized in icy shock, as he could only watch, frozen, faded screams echoing in the background of a multitude of languages.

In mid-air, Potter kicked away his Firebolt from under him, grabbing Krum with him to get them away from the predestined crash course of their brooms. Krum had the breath in him knocked out of him as Potter's skull rammed into his jaw, limbs flailing as a loud crack sounded to signify the break in Krum's arm, caught in the conflict.

The Japanese boy did not escape injury either as he too found the broom under him drive him towards his opponents, tackling the accelerating pile with a hard shove, surely to receive similar injury as Potter's tackle took them from the destroyed brooms, splintering like chopsticks. But unlike Krum, Kuroko tucked his knees and delivered kick to his broom before Potter barreled over, slowed by the weight of Krum, the thorns cutting into his bare feet as he barely managed to dodge the to-be piling of Seekers.

But either way, without their brooms, the three were sent downwards, free falling from at least over seven stories.

With the Golden Snitch hovering just out of Harry's outstretched reach. Uncaught.

They couldn't let him fall.

If the Seekers fell, then the game couldn't end.

Speeding over to catch Potter and offer his broom, Montague shook aside his shock, only to stop dead in his tracks as a row of explosions set off under the Mahoutokoro Seeker. Montague was expected to see a corpse. Another addition to the book of Triwizard Tragedies that Potter's Mudblood was reading.

Instead, he sees a soaked, bloodied but very much alive Kuroko Tetsuya, falling feet first.

He somehow cushioned his fall with those explosions. How did he...?

Then with the finesse that Montague did not possess, the Slytherin watched in awe as he noticed it in the boy's hand, vigorously shaking it. It was a light green vial, rapidly growing in hue. He knew that color. Every person who was remotely aware of Seamus Finnigan knew what that color meant.

It was an Exploding Potion.

Montague felt his eyes widen into dinner plates as the Seeker promptly threw it underfoot.

As the vial exploded, the Seeker was blank, the glass tearing into his already mangled flesh. As if he couldn't feel it, Kuroko used the momentum of the firework-like bursts of green, reflecting in the dim Lumos, to propel him upwards as the schools watched in awe as it rocketed him towards his glasses-wearing teammate's broom.

With a swift motion, the Chaser voluntarily grabbed the Seeker before stepping off onto the surface of a green magic circle, retreating to the tents with other outed players. The action jarred him out of his stupor.

The game was not over.

Not yet.

External limbs bloody, the Mahoutokoro Seeker sped after the Snitch, which disappeared into the waters once again, taking the Japanese boy with him. A mangled blur raced past Montague before he realized that it was Krum on Dimitrov's broom, gunning into the waters with a concussed Potter, on Davies' broom right behind him.

The stands were silent as they were, eyes glued to the illusionary peaceful surface of the Black Lake.

Minutes later, with a torrent of waves, it revealed the triumphant and broken arm of Viktor Krum.

It was over.

Durmstrang burst into cheers at the appearance of their champion. But it was short-lived.

As Mahoutokoro had won the war as the crowds broke out in cheers in the full-blown storm. 

Looking over to the aftermath, Montague grimaced as he saw that Diggory had caught up to the glum Potter, taking in the red welt on the Chosen One's head and, without a doubt, bruised ribs (potentially broken) as the remaining others did the same, Flint ready to go into lecturing when Davies' look shut him up. Krum looked like he was concussed with a darkening bruise on his collarbone, broken like his arm, as Karkaroff made his way over, a smug large grin on his oily mug. 

Mahoutokoro's Seeker, in the other hand, was nowhere to be found.

The Slytherin felt a shiver up his neck as the hairs on his back stood. He turned around slowly to see Akashi Seijuurou. The younger man was not even looking at him, and yet, Montague felt his self-preservation instincts scream at him. 

There was no sense of achievement in those eyes. Only cold fury.

Something-No, someone interfered with the Miracles' and their plan. And they were not pleased with such defiance.

Chapter Text

There is a line that is not crossed in every conversation, undisturbed and carefully toed, but never crossed.

It is taboo. But then again, so was his phantom.

There is a reason that social norms and parents teach for their ignorant children to be aware — unfortunately, even with such efficiency that is society, not all children are raised correctly.

Akashi knows everything.

It is his business to know and be in control. It has always been this way — that's why when he discovers his right as a Gifted, before the beginning of middle school, he is less than surprised to find a goddess behind him. If anything, he is unfazed other than a single risen brow, a glint in his red eyes and an amused small upturn of his lips, the only indication of his pleased mood.

She was regal, commanding yet simple in her majesty.

Golden eyes framed by perfect lines of kohl and red eyeshadow scanned him carefully taking in his gifts and minuscule defects as she circled him, painted lips hidden under a glided fan. Her red and navy blue robes floated soundlessly after her, the gold-ankled bare feet quiet on the Victorian carpet, the gold hems catching the candlelight every so often as she continued to circle. Her headdress was simple — a golden, ruby-encrusted tiara with eight pins holding her bun before a cascade of ebony floated behind under a golden veil — her wide sleeves displaying a golden raven in mid-flight and cry. Nothing less than the greatest riches for the sun goddess as ruby tears dangled from her ears, her steps stopped, her unblemished visage revealed as the fan folded in painted nails.

"You are looking as well as my progeny should be, over the centuries, boy." Her voice was fond yet icy, like a winter breeze in early spring to remind that the seasons were not yet free to change.

"I find it hard to believe that my bloodline is as pure as you claim, so I will take it as a term of endearment. But, yes — it is not under my will that I am a Tasai. That power is yours." Akashi bowed in greeting as he smiled softly. "It is nice to finally meet you. I am Akashi Seijuurou, Amaterasu-sama."

The goddess smiled thinly.

"So, you are aware who I am."

Akashi smiles. "My mother may have not been a powerful Kazoku, but grandfather was the closest you had to a Tasai since the age of emperors. And there is no hiding that the Akashi name worships the Imperial House."

"Yet?" Her golden pieces twinkles as a finger runs through the curvature of his violin.

"I have no intention of worship."

I want a contract.

The goddess stills. This is a first. Golden eyes narrow as fire burned with the ferocity of celestial suns in them. "You... Do you know what you are offering and accepting, Akashi Seijuurou?"

Gods kneeled before such a gaze. Akashi Seijuurou was no god.

"Under the terms of a contract, you will grant me one wish of your conditional ability and in compensation, you will take something in equal value to me. Depending in value of the wish, the more severe the compensation, whether it be immediate or in the future. And if I were to break it, you would be free to collect my soul."

"Will you be so foolish, then, Akashi Seijuurou?"

He smirks.

Humans. The goddess of the sun internally sighs. She could never understand them.

Years later, she is alone in a dark basketball court, her precious Tasai shivering in her warm embrace as they are separated from the world in her mirror. His eyes are shifting from red and gold as he holds back his screams, fighting the backlash of his contract. His soul was hers the moment he succumbed to his arrogance, the price that she had coldly placed back then, when she saw through the overconfident child before her.

He was just a child.

But the contract was binding. Even she, a goddess, couldn't do anything about it.

"Amaterasu-sama."

Her golden eyes meets ashen sky blue ones. It was the quiet boy that her child Akashi was fond of.

How... how did he see her in her mirror? He was a Defect.

Then she sees her.

The goddess who had only one Tasai ever in recorded history, because his wish was to die, for the price of living. The goddess couldn't grant it because of her price. So, the boy took matters into his own hands. 

Her curse upon him lives on in the nation to this day, within the depths of modern day Aokigahara.

The goddess of the sun could only wonder now, what did Kuroko Tetsuya wish?

For he no longer had his soul.

Kuroko came to the conscious world slowly, a familiar white bandage along his hair line, meticulously wrapped in gauze and appropriate medical tape — finding himself in his chambers upon the Shuinsen. Afternoon sunlight filtered in as hazy cornflower eyes scanned the slightly darkened room, stopping at the sight of a relieved Momoi as she thankfully did not tackle-hug him, instead asked him if he was awake enough to sit up. Nodding, Tetsuya pushed himself up, with the help of the manager, ignoring his protesting muscles and throbbing extremities.

"Good afternoon, Momoi-san."

The manager smiled weakly, as she poured him a glass of water. "Good afternoon. How are you feeling, Tetsu-kun?"

"I feel fine, Momoi-san. Thank you for your concern." Kuroko lied as he sipped the water gratefully, not telling her the truth to assuage the manager for now. Besides, she knew he was lying. Instead, he glanced around the room curiously. "Where are the others? Were they hurt?"

Morganites hardened with the intensity of ice as she shook her head at the second question. "Akashi-kun had Dai-chan and the others transport you here while he and Midorin took care of things at Hogwarts. The raw scores were 280-90-260; Mahoutokoro, Hogwarts and Durmstrang respectively."

Kuroko blinked. "'Raw scores'?"

Momoi nodded, her eyes cold. "For Harry Potter's heroic actions of saving Krum from any greater harm, the judges decided to reward him fifty points."

"I was unaware that Hogwarts held a modum of blatant favoritism."

Momoi nodded.

Perhaps it was the teachings of the East or the cold standards of Teikou, but such rewards for reckless actions were frowned upon. But it was not like Krum was in any danger since the Durmstrang Seeker could have managed to twist away. But he didn't.

Yes, heroic actions should be rewarded.

But not to just to boost an ego of a teen. Even for a teen being raised for slaughter.

Because if Potter were so heroic, shouldn't Midorima-kun be acknowledged for giving up his broom for a free-falling Kuroko? What of Dimitrov for Krum? And Davies for the Chosen One himself?

Though the amount of rewarded was negligible, seeing how it did nothing to the placing of the schools — it was a matter of morale. Between the behemoth scores of over 200, the two-digit score of the Hogwarts was pitiful and infantile. Therefore, the reward. The fact that it was an ego-boost for their marked-for-death golden goose was a bonus.

"This was a bold move from Dumbledore-kocho." Kuroko states, because it truly is.

Momoi nods, lips pursed. "He has caused the morale of Hogwarts to strengthen as well as cause discord within Mahoutokoro and Durmstrang because of this. Mahoutokoro was proven to not be invincible, breaking everyone's unconscious acknowledgement of an eventual victory while Durmstrang is undermined with their accomplishment in catching the Snitch because Potter earned one third of those as bonus points. He has taken our victory and diverted attention to Potter's heroic actions instead."

"Akashi-kun?"

"With Midorin." She answers, increasing the painkiller drip in his IV. "They are discussing with the Ministry."

"How long?"

"It has been three hours."

He was out of the room before she could stop him. Not that she could.

Like all those years, all she could do was watch. Such was her curse. In exchange for her desperate wish of knowing where all her boys would be at any moment, she gave offered her right to near any of them but one.

She chose her childhood friend.

And could only watch the others, as they slipped from her fingers. And comeback to her again.

Like any notable genius, they had their own painful and impactful history.

Their basketball one was known and true as far as Ningen were concerned. But like every story, it was not the entirety of it all.

To begin, it takes place in a familiar third-string gym.

It is there that the five to-be boys who would-be the Kiseki meet, learn their shared sport of basketball and background of magic. However, unlike the others, Kuroko was a Defect. But it was quickly dismissed.

After their shared attendance in Mahoutokoro when the Ningen school year was over, they were also the strongest Quidditch players in Japan. Because of Teikou. Because it worked with basketball. Because who didn't want to win? Because if they kept on winning, why was it so bad to do it over and over again?

Rumors grew rapidly.

Akashi, Haizaki, Aomine and Midorima were the only ones who had their contracts by the end of their first year. Then in their second year, Kise and Murasakibara had joined them.

Such contracts with their respective gods should have been moments of accomplishment and celebration. But the dismissal of Haizaki made the event a quiet one.

Because Haizaki no longer had his contract.

"Haizaki-kun."

Haizaki flinches. He hadn't changed his robes yet. His white robes.

He turns slowly, meeting unflinching blank eyes. "Kuroko."

"Kishimojin-sama has forsaken you." It is a statement.

Because there was no way a Gifted would willingly give up their link to a god. There had been only one in history, after all and he was the cause of Japan's suicide forest.

So, it could only be the actions of the divine. But it wasn't.

"No. I gave her up."

Haizaki Shugo willingly gave up his goddess. The goddess of despair and misery that took joy in punishing others, who had been with him since he was eleven.

Kuroko stares at him. "Why?"

The former Gifted snorts at him. "Why the fuck do I have to explain myself to you?"

"You burned your basketball shoes." You do not even have basketball to return to. Why give up what all of us hate anyway? When we would have given it to you?

Silence envelopes between them as a wind billows through them.

"I don't want it." I don't want your leftovers.

"And if it wasn't?" Would you want it, then?

Grey eyes see it. It is for just a moment, but he sees her. The half-dead goddess that nurses a necklace of children's teeth like milky pearls, her rotting hand caressing Kuroko's face.

A laugh escapes him. "Fuck... You... Kuroko... You lied to everyone?" Even Akashi?

"I did not lie to you, Haizaki-kun." Kuroko replies. "I merely never corrected everyone's assumptions of my status."

He huffs. But says nothing.

"You cannot leave, Haizaki-kun."

He knows.

Not yet.

Because there was the penalty. And as the goddess of despair and misery, the demoness was not merciful. No god was.

Smirking ruefully, Haizaki stares as a hole opens between them. Both of them knew where it went. The former Gifted laughs bitterly. "Of course, it would be gods-damned Izanami-sama, you are Gifted with, out of all people, Tetsuya."

Kuroko says nothing.

"Then? Will I wander in the Yomi searching for the exit of Izanagi-sama?" He waves a hand at the hole, a rueful smile on his lips.

"No."

Kuroko is behind him before he can blink. The blow to his temple that follows is just as jarring.

"Haizaki-kun will be... normal."

He will be everything that the Kiseki no Sedai ever wanted to be. Stripped of all magical power and without his basketball, he would be a normal human. An untouched Ningen that would be out of the reach of the gods.

As his friend crumples, Kuroko Tetsuya stares as his goddess coos at the ash-haired boy, feeding off the anguish of his suffering. Half-moon crescents dig into his palms, his flesh as powerless against his nails as he feels as he watches Haizaki-kun writhe. He cannot forge miracles like his friends. He can only perform tragedies like Haizaki-kun's.

He sees his other friends in Haizaki's place and ruthlessly kills it immediately. He refuses.

Something drips from his hands.

Blue eyes lift up his bloody palms. Three cut into one hand while the other has only two.

One for each of his friends.

One year later, Kuroko Tetsuya thinks the same thing when he tears his soul into five, just before he signs a contract with his goddess. 

Because she can't take something he doesn't have.

Midorima knew when information was being withheld from him — it was only particularly annoying when Akashi did it for amusement, but nonetheless, he imagines this is how the other members of any team that had a Kiseki in it would feel when said genii were pulled into nostalgia of Teikou.

In any case, if there was one advantage of having such practice, it was that all of them had their own method.

Akashi and Kuroko did not answer what they did not want to, whether or not said person had the gall to try. Aomine would straight up tell nosy busybodies that it was none of their accursed business. Kise would re-direct the attention to something completely off-topic with the image of a ditzy blonde. Murasakibara, like the child he was, did not disclose anything without a bit of bribery and even then, it was rare he disclosed anything. Midorima, himself, merely brushed any attempts as noiseless chatter (Takao).

Secrets were valuable when a limited number of persons knew of it, much less of said secret's existence.

So, when rudely commanded to reveal 'what the fuck happened in the Second Task', Midorima was hardly one to bend. (Unless you were Akashi Seijuurou.)

He had self-preservation instincts.

His glare hardened as he stood in the entrance hall of their ship, decorated for intimidation while welcoming to oblivious guests, behind Akashi. Both of them are dressed in white sleeping robes himself in a light orange outer robe with his captain in a light blue one, Midorima spoke succinctly and to the point towards their audience. "We have already informed you, in the previous hour as well as the report we had sent to the Ministry, Prime Minister."

The elder man in the flat-screen frowned darkly. "I am aware, Midorima-kun."

Akashi Seijuurou swirls his crystal goblet of water with deliberate patience.

"Then why the call, Prime Minister?" The hand slows in mid-swirl. "Surely, it would not be that you are suspicious of us?"

Nakamura Juushirou did not flinch, his steel eyes cold. "Of course not. Merely collecting all of the facts, Akashi-kun."

"And all of them, regarding Mahoutokoro is in the report we have supplied. All of the students' locations are updated hourly in a monitoring system provided by Momoi-san as well as magic use levels. I invite the Ministry to investigate to their full capacity."

The captain sets his goblet down.

"And if there are no other concerns—"

With a wave of his hand, the redhead dismisses any chance of reply from the elder by hanging up. With a sigh, Akashi relaxes in his seat at the head of the table while he seats himself at his right. The silence is mild before it is broken.

"The Death Eater was responsible." Midorima states, because it is a fact. "A feat, considering he managed to curse Kuroko's broom."

"But not without consequences." Akashi hums. "Bartemius Crouch will find that his disguise will not be as effective in the future as well as a shortened lifespan."

"The Death Eater was the Ministry-sent officiator?"

Akashi shakes his head. "Junior. His son. Not as much of a leak as your suggestion provides but a substantial one nonetheless. Momoi says officially, he is supposed to be in Azkaban, Britain's version of Hanketsu. But a visit from his parents suggest an explanation of his escape. Though seeing the behavior of the father, it does not appear that he is aware of his progeny's whereabouts."

"So, he is tampering with the Tasks." Midorima paused. That explained why the rigged drawing of the dragons. How Durmstrang and Mahoutokoro had gotten the two more dangerous of the species rather than Hogwarts. "Why?"

Akashi smiles. "I imagine it would be under the orders of his master."

He is missing something. But what?

"What does this have to do with Nakamura?" And us?

That smile widens. "Everything."

He knows when information is being held from him and he knows that Akashi will not elaborate further. He does not push, even when Kuroko comes in. He does not protest when he is dismissed for them to talk.

Instead, alone in his quarters, he summons his magic circle.

True to his name, it is an electric green, inscribed with ancient runes. For the magic circle was the first array, after all.

But his and his friends' magic circles are not the ones described in the history books.

It is not that the circles are incomplete, due to a lack of internal control. It is not that they do not have the celestial body that symbolizes their souls. 

It is that they have one more.

Orbiting a planet known for violent storms and named after the Roman god of lightning, is a small moon, protecting and forever a waning crescent. No one has ever heard of two celestial bodies in one circle — because no one has two souls.

And Midorima doesn't.

He has a piece of one.

A sliver of a full moon that he had only seen once at the feet of Kuroko Tetsuya.

Everything, you say? Green eyes flicker to the darkened moon. Even this, then? This debt that they could never return?

Kuroko never told anyone explicitly. Not until they noticed that their shadow had disappeared.

Kise fiddled with memory he had stolen from the depths of Ministry on Christmas night, swirling in the flask it was encapsulated in.

Unlike the wistful nature of mind manipulation in England, their version scoped many fields.

Murasakibacchi could wipe yours with a single dose into your blood stream, much more effective than the consumed version. Midorimacchi could implant 'command memories' into any beast of his choosing, as most talented Tamers could, artificially strengthening their bonds. Aominecchi could momentarily blur his enemies' senses, short-circuiting their memories from recalling just what it was, though it was obvious if one connected the logic of the electrical impulses of the nervous system to ace's electricity. Akashicchi did not have an official offense with it, but with one glance, he knew you, your motives, desires and weaknesses - regardless if you knew it yourself.

Kise knew that it was Akashicchi was the most dangerous.

Because he didn't need Mind Manipulation. When he knew how it worked through Kurokocchi.

(Kise stared downward, his hands limp against his sides.

He ignored the ethereal goddess, spitting curses in his ears, gorgeous even in mid-roar.

Nothing could break his wide stare. At the waxing crescent that circled his golden Venus, fitting for the seductress of a goddess.

"Kise-kun."

He dared to not look up. He didn't deserve to.

He didn't question why Kichijoten did not leave him. He didn't ask why she didn't take his soul when he violated their contract. He didn't know that another person paid it for him. And he should have.

Another reason why he should have.

"Kise-kun."

A dainty hand curls over his. He is kneeling as his eyes trail to the hand. Unscarred and as white as porcelain.

Then he sees it.

Three half-moon crescents hidden in the palm.

He chokes. Knowing one of them is his.

"I-I'm so... I-I'm so s-sorry, K-Kurokocchi.")

He does not remember when Kurokocchi placed the Horcrux in his magic circle. None of them did.

They did not know he paid for their foolishness. Until he was revealed as a Gifted.

A Gifted who committed heinous crimes. Split his soul into five pieces. Blanching his golden robes into white. Darkening his uniform into black permanently.

A Defect that could only use the Darkest of magic. Forever.

Cursed because he gave up his sincere wish to use normal magic for them. Without hesitation.

Kise dropped the flask on the countertop of his lab before he broke something, sighing. 

Of course, they didn't let the persecution follow through.

In exchange for the leverage and the silence of the case, the Ministry had them by the necks.

But not for long.

Their Ministry may have not been willfully ignorant like the British, but it would be hard pressed to argue that they were better. Corrupt and thoroughly incensed with near jingoism levels of loyalty, the Japanese ones were extremists, only legally.

In Japan, they were surveillanced too closely. There were too many powerful people who believed in the Ministry's rhetoric, just waiting for them to slip up.

The tournament was their opening.

But the Japanese Ministry would not relinquish their prey so easily.

Hence, Headmaster Matsumoto Shinta, their retainer.

However, to have a house divided was not the ideal image for a prodigious school that was representative of their nation in the face of an international tournament.

Jingoism at it's finest.

Teikou had left it's imprint. But to say that Mahoutokoro had not done the same was an outright lie.

Kise smirked at the other flasks in his collection. Thousands of bottles, truths and ground-breaking lies that were uttered by important persons around the world — all at the tips of his fingers.

How will the international stage perform, he wonders, when they learn who stole the world's secrets?

Chapter Text

Last Year — Winter Cup, Japan

Kuroko was more than alarmed to hear Haizaki’s name out of Kagami’s lips.

Haizaki-kun was supposed to be a normal human with no association of the Kiseki outside of the same middle school. He personally made sure of it.

His fingers twitched, almost feeling the silvery essence of memories on his fingertips.

The phantom does not see the concerned glance from his current light. Instead, he snaps his fingers, freezing all non-magical beings. Whether it be forever or for a split second, was upon his whim.

Just like their minuscule lives.

Heterochromic eyes find him first. Then the others. But they don’t move.

Because they can’t see him yet. Nor did they deserve to.

The phantom reappears in the court before his former teammate, shadows curled around him as they assess the once-grey boy. Hungrily recognizing the escaped prey, he ignores the eerie giggles of delight. So, even without them, Haizaki-kun still lived with misery - his goddess had chosen well.

Didn't they all?

A crease appears over his forehead. The conditioning was tampered with. Only one being had the power to do such a thing.

His eyes meet her sole sunset eye, coy and playful at being discovered.

“You deprived me of my delicious punishment for your precious little friends, little one. You were foolish as to think that I would have just let this one be ignorant for all his life.” His goddess coos, a black skeletal hand cradling her half-eaten face.

“Of course not, Izanami-sama.” Kuroko hums to her as he stares one of the shadow tendrils stroke Haizaki’s cheek almost tenderly. But he knew better than anyone that was a flame licking the roast over hellfire. Cornflower eyes flicker at her, cold and dangerously steely. “How could you pass up a weapon to insult your replacement?”

The goddess bristled but said nothing.

For it was true.

She is not forgiving. She is vengeance, malice, and the epitome of all that dwelled under the Earth.

Therefore, she is not below in manipulating Haizaki's memories. Converting the boy's misery to a target. A target he hated in basketball. And in magic, since the blonde's goddess was similar to his own. 

Despite seniority, the creed of Teikou and Mahoutokoro were the same.

The strong, those who brought forth victory, were all that mattered.

It is child's play for the goddess to implant the nudge. For the seed was already there. The envy that the Goddess of Misery established her contract with the young Haizaki. That would have been broken if he had not given up the terms first. It was was practically hand-delivered to her.

The newest weapon to attack Kichijoten.

But they all knew who it was truly towards, the god who left her in the Underworld, centuries ago.

A musical laugh takes them from their conversation as Kise walks over, eyes cold with the beauty of his goddess aloft by his side, painted lips sneering.

“Izanami-sama.” The lilt in Kichijoten’s voice was icy, as she nodded to her betters. Proper propensity of the consort before the first wife, even if the latter was dead.

Blue eyes, turquoise yet multicolored like opals, raked over to the blue Tasai. “It’s been a while, boya.”

Topazes of her own Tasai eye her, gaze just as fierce. “We talked about this, bitch. Paws and claws off.” All my friends.

The blonde goddess shrugged, but did not protest, twirling her unlit pipe.

Dangerous things were done with that legendary pipe. The Imperius Curse was nothing in comparison to the seduction of the goddess of beauty, as most forget the madness associated with the allure.

And how easily it is blanketed with sanity.

She was the only woman that managed to seduce the father of the sun, moon and storms — a goddess whose whispers comforted a male deity from his otherworldly wife. To whom he was loyal to despite his hatred for.

Until the goddess of beauty.

It was rather a shame that her Tasai was all that as well and more.

“Kichijoten-sama.” Kuroko nods. “Please forgive Kise-kun for his disrespect. But please do not interfere. These are ningen matters. Gods have no place here.”

“Oh?” The goddess closes one eye, mocking. “And your goddess does, boya?”

Watch it, bitch.

“Of course not.” Kuroko answers, surprising the consort. “Even without Izanami-sama’s interference, it is not out of the ordinary that Haizaki-kun, a former Tasai in his own right would be able to resist my magic. She merely spend up my plans. I did not anticipate for her to be so impatient with you to make Kise-kun unlock his Perfect Copy so soon.”

Kise gaped at his mentor while perfumed hands above them, clapped as red lips widened in a grin.

“A soulless boy moving goddesses to his whim like pieces of shogi?” Ice chips a shade lighter than the phantom’s eyes glowed. “Oh, I like you, boya.”

Kuroko did not dignify the tease with an answer.

Instead, he allowed the shadows to envelope his exit, aware of the multicolored gazes on his form as the noise of the ningen basketball world resumed — none the wiser of what took place.

He manipulated his goddess’ and Kise-kun’s to save Haizaki-kun some dignity.

His basketball.

Because he was going to give it to his fragments — what was one more?

He stares at the five crescent moons that are in his hands yet not.

It’s not like it was his first time manipulating gods to his whim.

'It’s not out of the question for you guys who remain to end up in a more painful situation than me. Even if I was forcefully removed, it may be that I got the lucky draw in this, Tetsuya.'

Haizaki’s last words after throwing his shoes to the furnace echoed with the phantom, coy and seductive in their misery. 

Fitting. Seeing how all of them were subsequently dragged to that anyway.

Lucky draw?

Kuroko feels his lips twitch in the urge to smile as he watches the match. Aware of how it will all end.

Ironic, that it was the Tasai of Misery and Unhappiness was the lucky one.

Murasakibara hums at his current predicament.

He knows that this is a matter that is supposed to be reported to Aka-chin — most, if not, all things are but often, he is bearer of old news. But Aka-chin never stopped him despite it.

But for this, he does not have to do it right away. Probably.

Mura-chin. Uke Mochi yawns. That manager of yours, can’t you leave it to her?

It was not a bad suggestion. Murasakibara concedes, glancing at the inflamed crucible over the sink of one of his lab station. Almost done. But it was technically under his authorization. It trespassed into his territory. He would be passing it off if he informed Sat-chin. Plus, Aka-chin was the highest authority here.

Clicking his tongue, he decides to keep it to himself for now — he has other priorities.

Replenishing a new set of on-hand explosives for Kuro-chin as well as the back-order for Mine-chin, having used up even his extra stock last month. Honestly, it was always the almost lethal poisons that were dried up the fastest. Unsurprising, considering — but still these things took time and accurate techniques to fulfill damn it all.

He removes the crucible and shuts off the gas in one movement, pouring the now pale blue powder into a pestle, giving it a moment to cool.

In his patience, a presence makes themselves known in his lab.

It is Mine-chin.

“Murasakibara.” He greets with a nod. The ace is armed with his twin blades — just like his god. No one questions it. Like no one questions his long sleeves, hiding poisons and bolts of silk alike. They had no authorization to. “What do you know of this ‘Lord Voldyshorts’?”

Atsushi blinks at the sudden question. “Shouldn’t you be asking Kuro-chin…?”

“He’s with Akashi and Midorima.”

Ah.

“Kise-chin?” Or even Sat-chin? Why was Mine-chin asking him, of all people? Maybe it was Mine-chin who hit his head?

“Kise is in one of his moods and Satsuki’s MIA.”

So, that left him.

Not that he was particularly offended. He was just like Mine-chin, after all.

He left the heavy thinking to those who were qualified and went from there. It did not imply that he was idiotic like Mine-chin, but merely unbothered with it. He recognized a better when he saw one now.

“I know what you do, Mine-chin. Outside of what everyone knows, the people here do not talk about him generally. Out of fear.” The giant answers neutrally, as Aomine pulls a stool under him, leaning against the table between them as he replies with an annoyed nod.

“Cowards.” The Tasai of Warriors sneers but does not elaborate. He shrugs.

If they wanted to be weaklings, that was their problem. Besides, Mine-chin was fast enough to dodge the most lethal curse known to the British, he had a right to the ego.

“But if you are asking me about this Moldy-character for more details…” He shrugs. He never bothered.

“Tch.” Mine-chin clicks his tongue, but is unsurprised. “I hate this waiting around.”

He picks up the mortar and begins to grind the powder. “Aka-chin said we have no choice.”

“I know what he said.” Aomine growls, not mad but clearly frustrated. “But what the fuck would that half-blood want with us anyway? Why tamper with the tournament when he can just kill that Should-Have-Died?”

Murasakibara ponders it for a moment.

Well, it was Mine-chin’s ego speaking, in his assumption that this Moldy-character had business with them in the first place. Most people who had magical business with them generally did not live and there was no tie to Moldy outside of that scrawny insect that he had a literal soul fragment attached to.

Of all the teenagers to link himself to with his soul, Murasakibara could not understand the logic in choosing the reckless boy armed with only a near useless chopstick to his name but then again, he had one to a phantom.

So, who was he to judge on such things?

But Mine-chin’s second question was warranted.

Why tamper with the tournament?

If this Lord wanted it canceled, he had all the time to do it before it even started when he found out from that corpse they had found in the Ministry. And if he wanted to off the boy, well… the One Who Lived would have needed a new nickname.

(Murasakibara sympathized. He didn't like their name of Kiseki no Sedai either. The public were fucking dumb.)

The disguised Death Eater was around the Hogwarts’ Seeker more than any other professor. With one twist of the cervical spine, the numbers between the teams would have been even. Again.

So, why only tamper?

…oh.

“Why would you interfere with someone's life, Mine-chin?” He asks, resuming his task.

“What?” Aomine stares at him, perplexed.

“Why would you tamper with someone, who holds a fragment of your soul?” He repeats, mildly annoyed at the need to repeat himself. “Why would you play with your food, instead of killing it? Why would you let it happen when you can do something else?”

Mine-chin is not stupid. Even though he is an idiot.

Sapphires narrow. “He needs that Hogwarts’ brat alive. Why?”

Because he’s useful. Hachiman grins. Because he needs him. For now.

Aomine snorts but does not refute the god's conclusion while Murasakibara hums, mauve eyes meeting the ace’s. “Mine-chin is so dumb.”

“Shut it.” Mine-chin retorts, irritably. “This is Tetsu, Akashi and Midorima’s thing. Not ours.”

“Mhm.” The giant acknowledges. “Then, I’ll tell Mine-chin.” Since, as you put it, it is technically our thing.

“Tell me what?”

He waves a hand out, snapping his fingers when he sees the brief confusion in the ace’s face at the large glass display case with a single beetle inside, scurrying with panicked jitters. Too panicked to be animal. With a snap of his fingers, a familiar head of platinum ringlets and cat glasses make the former beetle recognizable.

“I found a trespasser.” The Master of Alchemy purrs, his robes dragging behind as he and Aomine come before the case, a small grin gracing the Master of Defence Against the Dark Arts’ lips. “And as the Tasai of Imperial Heaven’s Guard, it would be in your authority, Mine-chin, no?”

And Aka-chin wouldn’t mind if they played a bit.

Since their hosts had so graciously played with them, wouldn’t it be fair to return the gesture?

Like the ending of the First Task, there were injuries abound. But this time, that included Mahoutokoro.

Harry stared with no small amount of disbelief, his heart still racing at the appearance of Kuroko Tetsuya. Unlike his injuries, the other Seeker was hurt more superficially yet fatal. (Not to mention, Krum fashioned a broken arm.) While his bruised ribs were nothing to scoff at, the phantom had an even paler than usual visage attributed to adequate blood loss - hands and forehead bandaged to make him appear almost fragile to the touch.

If he did not experience the Tasks firsthand, he would have been hard pressed to believe that he was the same Seeker that shed blood, unhesitatingly and unflinchingly, for the Golden Snitch.

In vain.

"Good afternoon, Potter-kun."

Harry blinked before coming back to himself, replying lamely with a small grumble. "A'fternoon."

Nodding and not addressing his impolite greeting, Kuroko seated himself on one of the beds. "How are you, Potter-kun?"

"I am fine." As fine as any Seeker could be. He thought morosely.

Even though he didn't regret saving Krum, he still didn't catch the Snitch, letting down his team. Even though Cedric had said that it was not his fault, it was somehow worse to see the fuming Flint and Montague over their added points. Because even though no one said it, all of the players of Quidditch knew it for what it was. Pity points.

He almost rather had them shout insults at his nonexistent ego for fame. Almost.

Shrugging with a fake grin that he forced himself to smile, he continued. "A bit peaky, though, considering... but fine. And you?"

"I am doing well." Kuroko answers monotonously, eyes trailing to his bandaged hand. "I do not heal well."

Harry blinks at this information before his eyes widen in realization.

It had been a week since the Second Task had come to a conclusion yet the bandages on Kuroko Tetsuya were freshly bled through, red and spotty. Even his ribs were healing nicely, having turned a healing yellow, today the day that Madame Pomfrey had deemed his bones were healed enough to escape their wrappings. 

"Why not?"

The words come out harsher than he meant it to.

Was this a consequence of dabbling in the Dark Arts? Did that deem that Voldemort's weakness was physical harm rather than magical means as well? How much Dark Arts did Kuroko do to have several superficial cuts be so fatal? That his human body forgot how to do what was inherent to all the living, to heal properly?

Harry does not know what to expect from Kuroko Tetsuya.

Ever since the first class, the Seeker's classes remained just as jarring. Strangely enough, it was not the demonstrations of the boundaries that are pushed in the Dark Arts, how the harm of the Dark Magic may not be evident at first and how the harm may not always be physical or even magical in media — no, Kuroko Tetsuya showed something else that scared Harry Potter.

Something he, more than usual acquaintance of death, saw with clarity.

He remembers it vividly.

It begins with simply, as most things do.

It takes place shortly before their scuffle on the topic of Dueling. Harry, having been dragged to the class by Hermione with Ron as his fellow prisoner, finds himself in the Mahoutokoro classroom. Akashi, is at the very front, a handful of jade beads in hand as he lectures, pausing at their sudden intrusion. With a curt explanation from Hermione and a slip signed by McGonagall, they take the seats in the back as the captain resumes the lecture.

Unlike the attentive Hermione, who hangs on Akashi's every word, Harry yawns, tired from his conversation with Padfoot a few nights ago. When a soft question throws him out of his thoughts so hard, he nearly punches himself in the face, startled.

"What are the three Unforgivable Curses?"

It is not the question that startles him. It is the sincere, innocent and innocuous nature that it is asked.

Because it is asked by an innocent. A child who cannot be older than five stands where Kuroko Tetsuya is supposed to be. He is small, baby fat rounding his cheeks as soft aqua hair falls over his forehead. But it's his eyes that jade Harry, they are too old — eyes that have seen too much.

He knows those eyes.

"K-Kuroko?" He chokes out. Ron and Hermione are gaping right with him along with any Hogwarts people, while the Mahoutokoro students don't even flinch. What the bloody hell are these Japanese students? Is it normal to see de-aged cohorts there?!

Even some of the Durmstrang students are staring.

The child nods, rising an eyebrow. "I asked you all a question."

Jarring them from their shrunken cohort, Hermione supplies the answer. "We had reviewed it earlier in the semester in Defence Against the Dark Arts. They are the three curses that will earn you a life sentence at Azkaban. And for that reason, they are called 'Unforgivable.'"

Kuroko says something that is the stuff of his other best friend's nightmares. "Wrong."

(Harry sees Hermione's flinch and her subsequent glare at Ron's grin. Ginny sends a sympathetic look to her after sending a dirty look at her brother, effectively killing his amusement.)

"The Unforgivable Curses are not called unforgivable for that." The small voice of the phantom seeps into the room, the silence stifling as he pauses. "They are unforgivable because in your society, the consequences of them are sinful and taboo. The Dark Arts are exactly that. What society perceives to be unforgivable and places under it's label. But let me ask you this. Is it so unforgivable when the the Killing Curse is used on someone who wishes to die?"

A wand appears in the child's hand, too large for his little fingers — almost as white as his skin. Like human bones.

They all know what it looks like because of these classes.

"I am not saying that taking a life is a virtuous feat. But taking a life is more than just murder, self-defence and outright slaughter." It is so inherently wrong to hear it from a child. But Kuroko continues to conjure a vivid picture, painting it with them captive in the morbid strokes. "When you are so desperate for salvation, when taking your life is impossible, when you are begging to be released from your suffering; the unforgivable is suddenly the most merciful."

"And of the Torture Curse?!" Harry snaps his head to the quivering voice, shaking so badly he couldn't recognize it at first.

It's Neville. "How will you justify that?" How can you justify it?

The Seeker regards him cooly. "I will not. But you will."

Harry stares at him.

What.

"Have you ever felt hatred, Longbottom-kun?"

The question throws off Neville just as much as it does Harry. "Y-Yes?"

(Akashi watches coolly, hand framing his golden eye.

Hatred. He ponders before a smirk colors his lips, gaze returning to his phantom. Such an inadequate word.)

"So much that you wanted them to suffer?" Kuroko continues, monotonous and detached. It grates at Harry's nerves. Because there is no malice. Mere factual inquiry. 

The silence answers better than any words Neville can conjure.

"So overwhelmingly that you want to watch them writhe and beg before you. Feel just as hurt as you were. Cry as many tears as you did. Satisfy the voice that whispers in your lowest moments to exact your pound of flesh." Kuroko paints as the overwhelming silence hangs over them, none dare to break.

For it is true.

How many times does he wake up in cold sweat because of Voldemort? How many times has he raged that if his mother and father had not died, he wouldn't have grown up with Dursleys? That Sirius wouldn't have to hide that he loved and cared for him, living as a fugitive? That everyone would just stop staring at him for living, when all he wanted was to die with his parents?

"Recall the words I have forewarned you all." Kuroko Tetsuya whispers. "For it is not the curse that is unforgivable, it is you."

In one lesson, Kuroko Tetsuya unnerves them with words. He does not demonstrate the Curses like Moody. He does not regale them in feats of horrifying nature. He does not awe them with the accomplishments that magic can do.

Harry realizes that night.

Why the Ministry and the professors were so scared of Kuroko Tetsuya and his friends were not because they are powerful. It is not because they were young and had the potential for more. It is not even because they are so accomplished.

No, it is because they show them how horrifying they can be. With mere words.

"Kuroko?"

The call for the shadow takes Harry from his memories, startled to see that the other side of his conversation was no longer present. Instead, Midorima stands by the doors, eyes scanning for his friend classmate. He eyes Harry like one does with a speck of dust on the floor before walking off.

But not before answering his question.

"Kuroko does not heal well for exactly why you suspect, Harry Potter." Fanned lashes blink slow as bandaged fingers linger at the door frame of the Healing Ward, his words echoing. "The closer to death, the stronger the Gifted of the Goddess of the Netherworld is."

Harry blinks at the sound logic.

"So, you may hold back any transgressions of using the Dark Arts, Potter." Midorima sneers, making the anger in Harry's belly curl. "You will not end up like us. Not even if you tried. For that, look to your parents' murderer."

Harry can't even answer as he leaves, leaving him all alone with his traitorous thoughts.

How did they know what Voldemort looked like?

Chapter Text

Ludo Bagman has disappeared. Mind, due to his small position in the Ministry, it was not noticed right away. Like Rita Skeeter, who was known for her momentary silences that were soon followed by a formerly impossible scoop.

But after a week of silence, it was impossible to put off.

A propagandist of the Daily Prophet and a somewhat notable individual of the Ministry were worth more than one would have believed in the time of Fudge.

Family members were concerned, and had brought in the Ministry, to which lead to their own investigation beginning to where all the drama seemed to originate since the enrollment of a certain green-eyed boy. Wonder who.

The entourage was welcomed with varying degrees of politeness. When Cornelius Fudge arrived, he was accompanied by a short woman dressed to the buttons in pink and a stern dark-skinned man in blue robes. They were welcomed first by the three Headmasters present on the school grounds, present students of Mahoutokoro and Durmstrang in their uniforms with Hogwarts, expressions as cold as the dew of the February morning.

It was still so strongly winter, as the freezing temperatures still held them captive — yet as Fudge greeted Dumbledore with a strained smile, anyone with the slightest inkling would have noted the tension undertone.

“Cornelius.” Matsumoto greets the Minister after Karkaroff, grey eyes cold but words are polite enough. By his side, Momoi smiles softly, her wand clipped to her side. “How kind of you, to come all this way to greet us.”

Fudge, despite his best efforts, flinches.

(Kuroko notes the flash of a darkened expression on the pink witch before it smoothes into a wide grin.

He taps his light, grabbing his attention before nodding at the witch.

Eyeing them, Aomine makes an about face. Well then. How about that.

He looks at his shadow who huffs.)

Political divide or not, on foreign soil — the Kiseki and their Headmaster were, first and foremost, Japanese. And the insult that Fudge had not come when they arrived to greet, at the very least, Matsumoto, as a former diplomat, was not unnoticed. Especially when it had to be Dumbledore who had conveyed the Minister’s apologies for being absent in the beginning of the year — yet was free enough to be in attendance to the World Cup.

He may not have much love for his students, but they all understood that this insult was towards their nation and government. United, they stand, for the moment.

In attempt to diffuse, Momoi steps in. “Yes, we understand how busy the Minister must be. Failing to catch Sirius Black, Bertha Jorkins missing, the Death Eaters at the World Cup, and the possibility of your so-called Dark Lord coming back… you all must have your hands full.”

Or not.

(“Hey, Murasakibacchi! Look! That pink old lady is turning into your hair color!”

“Kise-chin. That’s Aka-chin’s.”

“Now, it’s Akashicchi’s! But look, look! It’s going back to yours now!”

“Huh.” So it was.

The blonde stared, awed before stage-whispering. “What do you think will make her turn into Midorimacchi’s hair?”

“Will the two of you shut up?!” Midorima hisses as Akashi laughs.)

A sudden silence outside of the air of mirth in a certain colorful team envelopes as Snape resists the urge to look to the heavens and demand why was this particular suffering his own. But small blessings equated that the only ones that are present were the Heads of the Houses, Headmasters, and the Teams along with Crouch Sr. With the blessing though, it also meant that Potter was here for all of it.

Damn it all.

Damn the Dark Lord. Damn Harry Potter. And damn Matsumoto for his troublesome brats.

Honestly, at least, Potter and Weasley didn’t purposely say words that prompted a well-deserved slap.

Smile on the verge of breaking with gritted teeth, Fudge held his composure. "Matsumoto, I see you have taught your students... well. It has been a while, friend."

The Headmaster of Mahoutokoro hums but does not acknowledge the term.

Luckily, Karkaroff had enough of being ignored. "So, what brings the esteemed Minister for Magic to Hogwarts?"

"Indeed, what occasion would bring the Senior Undersecretary, an Auror, and the Minister himself to the steps of Hogwarts? Surely, the results of the Second Task were not serious enough to warrant such an entourage?" Matsumoto asked, grey eyes steely but genuine in their curiosity.

Fudge opens his mouth to address his business but a soft but prompt 'ahem' cuts him off.

"Minister. Perhaps, this conversation should be taken elsewhere, more private. And away from such... youths."

Only several caught the small glance to the students, who did not look like they were paying attention anymore outside of the Hogwarts ensemble. The Kiseki were the midst of their own conversation, while Krum looked like he did not want to be there as the rest of his team hung in silent agreement. The Hogwarts team were wide awake, Harry staring at the Kiseki with a mixture of awe and fascination.

Momoi smiles widely, near mirroring the other pink woman's grin as she addresses Matsumoto. "Please do not mind us. We are not the ones who are misplaced, after all. We shall leave you to your conversation with your approval, Headmaster.

Nodding his consent, the students do as they are told. As far as they know.

Kuroko stared back at the crystalline waters, an impossibly clear turquoise, holding a baseball. It was out of place, but no one was here at the beach yet as he threw the ball towards the boulders that dotted the shores once again, eyeing his wrist and the trajectory of his throw. He needed to practice his newly christened Ignite Pass.

So concentrated, that he had forgotten to take in consideration of his strength.

Thud.

“Ah.” The Teikou phantom hummed.

There was a slight indentation. In the rock.

“Where the hell did Tetsu go? Keh, as invisible as ever.” Turning, Kuroko found his light coming down to their reserved beach — as expected of Teikou, only the best for the best — yawning but dressed like he did in shorts and a T-shirt for easy movements. The slight sheen on his tanned skin told him that he had not managed to sneak past Momoi to forgo the sunscreen as he was also similarly attacked.

Momoi-san was so kind.

“Good morning, Aomine-kun.”

“Gods fucking—! Tetsu!” The ace growled, hand over his pounding heart as he climbed over the boulders to stand next to him.

Kuroko tilted his head, unfazed. “Aomine-kun is late.”

Mumbling an apology before grinning widely, the ace placed an arm over him, making the phantom immediately suspicious. “Ne, Tetsu. You’ve been out here for a bit, see any babes—“

“I am not perverse like Aomine-kun. And this beach is reserved for Teikou students only.”

Before Aomine can retort, a loud voice cut in, followed by the flip-flopping of familiar steps as Kise butted in from the top of the boulders, Murasakibara behind him. “Stop corrupting Kurokocchi with your perverted ways, Aominecchi!”

Annoyed immediately at the challenge, the ace made his way over. “Ha? Like you’re one to talk, Kise! You’re the one who wanted Tetsu to pose for—“

Kuroko decided to sidestep the conversation and go over to his tallest friend, having also the sanity-preservation to move to the shores, a large lollipop in hand.

“Good morning, Murasakibara-kun.”

“Kuro-chin~ Good morning~”

“What brings Murasakibara-kun here this morning?” As far as he recalled, the giant was exploring the food court in their hotel, with the endless complementary dessert menu.

“Hm? Saa~ Just felt like this is the place to be.”

Rising a brow at the wording, Kuroko was about to reply when a yelp took their attention from the open sea to find Midorima-kun standing over the now-paused argument turned brawl between his best friend and Kise-kun. “Did you two forget that we have training in an hour? Because since you have so much energy, I can always request more drills for you from Akashi.”

“Eep! Spare us, Midorimacchi!”

“Like hell, you stupid glasses!” Aomine growls before staring at the object in Midorima’s hand. “And why the fuck do you have a machete?!”

“Language, Aomine.” Akashi arrives, looking at all of them before rising a brow at Aomine's question. “And you should know by now that the strange items Midorima carries are his lucky items.”

“Yeah but not in Hawaii!” The ganguro reasons as if going on an international school trip warranted enough reason to not have a strange lucky item in hand. What a sign of a true non-believer.

“Do they even air Oha-Asa over here?” Kise questioned, all of having gathered at the shore now, feet cool in the waters. Kuroko eyes the baseball in his hand.

“This matters to me how— Oof!”

“Do not be rude, Aomine-kun.”

“Idiots. Momoi sends me the recordings. I cannot train and play basketball without my lucky item.”  Obviously.

“Waa~ Sat-chin is so nice~ Unlike Mido-chin.”

“The term is tsundere, Atsushi.”

“I am not—!”

“Yes. You are, you weirdo.” Midorima-kun’s eye began to twitch at Aomine-kun’s deadpan. Kuroko kneels into the water.

SPLASH.

Everyone stares at the now-soaked Midorima, aghast with glasses askew before turning to Kuroko.

"Ah."

The laughter begins with Aomine and Kise, who begin to splash the tsundere. And with complete maturity, the sharp-shooter retaliates, only to smack the lolly from Murasakibara's grasp (Kuroko says nothing at the well-aimed maneuvering of Akashi-kun to hit the giant. He didn't see anything.). Within the minute, all six of them are splashing one another in waist-level waters, Akashi shoving a indignant Midorima from Murasakibara's shoulders as the green-haired vice captain fell from a yelling Aomine from below. Kise is the referee, grinning as he declares Akashi the winner of the first round.

"How peaceful."

Her voice cuts in, as Kuroko watches his friends play, suddenly afar, three years ago at Hawaii in his memories — suddenly older and in his Mahoutokoro robes. His goddess floats in his dream, as he stands on the ocean, her shadows tangible.

"Is this your doing, Izanami-sama?"

"But, of course, little one. You need reminding."

Kuroko quirks an eyebrow as she mirrors him, with a small laugh. "You can have fun even when you are on business, might as well enjoy it while you are here."

"We are here out of blackmail for my crime of creating Horcruxes, breaking my contract with you, and possibly being exposed to the international community as threats to the fragile peace of society."

"But it does not mean you can't have fun in the meanwhile, Tetsuya." She admonishes, waving a hand as his friends and the ocean disappear — replaced with them being in the Yomi. "And after that little talk with that spineless Minister, you have all the cards, little one. These Englishmen do not even know that they protect a sliver of their enemy, instead they deny his existence like little children who cling to their mother's skirts."

"And our Japanese descendants ship their 'threats' to other waters to deal with to stall for time to consolidate a plan to counter them." The mortal retorts. "After boasting how gifted they were to have such a generation of powerful Tasai, and raising them up in pedestals — abandoning them when they discover the Tasai of the goddess of worst disaster of Magical history had been reborn, exposed after rescuing their proud Kiseki no Sedai."

A pause as Kuroko stares into the abyss. "Tell me, Izanami-sama. Which one is worse? The one who is so blind to the threat or the one who sees too clearly of every threat?"

She twists her skeletal hand, bones snapping as the goddess hums with a low rattling in her throat.

"The matter here, little one, is not which is worse. But rather, which one will collapse first?"

Kuroko grins in his sleep, reflecting her maddening smile.

So, why not have fun in dancing in the destruction?

Suitably, hours later, Kuroko is standing with his v comfortable pillow in hugging status beside a bed-ragged Akashi-kun (who is unfairly well-kept) because Murasakibara-kun and Aomine-kun found it appropriate to inform them of the uninvited guest that was Rita Skeeter. Kise and Midorima were just as annoyed to be awakened, the former in silk robes and the latter with an appropriately raised blindfold to display visible murder.

The two most troublesome, however, were pleased with themselves. Unusually.

That is until Kuroko met disapproving eyes at his light as Akashi did the same to their giant. They had the decency to shrink in apology. After all, just because they knew about it, didn't mean that they enjoyed the nightly disturbance.

"... Atsushi, Daiki. Care to explain why I had awakened to find our chambers where walled off from the rest of the dormitories?"

Just like they had been since the Minister of Magic had landed on Hogwarts' grounds. But technicalities.

If any of them were remotely sane, they may have given some attention to the muted screaming woman in the clear box, eyes seeing something that were in the recesses of her own mind. Unfortunately, none of them had such claims.

Aomine-kun points it like a broken toy in the corner. "Didn't want want anyone finding her. Or any of them to squeal to the old man. You saw how touchy they were over the loss of this reporter. Imagine how they would be if they found her half-doped up in Murasakibara's poisons. They might actually make us be responsible for our actions."

Might.

Kise snickers.

"As if." Midorima scoffs, fingers twisting. "Politics."

Kise shrugs indifferently, having resolved his initial mirth. "I have no interest in their politics when we have Nakamura on our asses too. It's not our job to fix theirs when we can't even fix ours."

Kuroko silently adds his agreement.

Barty Crouch Sr.'s sudden disappearance, then reappearance with a hallucinating fit after encountering Viktor Krum and Harry Potter, who were out on the grounds past curfew, demanding deliriously for the audience of Dumbledore concerning Bertha Jorkins and the mutterings of the 'Dark Lord' was ill-timed. With Cornelius in the school along with his entourage, the ramblings of a mad man plus the downtrodden reputation of a widowed man with a Death Eater son, it was not that hard to supply into the narrative.

No matter how true the ramblings may have been.

The words of seven Gifted, no matter how mature, would have only exacerbated the situation.

Not to mention the suspicious looks that the phantom had seen Potter-kun send to him and his friends. The midnight conversations with that 'Padfoot' godfather of his only seemed to fuel his international cohort's paranoia. Not to mention their continuous suspicion of Snape yet Moody (the actual Death Eater in disguise) continuously dances in front of them with blissful ignorance.

Willful blindness. Kuroko muses.

"In any case, you do realize that we cannot have her here much longer." Akashi drawls, as they all shift their attention to the woman who is now beginning to twitch erratically. Murasakibara's tongue clicks.

A new side effect.

Murasakibara-kun pouts. "I was just starting her on some experimental trials, Aka-chin."

His light looks similarly annoyed. "Two more days. Then we'll give her back."

He and Murasakibara had plans for this guinea pig, damn it.

Midorima snorts. "Intact?"

Kise grins devilishly. "Never. We have a reputation, Midorimacchi."

Kuroko just wants to sleep properly.

But there was no rest for the wicked, was there?

May 24th is the day which the Teams are gathered for the final time before the dawn of the Third Task, before a pre-insane Crouch Sr accompanied by their respective Headmaster.

The Third Task was the most daunting of all, and therefore, with the least amount of provided information.

It was to take place at the Quidditch pitch, a maze to be to grown so high that flight on their brooms may be a hinderance more than an advantage since they were immediately denied the obvious solution to fly overhead and navigate the maze. Like rats trapped in an experiment, they were only allowed movements within the confines of their prison. The challenges within even more daunting than the ones that they could fight back against (and not to mention, each other), and each one of the Headmasters allusion more than just the creatures allowed to roam.

Clearly, this one was more personalized than the team-emphasized Second Task and the opening taste of the First, the Third was tailored for failure almost.

And since he was already here, the Minister of Magic stayed for the final festivity for the year.

(With contradicting results.

If breakfast with the Miracles and their touchy Headmaster were any indication. Or the stony, awkward one with Durmstrang. And if one was especially lucky, the two-teamed lucky breakfast that Akashi and Krum played off how 'their' Ministry was obviously more lenient. And would not have the cowardice to hide from clear threats.

Nope. Not them.)

But alas, the Ministry was not entirely defanged. As that came in the form a formidable and troublesome witch, by the name of Dolores Umbridge.

For behind a powerful man was a dangerous woman.

Unfortunately, behind the Kiseki no Sedai was their manager. And she was more than just a mere woman.

"How dangerous. To allow all of you to come to our country without proper supervision." Umbridge eyes in the classroom, interrupting. During Momoi's lecture because she is the only one who will not promptly tell her to fuck the hell off (whether it be bodily or verbally) outside of Kuroko, in front of the day that the Ministry personnel happen to be visiting. And all of her boys were busy.

The pink witch frowns condescendingly. "One would almost think that they don't care about you, dearies."

Better to neglect upright than to fake sincerity. Her god snaps icily while Momoi waves it aside.

"Yes, I can see how you may perceive it to be neglectful on behalf of our Ministry, Madam Umbridge." Momoi replies diplomatically. "Just how you may see how we perceive how neglectful you are of your own students. Depriving them the freedom of any knowledge of the Dark Arts."

More than one person flinches at the words. None more than Umbridge.

"T-The Dark Arts."

"Yes," Momoi keeps her voice, melodic and smooth. This is her classroom. Her students are loyal and know better. "Take for example, the man you all seem to fear so much. A mere half-blood like yourself, who has only inherited his mother's Magical blood as you say here, a foil of your own history, being a daughter of a janitorial wizard. And yet, your purebloods parade after him in his crusade against his Muggle father — whom was the object of his mother's infatuation. You fear a man with a clear inferiority complex and fear of death. A coward."

The silence is overwhelming. The pink witch is frozen in a purpling grimace while Fudge looks like he has been drained of blood with how pale he is. Her students stare on, unfazed — this is information they all knew, having been briefed before coming, all Mahoutokoro.

Know thy enemy and thyself.

"Do not fret. I have not informed anyone of Hogwarts of this private information, it was obtained from... unapproved methods, after all."

"...Unapproved?"

Momoi grins. "Nothing you are required to know of, Mr. Shacklebolt."

Her expression glaciates, however, when she turns to Fudge. "Therefore, before you hide behind the skirts of your Undersecretary, Minister of Magic. Be aware, that I am an individual that has this intimate information on your precious and imaginative Dark Lord. Imagine, I dare you, the information I have on you and all of your staff. Any. Of. Them. Any weapon you have, whether it be her or your army of Dementors, you have it because I have allowed you to believe to have it. Not the other way around."

And with a twist of her heel, she dismisses the class.

Chapter Text

All three schools were due for a trip to Hogsmeade.

Reasons varying from person to person, really.

The Third Task. Studies. The tournament, in general. A missing reporter and known gambler. The pressure of needing to win previously mentioned tournament. The questionable security of the Ministry of Magic. The shattered remains of a reputation of lies. The possibility of dying by the hands of the Dark Lord.

Or by six Japanese students.

Whichever one came first.

Take your pick.

(Thank you, Hermione, for that very much needed information that fucking dying in this bullshit of a tournament was a tragedy but not a crime.

Harry blinks before groaning into his hands.

Clearly, he was too invested in Momoi's classes, which clearly defined that the death of persons under legal age in Japan was v much a crime, circumstances be damned.

Why was his country's government so messed up.)

Harry, while at Hogsmeade for more than just one of the above, also had an appointment to keep with godfather, Sirius Black — wrongly accused of a crime last year due to the actions of a not-actually-dead-and-actual-criminal Peter Pettigrew.

Speaking to his godfather of recent events, it made him feel better being in this mess — the tournament, Crouch's disappearance, Winky's odd behavior at the World Cup, Moody's searching of Snape's office, Karkaroff's audience with Snape, not to mention, the Japanese Team's odd behavior.

While the British Chosen One went to unofficial therapy that was to-be-discontinued in one book in the form of his godfather/former-out-for-his-blood murderer, the Kiseki opted for the interior design of the grand hall instead, uniformed in robes and with their Prime Minister's image projected opposite. Matsumoto was seated at the head of the table, as the senior, with his students taking the flanking seats.

It did not take long for the front of a status report to fall.

"Matsumoto. Everyone." The Prime Minister greeted, not bothering with posturing. "The British?"

Momoi dutifully opened her case file as a chart of the hierarchy of the British Ministry replaced the Prime Minister, who was reduced to a small window in the corner.

"The figurehead, Fudge-san, is a coward." Momoi begins, her voice clipped. "Despite my announcements on Friday, the Minister has yet to provide with an answer, militarily or officially. I had made sure to inform his Madam Undersecretary as unqualified she is, of just what cards we had in our hands."

"Through Shacklebolt," Midorima cuts in, as the screen narrows on a set of persons. Aurors, more importantly all under Rufus Scrimgeour. "We are assured that these individuals are also aware. Without the pressure of needing to uphold pretense of safety and security, these Aurors are similar to our own system of the Jieitai, only less organized. It is possible but unlikely that they will act on this information. But so far, we have had no response."

Unlike the system of government employed mercenaries to hunt the Dark Wizards as their highest national security, the Japanese had a militaristic branch built on honor and built-in nationalism, paralleled in the Ningen counterparts (if the system ain't broke, don't fix it) in voluntary enlistment in a policing and on-call system.

Any student was guaranteed a rank of First Lieutenant if graduated from Mahoutokoro and any Tasai of them with the incentive of Captain upon enrollment.

(Let it be known that the land of Japan was certainly not below blatant discrimination.) 

"But that is not the main issue here." Akashi hums, a glint in his eyes as the image displays Dumbledore. "Wizengamot and their Chief Warlock are the true power within their government as much as Fudge-san tries to pacify the public; we cut off them, the rest will fall like dominos. I have no doubt that the esteemed Headmaster is aware of our political status and the current strife between us and the Ministry, yet he has not made a move of his own."

"Why?" Aomine supplies the obvious, annoyed. "If we had a security breach of this level of fucking incompetence, more than just heads would have rolled. Abdomens would have been cleaved through and guts spilling at the very least."

Seppeku. Truly what a bloody history their nation had.

Not that they ever admitted it officially, or in the history books.

(The true convenience of the Dark Arts.)

It was so ironic. Whether it be Magical or Ningen, the Japanese seemed to be the same in regards to their dirty laundry.

Noises of agreement were made as they were all aware of the harshness of the system.

Incompetence was a sin. Not a privilege in the cutthroat Mahoutokoro or Teikou.

Matsumoto sighs, a retired General himself. "They are waiting to see the legitimacy of Momoi's claims. Tasai, you may be in Japan, but in this foreign land, you all are mere children who are claiming that you have all the secrets of their government. To them, you all are a bunch of outlandish children, too powerful to oppose directly as a guest; therefore, to not offend the elders behind you, remain silent."

(Kise rolls his eyes internally as he catches the tells of a hidden sneer in Murasakibara beside him.

Tell us how you really feel, old man. Projecting much?

Akashi merely adds-on to his mental list of souls to reap before graduation.)

"Yes, I had feared that the repertoire of our Kiseki would have been sufficient in removing such false perceptions but it appears that I had been worried for nothing."

(For you are still children, after all. Nakamura implies.

Murasakibara bites into his waffle snack a bit harder than necessary. It is not really our fault that these maggots are too stupid to realize a threat when they see one, is it? These fools couldn't even see the one in their face.

Another one. Akashi hums, seeing his tea.)

"Thank you, sir." Kuroko replies blandly to the backhanded compliment, eyeing the most powerful man in Japan.

"Fudge will need to live." Matsumoto comments, annoyed as Nakamura nods, deeming it good enough to move on.

"The contact?" The Prime Minister asks. "Chang?"

The blonde gives a cursory nod. "She appears to have the target's eye and heart. She is aware of her standing."

"Make sure of it. Her brother's life is forfeit if she does not comply."

There is a round of agreements.

"The Third Task will take place as planned, then." Nakamura states, satisfied before turning to Kise. "Kise-kun, do you have the layout of the office?"

A vial is held up. "I shall send it to you tonight, sir."

The man nods in reply. 

A soft hum takes them all from the bipolar blonde to the captain.

"Prime Minister. And of the delivery?"

A pause before the man is brave enough to ask. "I shall leave that... to your discretion."

The heterochromic eyes glint in the soft light, dulling none of the cruel steel.

The Headmaster, in person, flinches away from his student involuntarily.

For Akashi-kun was no longer asking for permission. Leverage, they may have had.

But really, Matsumoto bemoans, whom had the gall to defy Akashi Seijuurou of what he demanded?

The tension is abruptly broken with the ringing of a phone.

Playing 'In the Hall of the Mountain King' with increasing urgency.

Owlishly, the Headmaster watches as the Dark Arts Master answers to incoherent screaming. While the rest of his students either groan or do their own version of exasperated incredulity.

What. What the fuck was happening.

Then Kuroko-kun looks to the room. "It appears all of our Thirds are suspended in the air through spider threads from Murasakibara-kun's storages."

(Matsumoto holds back the urge to facepalm.

Spider threads from the said storages were stronger than stainless steel, making enchanted swords and blades dull, no matter the material. And with the wares of Murasakibara, not even the blade of Godric Gryffindor was tearing through.

The only way through was poison, a fatal poison, that could at least kill a hundred men upon injection.

And did he mention that spider threads from Murasakibara were soaked in an acidic solution, meaning that they were slightly sensitive to the touch?

'Slightly sensitive' meaning, applying only to the six—ah, he means seven — students before him.

That explained the screaming. Huh.

For the nth time, he thanks the gods he was not born in this generation.)

Aomine sighs before facepalming. "I told them to be on guard."

("Oi... Watch out."

"..." Harry and the Durmstrang students stared at one another, confused while the Japanese students stiffened horridly.

"T-Thank you, Aomine?" Ron says, unsure, sore on the floor.

Nodding in satisfaction at the answer, the tanned male makes his exit, leaving his students with bruised bodies and more so, egos.)

"How disappointing. Perhaps, the Hogwarts reprieve is affecting them." Akashi clicks his tongue, rising a brow when the shouting from the phone increases in volume. "A development, Tetsuya?"

"Mhm. It appears that the other Seconds had arrived. And have gotten stuck as well. They have begun panic." More screaming and loud bangs. "And are currently breaking the interior of the classroom."

(He does not get paid enough for this. Matsumoto bemoans, ignoring the stupefied look on Nakamura's face.

He looks a mixture of disturbed and horrified. Yet oddly pleased.

Matsumoto relates.) 

Kise giggles. "Do none of them carry any of Murasakibaracchi's 'Lethal Poison XV?'"

"Collateral damage." Midorima reminds them before looking at Kuroko. "Any Hogwarts or Durmstrang in the crossfire?"

Kuroko shakes his head. "The students were given missives that this class was an exclusively Mahoutokoro class."

"So, it was Mine-chin and Kuro-chin's trap this time. How about the classroom, Kuro-chin?" Murasakibara hums lazily. 

Kuroko waves a hand in assurance. "Do not worry, Murasakibara-kun. Kise-kun has already placed the fortifications that parallel our ship and I have placed sound-proofing into the mortar."

The sole female waves the motion to leave their subordinates to it as a learning experience as they slowly meander to the classroom anyway when Matsumoto orders them to free them before the burns before permanent. 

(Nakamura still has the dumb look on his face.

If Kise snaps a photo of it on his way out and sends one to the Headmaster, it's none of anyone's business but his.) 

Everyone was always too interested in how to perform Dark Arts.

Humans, as a principle, were more interested on the harm more than the good, deep down. The sick sense of satisfaction that was dangerously sweet to bite even without Eve's temptation, was long before the need for morals.

Hence, the lack of knowledge on how to undo them, since the outcome was often, if not, always permanent.

(It is not to be confused with healing.

Because that removes the requirement of being a Dark Art.)

Kuroko may have had the Netherworld at his fingertips and the dead at his beck-and-call, but he was no god.

He could not bring anyone back.

(Like how Kise-kun could bend time and space, but not enough to fix the mistakes that mattered the most. Just how Aomine-kun could break any known mortal physical record, but not for an immoral cause. How Midorima-kun could cross lines from non-living to the living and vice-versa but could not suspend any consciousness that dwelled within. Akashi-kun could see and predict but not enough to see it all. Murasakibara-kun could bend and counter most injuries, but even that had it's limits.

They were no gods.

Sometimes, it was hard to remember that.)

Therefore, the problem of a severed soul.

How do you glue back something that shouldn't have been severed in the first place? And will it bear the history of it like a mirror or like healed scars? Could it be done at all?

(Kuroko stares at his palms.

His scars stare back, healed and once too deep to be invisible now.

It wasn't like anyone noticed, really.

He ate the same. Even if nothing really registered outside of Momoi's poisonous concoctions or his heavenly milkshakes.

He behaved the same. Even if everything felt dulled unless he was his friends. The holders of his soul. What was left of it.

He was alive. It was more than most had.

He still had his friends, his magic, his goddess, and his memories.

It had to be enough.)

Momoi-san had begged him not to, cursed to watch.

He does not listen, apologizing to her after he leaves for Seiren and her in the cherry blossoms.

Holding the severed fragments of his once-full moon soul to hide in the orbits of more powerful celestial beings. 

(Kuroko holds his chest in the silence of the locker rooms after each game, mocking his pain as the shards of the broken mirror stare back at him.

It's not their fault. He glares at the broken mirror. They don't know.

Then who's fault is it. It seems to glare right back at him.

The fucking world. Someone, who sounds like Aomine-kun, says in the back of his head.

His goddess asks him if he regrets.

She shows him his friends, crying yet slowly freed of their pride. How can he with friends like these?

The hollow pain throbs for what is not there. 

He does not.)

Kagami-kun reminds him so much of Aomine-kun, his empty chest echoes hollowly every time he is near.

So, it is no surprise that he grows closer to his new light, who is so similar yet so different.

Before the pain reminds him what the redhead did not do and how he is by his side.

And how five others are not.

(Momoi-san tells him what he already knows.

She is crying before she say it all. Despite the fact, he can see the answer on her face.

Everyone knows how to destroy a Horcrux. How to create one. How to make more of them. How to protect them from discovery. Even to bypass the requirement of murder to create one. 

But no one knows how to fix them.

Not one. She wails in his arms, clutching his damp shirt in white knuckles. All of those scrolls in that gods-damned fucking library that the God of Knowledge boasts to contain, and not one of them tells me how to fucking save you. It's... not fucking fair, Tetsu-kun.

Because why would someone who severs their own soul need to be saved?)

That is until there is a way.

(Momoi laughs, breathy.

Akashi-kun stares at floor, covered in dozens of scrolls, evidence of his shared efforts with a despondent Midorima beside him with tightening fists. Kise is hollow as he stares into the abyss of his own, holding back at the snarling Murasakibara, who is near feral from charging at the white-haired god that belongs to their former manager.

Whom is being held up by the collar by an irate Aomine-kun.

Demanding the god to not fucking lie. That there had to be another way.

Because all of them knew that it was impossible for Kuroko Tetsuya.)

They nearly attack one another in tempest in self-hatred and righteous anger.

Until he steps in.

("I had no intention of taking them back. Never. Not even after.")

Kuroko stares back at his hands.

Remembers his wish.

Knows that his hands were never meant to save others and aches.

("To return the fragments of a severed soul, the creator must feel remorse for creating and severing the soul in the first place... because there has never been a soul who has severed their soul for a noble reason."

And they all know that Kuroko Tetsuya, even in his worst, has never regretted it.)

Akashi is seated in a plush armchair, his hands folded and bi-colored eyes on the tea in hand.

The student is dressed impeccably in his militaristic uniform, crop dangling from his side and wand in his sleeve along with other weaponry. As if his presence was not enough.

Yet his company was not to be underestimated neither.

Albus Dumbledore smiled, twinkling eyes welcoming in the privacy of his office. His phoenix trills softly in the silence, as Akashi nods, to the Western counterpart of his own pets at home before his thoughts drift to the wizard before him.

He was an individual of trusted means. There was no reason not to, on the surface. A Headmaster, warm-hearted and with a reputation that was undeniably kind, and Chief Warlock at that; those who acknowledged power, prestige and even basic logic would have wholesomely accepted the wizard's words at point blank, without question.

Akashi Seijuurou did not acknowledge others by such standards.

(Trust was too naive of a word.

In the end, even Kuroko was not trusted. It was an understanding that they held.

On what the other would do and what he would, they had a bond.

The others were easy to understand, simpler individuals that coincided with his own agenda.)

No, the man before him was similar. Not identical. But similar enough.

Both manipulated others, kindness be damned. Proposed ideas when the choice they wanted was the only one to choose. Had no concern as to the mental well-being of others over the results. It was only the results that mattered.

(Only one person had been able to keep up with him.)

"Mr. Akashi, what can I do for you?"

Akashi lowers his cup. "I propose a deal, Headmaster Dumbledore."

The Chief Warlock hums. "Would this concern your findings at the Ministry of Magic?"

"No, no." Seijuurou waves aside. "But rather the one you call the Dark Lord. Or should I say your former student, Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

The man flinches, frozen. The goddess within his consciousness chuckles.

 "In exchange," Akashi smiles sweetly. "For one of your precious students, Headmaster. Will you entrust one of them to my hands?"

Dumbledore promptly spits out his tea.

After the World Cup, Before Mahoutokoro's Arrival to Hogwarts

The Kiseki no Sedai and their manager were still in the center of the National Diet Building.

Akashi stood at the center, with the others flanking his sides with Momoi directly behind. If they are uncomfortable with the magic-suppressing cuffs on their wrists, none of them show it.

The seats are filled with members of the two hundred and ten members of the Parliament, doors sealed with maximum security. And at the head, their Prime Minister, all present robed in their uniforms.

(Nakamura eyes the room.

The Meiji uniform was the military. The robes were the traditional.

And all present were in the Meiji.)

"Your orders, Kiseki no Sedai, upon the anonymous agreement of this Parliament is the following: restore the glory of our sacred nation for the insult against our diplomacy, meet with your contact, win the Tasks and deliver the promised gift to our ally." Nakamura declares, slamming the mallet upon the pedestal. "Therefore, with the authority bestowed upon me, as Prime Minister, I, in the behalf of this Ministry and Parliament, ask that the gods be with you."

More than one found the irony amusing.

Of course, these children had the gods' ear, that was what landed them there in first place.

There is a stretch of silence.

Terse and tense, the members of Parliament sweated uneasily.

They were supposed to bow, to signify their acknowledgment of their orders. 

None of them moves.

But someone else does.

He appears in a blur, a trick of light yet with none at all. Because with the grace of an apparition, Kuroko Tetsuya stands before his five friends, his back to the Prime Minister.

He stands alone in a marred black, unlike their pristine white.

A flaw in a sea of perfection.

Then, with a majesty of an emperor, Akashi Seijuurou, the Tasai of the Imperial Goddess, herself, falls to his knees.

The world seems to shudder in terror at the action. 

Nakamura's lungs forget to breathe. And so does the rest of the room.

Then, the other five kneel, like their leader. And in unison, they saikeirei* before their phantom, who is the only one standing.

Nakamura does not see the expression on the boy's face.

He does not need to see it to know that this Parliament has moved too rashly.

Not when an orange sunset eye stares at him from behind her Tasai, carefully blank and unmoved before a sadistic grin breaks out, laughing airily in the silence like she is choking from being in the land of the living. She laughs hysterically with no sound before dissipating into the shadows, taking her mortal chosen in her leave as the shadows gather.

A hint of color catches his eye.

Someone's breath hitches. Maybe it's his. Or it's the entire room.

Because upon the breast of the six present, blooms an orange Sayuri*, five petals hatched in their fury. 

The blossom of the netherworld that promises blood, carnage, and most importantly, revenge. 

Chapter Text

The greatest advantage of mazes was that one was alone and had only their wits about them to navigate through. No need to debate which way to go and maneuvering in such a closed space.

Momoi frowned, hair in a ponytail as she glared at the intel her network had composed for her — it was less detail than the other two, however, it was enough to see that the Task was obviously a trap. What a suitable one, if it were not the trapped mice were actually dragons.

Divide and conquer. She hums, each of her boys will be isolated. 

Ho, so they have some tactics, after all. Her god whispered, his fingers ghosting hers as she pauses, mid-page flip. Young Akashi will have a coherent plan, while, your intel will finally be maximized to the full. Remember, my dear, you have only one move in your arsenal. Use it wisely.

Momoi narrowed her gaze, flipping the page. I am not the girl two years ago, my lord. But your words of concern are appreciated. 

Of course. Omoikane smirked, covered eyes crinkling behind the black ribbon. Be sure to secure the gift.

Momoi smiled with everything a smile shouldn't have been, wide and mad.

Fog loomed on the evening of the Third Task, the stands outside the entrance of the maze crowded by the students of the three schools.

Along with special guests — parents, family and so on. The two foreign schools declined the offer.

Dumbledore noted it but said nothing.

(Nevermind, the Ministry ensemble present in a special area with the professors. Truly, what a monumental tournament this one would be.)

Matsumoto was beside Momoi as she leaned against the highest level, expressions cold and severe.

To Harry, Momoi was a player all on her own.

She knew things, Harry shivers, recalling how Zacharias Smith had tried to confess to her in front of the Kiseki, after rudely commenting at her charges. The girl revealed every secret of the prick, from his worst subject to his unusual choice of underpants.

When questioned on her methods, the pink witch merely smiled evasively, before saying it was a trade secret.

Pushing open the burlap entrance and bypassing Murasakibara's barriers for her entrance, Momoi scanned over all her boys.

Akashi was all dressed, gear strapped and light blue cape over his shoulders.

Like the last Task, his cherry wand was confiscated from his possession like the rest of his team. The proposition was Hermione's counter of previous tournament amendments to the disadvantaged teams at the end, to give what the people love the most in the entertainment that the event preceded — an underdog to root for.

Therefore, for the 'fairness and name of good sportsmanship', the Kiseki were limited by the following: nonlethal means against all players, no wands, wandless magic and magical items are allowed as is brooms (and their accessories) and legal limitations of magic are dependent upon the nation they were physically in. In other words, British law applied to the Kiseki and Durmstrang. 

(Kise eyes the wording of the contract, golden gaze glowing with an amber glint.

"Are these your terms, Ravenclaw?"

Davis gulps, despite knowing that he and Hermione had combed through the technicalities. "Yes, Kise."

A snap is heard before an exquisite seal of subtle gold appears on the corner of the parchment, beside the agreement of Durmstrang's own coat of arms and Hogwarts' — a soft laugh takes his attention to his company, with a tepid Poliakoff in between, as Kise smiles.

"Don't hold it against us, little piggies~")

Unlike Akashi, Murasakibara was busying himself with strapping fingerless gloves, having been requested to wear them for this Task — unlike his captain, the titan lacked a cape, surname stitched to the back like everyone else.

Aomine looked cross as he tied combat boots to his feet firmly, annoyed that their uniform required longer sleeves and no shorts, however, was pacified when he wasn't required to wear any more layers. Kise was dressed the most similarly to the ace, both the only ones in sleeves that ended at the elbows and combat boots — the blonde given lighter gear, however, by Akashi's request.

Midorima was ready as well, tying his lucky item of the day, a black tassel, to his belt loops as he wore an outer jacket like everyone but Aomine and Kise, clipped in his mid-section. Lastly, Kuroko adjusted his communicator over his ear, everyone else wearing one along with Momoi as they finished up.

"Any strange movements, Momoi?" Akashi questioned, as they all listened.

The manager shook her head. "Everyone is keen to see the Third Task, but nothing out of our expectations. Matsumoto-kocho is expectant and the Minister is looking forward to the results."

"Nothing out of the ordinary, then." The captain smirked, amused at the stirrings that they caused indirectly. "And of the other Teams?"

"Hogwarts appears hopeful that if they could win this Task and have the same bonus as the Second Task, they could win — Durmstrang expressed the same sentiments."

"It appears that you were correct as well, Shintarou."

Midorima huffed as he muttered that the redhead had the same predictions. "And of Moody?"

Momoi's eyes narrowed. "Monitored."

"Most likely here to make sure that Potter is dead." Aomine snorted.

"Then we shouldn't disappoint." Akashi cupped his cheek with his half-gloved hand, smirk deepening. "Make sure to watch yourselves out there. It is dangerous out there, everyone."

From outside the tent, Matsumoto did not have to hear what they were speaking of to know that his students were ready.

The glee in their eyes screamed it all.

The hedge maze towered mid-way from the height of the rings of the pitch, forcing the players to fly low and carefully.

A reinforced barrier prevented them from viewing the maze from above and unable to blast their way through the plant walls, making them confront what was in front of them while trying to navigate through the maze; whether it be in a grouped effort or alone. The schools were given as followed: Durmstrang communicated through Legilimency, Mahoutokoro used their ear-pieces, while Hogwarts was provided with a cross of the two — all approved before usage was granted.

A pedestal stood in the grassy opening of the entrance to the maze where they all were gathered, all nineteen of them in their respective teams, hovered by their respective Headmaster.

As Flitwick silenced the band in the front of the stands, all took their seats as Dumbledore took the podium.

"Earlier today, Professor Moody placed the Triwizard Cup deep within the maze — in the very center, where victory and glory rests with the cup. Now, as Mahoutokoro…" A loud cheer from the Japanese stands sounded, the subordinates' rooting them on as their superiors nodded at their support, followed by cheers for the other two schools when they were announced. "… are currently in first place, they will be the first to enter the maze; followed by Durmstrang and Hogwarts."

"There is one ball in this battle royale of Quidditch. The Triwizard Cup! The first person to touch the cup and return to the entrance will be the winner!" Dumbledore boomed, followed by loud cheers and clapping. "I have instructed the staff to patrol the perimeter. Should, at any point, a contestant wish to withdraw from the task, he or she need only send up red sparks with their wands. Communications are open channel to their respective teams only for fair play."

Turning away from the podium, Dumbledore waved all the teams to gather. "Champions! Gather around. Quickly!"

Akashi stood half-step in front of his team, similar to Krum and Diggory as they did as instructed — the Headmaster of Hogwarts' expression grave and almost wary as he spoke. "In the maze, you will find creatures of the dark and deep — overcome them as splendidly you have done prior as we all are aware. However, within these hedges, you'll face something even more challenging."

Dumbledore paused. "You see, people change in the maze. Oh, find the cup if you can. But be very wary, you could just lose yourselves along the way."

If one observed closely enough, one could see six people flinch ever so slightly.

With those ominous words, Dumbledore dismissed them. "Champions, line up at your entrance!"

And with a kick off the ground, Harry darts forward on his broom.

The Third Task has begun.

Quickly, many wished that they could just dismount within the first turn within the maze. Any player worth their weight knew that this was a test of true broom control, to fly low and in sharp turns against the high hedges.

Krum was of these, stealthy, abiding his time as he moved on, hiding the the shadows of the hedges to obscure his built figure.

Luckily, he was lanky enough, hovering just under the edge of the hedge line. 

In terms of threats, the Japanese were the obvious ones — all of them, the fragile-looking Seeker included. Krum witnessed the impassive boy's resolve with front seats. But Krum was not foolish enough to disregard the Hogwarts team so easily.

Rolling his shoulders in anticipation, he eyes his surroundings. 

A defeated vampire later (they were asked to not to kill, how dull) Krum takes in the dead end impassively.

Before turning around, the Seeker felt a sixth sense to duck.

A hand charged with crackling, yellow magic — fatal — dances just over his spine as he maneuvers in a tuck and roll in mid-air, waving for his broom to appear under him. He breathes heavily with exertion, blood pumping under chilled skin as gold colors the darkness.

"Ho~ You're a fast one too, hm?"

Kise smirked at him, receding his magic. "The little contract of that Granger girl never mentioned any of our combat magic. Not that you or those little piggies knew of it. Maybe I should have listened to Midorimacchi's Oha-Asa today. I was expecting to mess with those Hogwarts guys in this Task, not run into the likes of you so early."

"I thought the same." Krum replied in accented English — he was cornered in the dead end. Damn. "Set up?"

The handsome blonde hums a non-answer. "That would imply that you were worth a plan, in the first place, Krum."

He needed to get his broom at the mouth of the dead end and get the hell out here.

A yellow obstruction was in his way, a predator that had no intention in letting him leave.

Kise strikes first, giving him no room to follow with his thought of getting out of this trap. Copies of his form surrounded him with inhumane speeds, Krum barely able to dodge their attacks — one dove under him, nearly kicking the broom out from his grasp another grazing his ear with crackling yellow magic with a pointed hand, another connecting with a powerful blow from something metal to the bristles of his broom.

Spinning, Krum regains his bearings to see the blonde Japanese wielding an ornamental pipe, polished wood and golden embellishments that crusted with multicolored gems, emitting a pinkish smoke.

"What is that?"

Kise shrugs, twirling it like it was a common pencil. "My inheritance, you can say. My goddess' toy and therefore, mine." 

"More wandless magic?"

Kise grins at the other's mild resignation. "Did you think our magic was limited to just that? This is weapons-combat magic if you will. You little contract didn't make any specifics outside of wands."

"I need a manager."

Kise agrees, lunging in mid-conversation as his copies surround Krum. "Momoicchi is very good at her job." 

Commanding his magic, Krum breathed heavily as red bolts of magic attacked from all sides from his vicinity, taking down all the Kise copies. The original coos with mock abandon, unscathed, snapping his fingers before Krum could have the thought to retaliate — finding himself unable to move any of his joints.

The hell?

Flopping over in a heap with his broom, he sees it on his wrist, a thin strip of parchment interwoven around the bone and flesh, hardened with Japanese characters.

Binding talismans.

"If you were one of Mahoutokoro's, I would have bound your jaw and fingers too. But you and the Hogwarts team seem to be useless the moment someone takes your little sticks." The predator blinks, his expression suddenly wide-eyed and innocent. "You all, compensating for something?"

Krum does not bother to answer. Instead, he groans in annoyance, knowing that he was out of the picture.

But instead of leaving, the blonde hovers just over him, bringing the pipe to his lips. "And for the finishing move..."

A sweet scent floods his senses before all Krum knows is darkness.

In the now pinkish fog, a voice rings out as the hedge swallows Krum. "Akashicchi. Krum is down."

"Well done, Ryota. Any signs of the target?"

"None in my area."

"Any complications?"

Kise reports a negative and ends the conversation. Open channel was too distracting for this task unlike the others, because while the bravado was needed to intimidate for future tasks, this was the last one. Plus, with the audience broadcast to see a serious Kiseki was more effective for that. 

Ah, the mind games.

(The sight of a smug blonde teen exhaling the pink smoke with a soft puff to Krum's now relaxed face was too close to the Imperius Curse for the later generations' liking.

While being framed by the images of the dominating Kiseki, the unaccustomed parents found themselves flinching at the brutal sights and the realization that they were watching a tournament for children to beat one another for fame.

These are the same children who were sent to school.

They are children.)

Hovering over his spoils of several Dementors' remains, spilling shadows from under their tattered robes, Akashi calls Aomine, who had just encountered Montague and Wood going against an acromantula, who had apparently poisoned the former and the latter seemed to have a death wish.

Seeing the situation between his captain and volatile environment, the youth chooses to address the more dire option first.

He answer his v important phone call.

"Daiki."

"Yo." Aomine nods, kicking the broom under him to dodge a spray of venom.

This shit was custom-made. It was fucking expensive. 

Wood near concusses himself in mid-flight against one of the spider legs, while Montague begins twitching erratically.

Not that Aomine sees any of it.

You know, big spider and all. V distracting from the minor details, you see.

"Report."

"There are more people here than there should be. And right now, the Gryff-whatever in the love-hate relationship with the snake house just brained himself and the other bastard from the snake house is... uh, where the fuck did he... oh, he thinks the spider is some girl. Didn't know these British people are into that shit."

"Focus, Daiki."

"Ew, he's caressing it."

"Oh? It's not attacking him?" Akashi sounds mildly surprised a moment unlike Aomine, who is gaping at the sight.

"It's fucking purring."

"Language."

"He should be fucking dead."

"Unless the venom wasn't venom."

Aomine blinks. "Then what... oh."

Akashi, the smug bastard, smirks into his answer. "Yes, Daiki. Oh."

Deciding that he and Akashi were not close enough to be discussing giant spider sex rituals in detail and real time, Aomine hangs up, leaving Akashi to chuckle at the other's embarrassment. 

The plan was going well so far as expected — things were not to get messy until the end at any rate. Kise and Aomine appeared to be progressing smoothly to rid of the extra pieces as he mentally adjusts them in his head before calling Murasakibara.

"Atsushi."

"Aka-chin~" Murasakibara was relatively calm for someone who was in a barrier, surrounded by erklings. "How are you?"

"I am well, Atsushi. Report."

"No one over here, Aka-chin."

It made sense that Murasakibara was unchallenged, who bore intimidation in mere appearance and description. Overcoming the giant took what was required for his namesake — wits or overwhelming force — and most underestimated, the sharpness of Murasakibara. He may have been a child mentally, but the sleeping beast rivaled Aomine in instincts; second in line, perhaps, but the margin was not significant enough to not warrant caution.

Moving on, he calls Midorima.

"Shintarou."

"Akashi." They exchange before getting right to it. "No encounters. The area is clear, outside of the hags and common ayakashi."

The captain makes a small noise of acknowledgement.

How amusing. They even brought in some common ayakashi to spice up the final Task.

Ayakashi were, for the lack of a better term, demons that were dwellers of the dying residues of the mythos of Japan, roaming based on their individual folklore and depending on their legends were ranked in a simple system under the Ministry.

"Rank?"

As a nation that specialized in the language of flowers, each rank was a blossom of ill omens, with a numerical underscore from one to five before ascending to the next rank. The highest and exclusive to certain monsters was Sayuri, an orange lily of the Netherworld, the symbol of it's goddess' hatred for her spouse, followed by the infamous Higanbara, the red spider lily that bloomed in abandonment, warning those who encountered the beasts of it's rank to abandon hope or their life be forfeit.

Seldom with youkai that were not bloodthirsty or violent was Tsubaki, the red camellia, despite being the middle of the rankings was an ominous warning for those who had the misfortune of encountering her rank to perish in grace. The more common and less violent demons were under the rank of Kuroyuri, a dark blossom of the rice lily, since those who fell victim were often not subjected to death and mere torment, they were merely regarded as cursed beings.

Leaving the most harmless and naughty, last, under Furijia, the wild freesia characterized for childish whims.

"Tsubaki and some Furijia, none above that."

"They must have commissioned them from the Headmaster." Akashi hums, blatantly ignoring the sounds of writhing and hissing from the other end. "How unusual for you to be struggling with such beasts, Shintarou, as a Master of Taming."

"Taming does not imply immediate obedience, Akashi."

Akashi has the mirth to chuckle. "Not the contemporary sense, perhaps. I shall check in at another time."

The call clicks, ending.

It is when Kuroko finally picks up that a bolt of fiery orange magic intercepts the idle Akashi, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Ah, Tetsuya— A moment, please."

Before rising a red disk of ruby magic to shield himself, unflinching at the crackling energies.

"A Confringo, if I am not mistaken. One of the more effective curses in this side of the world. Wouldn't you say, Poliakoff?"

From the shadows, the vice captain of Durmstrang reveals himself with a click of his tongue. "You knew."

Akashi indulges him. "Many have conjectured that I know more than just the circumstances."

"You will not win. Durmstrang shall be victorious." Poliakoff states, determination etched on his marble features. "Krum will not lead us wrong."

"Then I have no choice but to accept your challenge."

Twin red disks nearly slice off his arms if the vice captain had not dove, shouting a Protego to counter or bat them aside — Akashi does not stop his frontal assault, giving his opponent no room to counter. Straining to go against someone who had basically had more than one wand than him, Poliakoff somehow maintained his defenses.

"Not bad." Akashi hums, before red needle-like spears of red appear in between his gloves in his right hand, hidden behind the disk bearing left. "But this is as far as you go."

With the insertion of a fast-acting venom, curtesy of Atsushi with his needles and knowledge of human anatomy, the confrontation ends with Poliakoff joining the dementors at the base of his makeshift throne as Akashi returns to his call.

"Hello, Tetsuya? My apologies for the delay."

That delay, being less than six minutes of dialogue and exchanges.

(A child nods solemnly. "No wonder Hogwarts can't win."

The frown on Amos Diggory's face deepened, eyeing his cautious son, who was recovering from a heated confrontation with a Boggart, pale-faced but the spark in his eyes bright.

Be safe, Cedric.)

"Not at all, Akashi-kun." Kuroko's monotone rings out, as the camera on him... there is no camera on him... "How are you on your end?"

(However, if one looks in the corner, in the far distance in the camera angled to Oliver Wood, there is a small tuft of sky blue that looked like it blended into the foggy background...)

"No troubles so far. Your report?"

"Ah, no encounters. My area is clear."

How interesting. Akashi mentally adjusts his pieces. "Very well, I shall call again, Tetsuya. Until then."

"Goodbye, Akashi-kun."

Kuroko eyes the shadows that linger over his person, then Roger Davis who he bypassed as the fog dampens his clothes before his gaze returns to his shadows, he commands them to search.

To search for the ones who will be the centerpiece of their desperate gamble. 

The plan was easy enough — eliminate as many monsters and opponents in your designated area. Nonlethal, sadly.

Midorima scanned his surroundings with careful eyes before continuing, dismissing the small coos from the jellyfish-like ayakashi, dancing in the will-o-wisps of an eerie blue.

Taking a right, Midorima frowned as he found another dead end with an acromantula to snap at him.

Disgusting. The Sea Princess scowls, her golden hairpieces twinkling with her movements. Sloppy work. The only thing viable of it is the fact that some of it's kin are venomous. These were only bred for size, how dull.

Is that relevant, at the moment? Midorima huffs as he disposes of it with a wave of green magic, the guts and clear blood staining his gloves. It was going to take forever to wash out the goopy substance — having been careful enough to not allow the blasted spider take a bite out of him but lacked the foresight of flying intestines.

Ew. 

"NOW!"

The loud shout took Midorima from his disgust, narrowing his eyes at the direction of the shout — most certainly, female — that broke it down to two persons: Alexei Levsei or Angelina Johnson.

"Stupefy!" 

An ambush. Midorima thought to himself as he brought up his defenses, the magic circle under him expanding as first defense disintegrated the Stun with ease — revealing the two girls in question.

Removing his soiled gloves to reveal wrapped fingers, the shooting guard lifted his glasses.

"Hm. Teaming up to counter our team, not a bad move to try." Midorima respected that much.

But there was something wrong with their execution. As a team was only good if their combined strength was stronger or rivaled their opponent's and that did not apply here. To go against them was a pipe dream.

"Go!" Alexei pointed behind him, indicating that Angelina corner him from his back and await for an opportunity, orders spoken in accented English. "Follow the plan!"

Midorima waved a hand, as ring of smoke erupted from the outer ring of the circle — hiding all of them in storm of teal smoke and even thicker fog. Hearing Johnson behind him as she began to cough from the irritant in the gas, Midorima merely had to listen for the sounding thud after sending a blast of his magic aimed at her back before he faced Levsei.

Unlike Johnson, she had the precaution of placing her hand over her face, guarding her from coughing at least for a bit.

"Do not bother." Midorima sniffed. "The gas from this particular Eastern acromantula in this formulation can be absorbed through your eyes just as easily if you were to breathe it in. Within fifteen minutes, you would be joining your friend."

Her eyes glared with a silent question. And of you?

"If you think of me inefficient enough to be affected by my own biological weapons, then you are more foolish than I thought."

About to fire a Stun, Midorima suddenly heard a voice. 

Child, behind you! 

Turning with swifter than believable reflexes, the shooting guard activated the second defense in the inner ring of his magic circle — to see a frozen, mid-air Zograf a foot away from his form, wand ready to take him out if he had not activated it.

Recovering quickly with internal curses of carelessness, the bespectacled vice captain took out his remaining adversaries, knocking out Zograf with a powerful wave of his magic and Levsei, slumping over from the inhalant. Sweating and with a scape here and there (with some gigantic spider inhalant on his clothes), Midorima sighs before taking out his phone.

At the first ring, his call is answered.

"Shintarou."

"Levsei, Johnson and Zograf are down."

Akashi hums. "Six left. We may move to the next part sooner than expected."

At the same time, Alastor Moody, or Bartemius Crouch Jr. in disguise, cursed colorfully at the sight of Kise Ryota's superior stance over the defeated Krum, who was being collected by the vines in the hedge — magically induced to send the defeated members of the teams to the medic tents for immediate care.

He expected Mahoutokoro to dominate the Task like they did in the prior Tasks but not this quickly.

In the shadows, the Death Eater flicked his tongue out of habit.

His Lord was right. This boy, with the rest of his team, were the symbolism of the pureblood greatness that his Lord spoke of. Young, aristocratic and accomplished. They could not allow such gifted children to be drowned in the filth of Mudbloods and Muggles — they were pure of wizard blood.

Beings blessed by the gods, that stood upon mortals and Muggles as they struggled underfoot, as they should.

To just let them die, without even using their deaths to their cause would be such a waste. But with Kise and the rest of the Mahoutokoro teams still in play, he would have to settle for manipulating Krum instead to allow Potter some chance to the cup.

It is at that moment that he hears a voice behind him.

"Done with your monologue?"

The Death Eater reacts faster than Kise has in his expectations, backflipping onto another one of his magic circles as green light threatens his life, the one he hovered on while speaking to the Death Eater breaking into golden dust as he notes that the boy's broom is nowhere to be found. Feeling cold sweat on his skin, the enemy in disguise eyes the boy with his mechanical eye.

"What are you spouting 'bout, boy?"

"Cut the act." The blonde frowns, expression innocent but his eyes glacial. "We have known your identity for months. You may be skilled enough to fool your own government, but you are far from fooling the gods. Death Eater."

"You..." Bartemius Jr. is stunned before his mind races. They knew, yet did not reveal it. Even if they would only be rewarded for it. Why. "What do you want?"

Kise smirks.

"Why, just the same as you, Bartemius Crouch Jr and your esteemed Lord." Those lips widen devilishly. "Litigation."

Harry Potter felt the blood in his body pumping through his muscles faster than ever before, the pure adrenaline making his mind race as he took in the sight before him.

The Triwizard Cup glowed down the center of the maze, victory a mere dash of several hundred meters as a whirlwind seemed to dance over the hedge, gesturing for the mortals to dance to the rhythm of the world's whims.

But that was not what took his attention — the wind could have been nonexistent for all his obliviousness to it.

What took his — and everyone else's — attention was the Kiseki in-between him and the cup.

Kise Ryota snarled curse after curse as he collaborated with Aomine Daiki, the source of the whirlwind, as he fired powerfully charged bolts of blue lightning at the other side of Dark Creatures — banshees screeching, Dementors looming for souls, hags licking their chops, morphing Boggarts and strange looking creatures that glowed with grotesque contortions — making the perfect storm of offensive magic Harry had ever seen.

In the opposing side, Midorima and Murasakibara unleashed their own destructive whims with little trouble as blackish blood forcefields formed under the purple barrier as the Midorima seemed to be writing something in his magic circle, unbothered by the storm around him, as if it were normal.

It had been going for a least ten minutes.

Then with an earth shattering boom, the creatures went down, crying and wailing in pain.

Kise recovered first, amber eyes annoyed as he snaps his fingers to return his Binding Talismans. "Aominecchi! You were late!"

"Hah?!" The ganguro huffs, pointing to the carcasses of at least thirty Dark Creatures — Harry is still staring at them, too stunned to move. "Who the fuck was the one who missed that bitchass Boggart just now? Yours is that fucking former captain of yours? How fucking lame."

"I don't wanna hear that from you, who is scared of Akashicchi!"

("What the fuck." The Diggory patriarch states in the stunned silence.

With a background of a face-palming Snape who prays for sweet release from this hell.)

"You two are so noisy..." Murasakibara hovers over to them, a hand over his stomach as he nonchalantly does not even give the pools of black blood of his doing a passing glance. "Ne, ne, you guys have any snacks?"

("He... He can eat in this situation." Fudge mutters to himself, pale and looking like he had soiled himself.

Momoi smiles as the thought of Umbridge would have been willing to clean him up crosses her mind. If she were not too busy with all her lies coming belly-up, perhaps.

The manager fans herself, jewel eyes cold. Ah, sweet retaliation.)

"Th-This is…" The whispered words took Harry from his fixation, turning to see a just as pale Cedric Diggory beside him. "How the hell are we supposed to compete with that?"

They are distracted right now. Harry thought to himself. But if they managed to get past without them knowing, they might be able to get to the cup.

When Harry proposed his suicidal plan, Cedric voiced it. "You're insane, Potter."

A pause.

"…Let's do it."

With a determined grip, Harry flew after his captain, the both of them dodging rogue jinxes and nasty curses that killed or destroyed the earth underneath them as Murasakibara is the first to see them.

"Not so fast." The giant hums, as his own purple magic circle is revealed, appearing under both himself and Diggory. But they do not stop. They can't.

Harry does not realize that he does not feel any effects from the titan's magic.

For the first few meters, it almost looked like they were making good progress.

Hope surged in Harry. He could do it! Hogwarts could win!

Then, something nearly pulls Harry off his broom, his arm almost popping out of the socket. Looking down, Harry could not hold back a startled gasp. Green, thorned vines dug into his flesh as they spread over to his chest; Cedric shouting his own surprise as it binds him and his broom.

A snicker takes Harry's attention above him.

Aomine and Kise hover at the ceiling of the maze, their demeanor mocking. "You think we didn't notice you fucks sneaking by? Midorima!"

"Tsk." The shooting guard huffs, but complies as he sends Harry and Cedric pummeling to the ground via the vines. Harry sees an ornate spear in the glasses-wearing boy, blade pointing to the earth as the wines grew uncontrollably from the green magic circle.

No. He couldn't get eliminated so soon here. Not with the cup so close.

Harry twists his body, pulling at the vines to buy some more time airborne as Cedric is eliminated, left in the dust.

Harry!

Green eyes meet brown ones, as orders are sent to the younger Seeker in rapid, real-time.

Use me! Use me as a spring board and get that fucking cup!

Eyes wide with hesitation, Harry feels his body move anyway, pulled to Cedric's shaking body.

"Accio Harry Potter!" Cedric shouts, set like a volleyball player the best he can with the vines nearly swallowing him to launch the younger boy into the air. Tucking his knees, Harry feels himself in the air again after ignoring the grunt of pain from his captain at being a catapult.

He is too low for Kise or Aomine to make it on time and too far for Midorima and Murasakibara. And they know it in their individual gazes, as they try to anyway.

Five feet.

Four.

Three.

All he needs to do is reach for it.

Hogwarts' victory.

"Stupefy!"

Harry is flying. But in the opposite direction now.

Heads turn to the entrance of the center of the maze, as Pyotr Vukchanov makes his appearance with Dimitrov by his side, wands out and covered in grim.

The remains of the Durmstrang team. 

Vukchanov grins, teeth bloody. "Don't... count us out just yet."

"Not at all." A velvet voice smiles behind them from the shadows.

Akashi Seijuurou nods at his team, before eyeing Harry Potter on Davis' broom, backed up by Flint as the smile turns sinister.

"But will you last, against all five of us?"

Chapter Text

Before the End of First Year of High School, Japan

Despite the internal shaking of Nakamura, the Prime Minister of Japan's Ministry of Magic held all the cards here.

(Kuroko adjusts himself, uncaring of the shadows that dance around him.

Giggling, they whisper how delicious it would be to have the hall echo with screams of pain and the smell of burning souls.

He ignores them.)

He was seated cross the five most powerful children ever produced by the country since ancient times — with their respective gods by their side, summoned and as unreadable as their statues of worship.

Consciously, he knew that he was very safe.

The children were cuffed at their wrists and ankles, tongues paralyzed outside of the verbal permission to speak and drugged with enough mind-numbing sedatives to counter any non-verbal spells. Yet the gods were still able to be summoned before him. The Prime Minister, though internally found this method rather harsh, understood the fear from the Ministry as a whole by the sight before him — these children could still use their most powerful weapon even when restrained in a manner for the most notorious criminals.

"There is an additional condition."

Splintering wood rumbles in all of their ears as the cherrywood table cracks under blood-covered fists. Contrary to the general perception of an aged samurai, Hachiman was a youth with light golden armor with piercing icy blue eyes, long oceanic hair in a messy bun and two katana — blue and sea green — at his waist. The blades were held up by a braid of bright red, contrasting with his lavender robes as the only god smirked, expression annoyed.

"You... a linage of a minor goddess, dare?" Hachiman growled, as the air grew thick with ozone. "You and your colony of mortals already dared to bind them into obedience when you found out about that nuisance. Now, you dare to ask for more?"

Nakamura forces himself to swallow.

"Y-Yes. We dare, Hachiman-sama. It is for the nation, and as the God of Warriors, please sympathize with us. We are only trying to utilize the talents of your charges for the betterment of all."

Snorting, the god releases his grip, posture relaxing but his expression cold.

"Well?" An authoritative tone cuts in, as the gazes turn to a seated Toyotama-hime. Dressed in a blue uniform of a miko, the Sea Princess wore painted lips and a golden headdress with blue jewels, as her outlined eyes narrowed. "Get on with your condition, Prime Minister. And let us see whether it truly is for the betterment of your beloved nation."

The man clears his throat, hiding his nerves before steeling them. “Yes, Hime-sama. This condition is not a favor nor another order for your charges, but an insurance, that if failure were to ensue — the members of the Diet Building have unanimously decided that Kuroko Tetsuya, the current master of Izanami-sama, out of consideration of his young age will be confined to Miyajima in Hanketsu.”

The tension thickened three-fold.

(Kuroko eyes the stilled shadows, his dead gaze the only reason they do not leech from his control and begin to consume.)

He was safe. Nakamura reminds himself. Safe.

Nothing but the sound of the Prime Minister’s laborious breathing echoed, as multiple-colored eyes killed him many times over.

Nothing happened to him.

But if the precautions were not placed, not even gods could save him.

Hanketsu was the underground prison of the most notorious criminals of Japanese magic users, too dangerous to allow freedom but too valuable to allow to die so easily. Located underneath an island named for the shrines of it’s shores, the sacred ground was suffocating to any soul who had harbored any form of malicious intent — the blessings of the gods’ too stifling for even the most docile youkai to enter.

In other words, it was a living hell for any Dark Arts wielder.

The perfect prison for the Master of Dark Arts.

("They dare?"

A cornflower eye meets a bright sunset one, before the former lids, a small smile gracing the lips. "Even your husband had dared against his wife. What makes these squirming mortals are any different in reaping the best of the worst?"

"Shameless! With no honor, they—"

"Would use me as a political hostage in the guise of consideration?" Kuroko stares at his scars, before looking at his friends. "What difference would have been from a year ago, Izanami-sama? We cannot afford to think so naively anymore.")

A breath.

“N-Naturally, as long as all of members of Kiseki no Sedai and their manager adhere to their word of keeping Japan as the top of world and future enlistment into the ranks of our military — there will be no need to have this condition fulfilled.”

“Naturally.” Hachiman mocks from his perch as Uke Mochi flicks a loose hair from her long mane of ebony. Like the rest of the immortals, the once-slain goddess was youthful yet possessed an air of aged regality in too large purple robes that seemed to drag on forever behind her.

“In other words, as long as the the seven of them are kept under your fingers as little weapons, the safety of the little ghost is assured.” Painted lips scoffed as violet eyes danced over the tabletop now, a small albino snake tasting the air under her sleeve. “How original.”

They couldn’t hurt him. Nakamura feels the tension in air. The gods were right there.

“The pursuit of power,” The goddess of seduction purrs from the corner, running a manicured hand through Kise’s hair, issuing venomous glares from the younger blonde but no voiced complaints. “I and the rest of us can respect it. Hell, most of us can careless of the invisible boya you are so scared of. But you see, Prime Minister, they do.”

The hand waves over the imprisoned children.

“Do you really think that our Word matters here?”

The most gorgeous woman in the room widens her smile unnaturally broad.

“Do you really think that would save you?”

“Of course they do.” The highest god answered, unmoved since she was summoned.

She was the only one crowned with golden phoenixes, the only one who possessed the sunset eyes of the royal lineage, the ancestor of the emperors of golden age. Amaterasu burned with frosty ice behind Akashi, heterochromic eyes as unflinching as the goddess. “And it is the duty of the gods to reassure those who pray — to give our Word, that these conditions will be respected by both parties.”

There was no ceremony to bind it — nor any dramatics.

It wasn’t needed really, when the consequences of breaking it was a spectacular sight to see.

(Kuroko turns to the young woman beside him, carried in the arms of her white-haired god with seven new threads in her hands. Seven new Words for her to play with. For her to manifest new tortures for those who went against the sworn Words.

Cradling and nurturing like a mother, her soft smile was cruel.)

"And under the name of the gods, we give you our Word." Cold golden disks cut sharper than razors to meet the Prime Minister. "You would find it in self-preservation that your own contribution is guaranteed."

Several things happen in tandem after Akashi's question.

When he makes his appearance, everyone but the Kiseki freezes, flinching from the amused smile from the captain. But to the credit of the vestiges of the other teams, they do not falter for long and quickly recover. While Davis is disqualified by voluntary action after being swallowed into the hedges, Harry and Flint waste no time in gaining a buffer from the Kiseki, finding themselves beside the disgruntled pair of Dimitrov and Vukchanov, who do not look pleased but not make any move to go against the Hogwarts duo.

Why should they when the four of them had a bigger opponent to remove before them?

(Momoi hums at the line-up before nodding her head in acknowledgement.

Of course, it should not be this easy. It would have been so disappointing if that was all to this international tournament. It  should be hard and won with adrenaline running in fear of the prospect of losing.

Even if that was not possible.

It was no fun if the prey gave up so quickly. Suddenly, it was no longer a plaything but mere meat.

Lifeless yet still bleeding, it was similar to watching the game yet not a player.

Momoi knows the feeling too well. And thus, she watches.

Because it is what she has promised to do. Even if she hates it so much.) 

Leading to a sight that was truly the last Task, four members of Durmstrang and Hogwarts facing off, mid-air against the core five of Mahoutokoro — equidistant from the glimmering trophy.

And with a simultaneous move from both sides, the clash of magic began.

Pairing off, despite the one extra, none of them really had the time to consider it — as Akashi appeared before Harry with a loud tearing sound. Eyes taking in more than he can really process, a fumbled Protego protected him from various bits of what seemed to be the remains of a formerly white talisman, now sharpened to points and an electric red.

Crimson needles that barbed in the thickness of paper flew at him, glinting for blood.

Cursing internally, Harry sent his own barrage of curses and jinxes to counter, coloring their mid-air Duel in an array of colors.

"Stupefy!"

"Ho, how original." Akashi hums, dancing his way through the magic with fluid ease. Swift fingers decorated with the needles, now golden and fatally sharp, the captain grins at the pale complexion of the other Seeker. "How many more can you defend against, I wonder, Potter-san, under the circumstances?"

Gearing himself, Harry dives headfirst into the onslaught. 

Nearest to them is the conflict between Flint and Aomine, having taken their slugfest to another hall of hedges, having goaded the ace away with dirty insults.

"Oi. You fucks think you're the shit just because you up and win two of three?" Flint barks, his voice rough as he sends a Verdimillious toward Aomine, showering him in green sparks that were more annoying than harmful. "This stupid fucking thing is not done just yet, you Jap fucks!"

"Shut the fuck up, you snake fucker." Aomine snapped back, as three blue harpoons of light summoned by his side, attacking the older man with crackling fury.

Flint counters with a more powerful set of curses, canceling them from each other when a noxious fog loomed from the underbrush of the hedges, vortexing them in a whirlwind. Pink smoke curled from the nostrils of the dragon pipe as Kise revealed himself, exhaling another puff as he pointed towards Flint, directing his magic.

"Yo, Aominecchi! I came to help—"

"Fuck off, Kise!"

"Fuck off, you blonde fuck!"

"..."

A loud series of blasts from both cursing young men echoed with the attacks as the smoke was sent off into the heavens with a blast of a tailwind, sending the dirty-mouthed boys farther down the hedge and Kise in their dust.

"How mean!" The blonde pouted, as he clipped the pipe to his waist, twisting in his broom as he chased after them, to send his own set of curses in the fray at an opening from an irate Flint.

"Bakuhatsu!"

"KISE! YOU BLONDE SHIT, I TOLD YOU TO F—!"

But midway, Vukchanov stumbles in unsteadily on his broom, cutting in the two-three way fight.

The wayward explosion hit the Durmstrang flyby instead of Flint, clipping him at the tail end of his broom. Following with a little more grace as he idly eyed the now spinning top that was named Vukchanov, was a yawning Murasakibara, who was surrounded by his magic circle like a bubble.

(So cozy, Mukkun.)

"Ah. It's Kise-chin and Mine-chin. Kise-chin has such bad aim. He missed~"

"Even you are being mean to me, Murasakibacchi!" Kise pouts, even as he throws up a barrier to the curses that Aomine and Flint send wayward to them, not even looking their way. "Oh and sorry about your opponent! His face got in my way."

Sending a half-lidded eye at the coughing Durmstrang student that had finally stopped spinning by the second law of motion by crashing into a hedge with a silent groan, the giant replied with a sigh. "How boring."

"Wanna switch?" The blonde offered without a second thought.

"Nah. Aka-chin said no switching enemies. Plan."

With no change in tone or inflection, Murasakibara leaves in his glowing majesty, an idle hand shooting out to direct some bandages under his sleeves to bind the struggling Vukchanov, who cried out at the sticky restraints.

Dangerously close to the ground and farthest from the cup is Dimitrov, who was readying a counter to Midorima's wave of vines, when he feels his broom fall from between his legs. Reactively throwing his hands out to cushion his crash course with gravity, he manages to land on his feet with a loud curse beside the fallen broom, bewildered. 

"Wha— The FUCK?!"  Echoes someone... somewhere.

(Momoi giggles softly at Flint's pathetic form, face in the dirt and ass in the air.

No one in the audience notices, too busy watching the clash between Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory and Kise Ryota after running into the same dead end. Krum has his wand dangerously close to Diggory's nape while Kise looks cornered, but is too relaxed to believe that he has given up so easily.

A flurry of peach and rose petals prove their instincts true, as the Master weaves past them with a suave wave, coughing in his dust.

The irony does not escape the pink-haired girl.)

"Good reflexes. At least, not the worst." Looking up, Dimitrov meets green eyes of Midorima, who like the rest of them — The Durmstrang youth is making assumptions. — has found that his broom is suddenly of Muggle work and but unlike him, has caught himself on his magic circle, unruffled.

"Thanks?" Dimitrov eyes his present disqualification. "What the hell is going on?"

The Japanese younger sends him a look at the language but does not comment on it, instead he says. "It means that we no longer have to play this facade."

Excuse me?

Before Dimitrov can fully articulate his what-the-fuck-ness, he feels a prick to the neck from behind. The cold liquid is pumped into his flesh, icy pinpricks crawling over his spine and brain like prodding needles.

"Sweet dreams, Dimitrov-san." A bland voice echoes in his haze. Then nothing.

(On the other side of the tournament, Momoi and the rest of the awaiting audience hold their breaths at the sight of ruthless battles of the three teams, pitted against one another in a large finale.

It was the sight that they were there for, the vision that was the tournament of three wizarding schools, the best of the best of the generation performing their all.

Magic unbound and in a free-for-all.

Momoi's magenta eyes glossed with an opaque glow of a cintamani, witnessing and recording something completely different.)

A twitch first, then it becomes a jerk of the limbs, and finally, a full flinch before Harry Potter manages to open his eyes. He looks around, confused and realizing that he cannot move — arms bound to his sides, wand gone, back raw and on the ground, mouth silenced.

"As expected of the Chosen One." Kuroko hums. "The complex spell of your mother's sacrifice is indeed commendable."

Harry flinches again and looks up. The shadow looms above him, stoic.

The Boy Who Lived abruptly realizes that they are no longer at the hedge maze. Where the bloody hell were they?

Harry squirms, eyes glowing with questions, wary of any sudden moves.

Kuroko merely stares back.

Looking around, Harry gauges that he has been taken to misty field of sorts, bare yet obscured by thick fog. Naturally, this makes the source of light nearby be noticed first.

Lying a few feet away, is the untouched Triwizard Cup, ready to be won.

Right by an unconscious Cedric, tied up and mirroring Harry's own helpless state.

Harry turns his head right and left, green eyes wide as they adjusted to the murky air. Surrounding the cup, all the players of the two teams are in the same situation as his captain, bound. Krum limp against Flint, who has a welt by his temple. Montague and Johnson leaning against one another. Vukchanov and Dimitrov covered in splinters of twigs. Levsei, Zograf with Davis in a pile off to the side.

Despite being roughed up, they all looked relatively unharmed.

(Harry does not notice how pale they are. Nor how their chests do not move.)

"I apologize for my friends' rough handling," Kuroko admits, his monotone voice cold. "But as you can see, Harry-kun, we have relocated. Ah, please do not misunderstand, this destination was not our choice."

What? Then if it wasn't them, who...?

A rat scurries over, as Kuroko sidesteps for it to near. Beady black eyes gleaming and missing a toe.

Wait.

Harry Potter is unable to hold back his cold shock at the sight of Peter Pettigrew. The man who led his parents to the gates of hell, himself, bidding the reaper entry— Voldemort's most shrewd and cowardly servant confidently crawled out of his hole and finally, stood before him.

Struggling as anger boils in his form, Harry glares, green eyes burning.

(No one notices Kuroko is gone. Nor does anyone notice the other presences watching the Death Eater taunting his victim.)

"Harry Potter." Pettigrew purrs, twitching with a yellow smile, eyes glancing at the unmoved bindings despite the boy's attempts to be free. "A nostalgic sight, this one. To see you, surrounded by the dead. It has almost been fourteen years, James and sweet Lily."

Harry freezes at the mention of his parents before his eyes widen in horror, realizing the key in the rat's words.

The dead. He was surrounded by the dead? Who...?

Harry turns to each body and really looks at them, before looking at the reappeared phantom.

Kuroko tilts his head again in that unnerving way of his, dead eyes unfeeling against the glow of denial in green ones.

Then the darkness moves.

Shadows loom and pool at the phantom's call, gracefully bending to carefully string up the closest marionette into a macabre tune — they coo against Cedric's cold ear, fill his brown eyes with an unseeing white, inject his dead heart with black veins and then those icy blue lips open.

"Harry."

It is Cedric's voice, rich and gay yet with none of the warm of life. Instead, it is stilted and awkward.

The Boy Who Lived cannot look away.

Not with eleven other white gazes staring at him, coaxed by the Master in the darkness, hidden.

"Harry," They cry, black blood gushing from their mouths as they crawled towards him.

"Why weren't you fast enough?"

An Hour Ago, Triwizard Hedge Maze...

It is unnerving, to put plainly.

Even to Bartemius, the younger, who witnessed unspeakable things in the gallows of Azkaban — the way the darkness sang and cackled against the alabaster skin of this young man, at the very least, even his Lord had to use a medium to command the same element to his whims. But this was as natural as a dementor within the shadows in their soul-sucking glory.

As deadly as the mortal action of affection that was their method of feed.

To watch the bodies of the eliminated be forcefed the shadows, possessing the flesh as black veins flowed the infection throughout — the Death Eater realizes that the Japanese did not need restrictions on The Unforgivable Curses like the British.

Instead, it was on the individuals themselves.

(No wonder they were thrown away.

No, that was not right. They were sent away. Because they were too much for their own government to handle.)

The Death Eater is sure of this and then it is reinforced with the next observation — the phantom player reveals a set of syringes on his person and two vials, labeled in clear Japanese characters and an English translation.

The Sleeping Death (Hogwarts), 10%

The Sleeping Death (Durmstrang), 12%

Before sticking the filled needle into a vein of Angelina Johnson, the girl contorting in a soundless and mindless scream under the restraints of a pitch-black magic circle with a new moon, bare and empty. Even as binding talismans snake over to stop Zograf from instinctively biting his own tongue, the delicate teen does not flinch.

Crouch finds himself breaking the silence involuntarily. "What did you do to them?"

A blank stare finds him, as the latest addition, a limp and now-black veined, Cedric Diggory flops to the ground. "I injected them with our version of the Draught of Living Death. Unlike yours, ours is rather fatal."

Bartemius flinches, having enough mind to whisper-yell. "W-What?!"

Fuck. His Lord and Master explicitly said that none of them could die until after Potter was Portkeyed to him. How could he have failed his Lord when He was one cusp of retur—

"What does it matter to you if they die?" Kuroko interrupts calmly from his broom, replacing his needles and vials. "How kind of you, people of the West. To be so sentimental of your enemies, believing that the greatest mercy in war is the worst punishment. If you are that concerned for the well being of your enemies, I assure you, I had made it relatively painless."

The Death Eater stares back against the dead sky globes, stunned.

(The silent scream, the convulsing spasms, and the bulging veins after injecting them was similar to the symptoms of Cruciatus, and yet, this was considered painless?)

Bartemius feels cold trepidation against his skin before sighing. "My Master, He needs Potter alive."

"I am aware of Voldemort-san's needs, Moody-sensei. However, as opposed to your Imperious Curse, my reborn shadow puppets will be more effective." Kuroko hums, not looking at the man. Instead, he pulls out another talisman, sky-blue eyes alight in the eerie fog. "In securing your living potion ingredient."

Kuroko, an hour later, stares as the same ingredient breaks down in guilt at the spectacle prepared just for him. Turning away, the phantom adjusts his gaze, as the shadows coo at the small robed figure, malnourished and so weak.

Almost across the river, the pitiful creature did not have long.

But it could not die.

It was an abomination that went against nature.

It did not deserve to die.

It deserved to suffer.

Chapter Text

Amongst the watchers of the mild hiatus in the maze, there are several figures who have suddenly stiffened in their chairs.

This is because a saccharine voice that pierces their minds at that moment, breaking through the mental shields of Occlumency with the ease of a passing wind.

Good morning. I am Momoi Satsuki, please do not move and do not make anyone realize that I am speaking to you. We do not want to ruin the festivities for everyone in the Third Task, do we? The manager smiles in her tone. As current professors and former students, I would assume that you all are well versed in such a valuable skill. Isn't it so easy, just to sit there and listen?

A pause.

(Amos Diggory looks at McGonagall with mild confusion at the sudden flash of concern in her eyes. But he sees how Harry barely missed being eliminated by a passing curse and thinks nothing more of it.

Instead, he claps when one of the Slytherin boys manages to knock off one of the Durmstrang boys from their broom, cheering with the rest of the crowd.)

Ah. And if you find yourself unable to recall such a common self-preservation skill, please do not fret. As manager, it is my job to be aware that there may be unplanned events that take place, no matter how well you prepare. She assures with a light laugh before it returns to eased professionalism.

Please direct your attention to your respective beloved students— or in the case for you, our very busy Minister Fudge, your own abdomen, we cannot have you have any ideas of causing a scene with amputation, no matter how voluntary, you understand— I have done the service of attaching an imperfect curse. It is located at your most vital organs and I assure you, no matter how fast you think you maybe, my decision to cause you bodily harm is faster.

Unlike the magic of the West, a curse of the East is not a trivial set of words that just sends physical pain, lasting for a short duration of time. There is no mocking yet it drips with condescend. No, this particular curse will only activate in certain terms — terms that I, the Tasai of Omoikane, who is our Japanese god of Wisdom and Torture, has configured to be in relation to your actions — or rather, the need for your inaction at this very moment.

Please consider for a moment, the consequences of your disobedience, with the knowledge that our magic promises fatal. Ah, most of the time.

(Snape meets eyes with Dumbledore, doubt aglow. But tellingly does not move.

From the other side of the crowd, Matsumoto is stiff, but outwardly calm as he does not look to Momoi, beside him.

Their Headmaster was always smart when it mattered the most.)

Magenta eyes hide into half-moon curves, as Momoi smiles wide.

Some of you may — no, do doubt me. It is fine. It is within expectations for skepticism. The manager assets, cool but she laughs breathily. Please try it. I dare you.

(Some are better actors than others. Some flinch minutely, unnoticed. Others sweat beadily. Only three do not stray from their nonchalance of acting. But none of them dare.)

I am above the need to goad you all into believing me. Momoi states with a casualness that could not be faked. It matters not, whether or not, you believe me. I have no qualms in dirtying my hands in young blood. It is not the first, nor will it be the last. All I have asked is for you all is to remain still as you have for the past fourteen years.

(The West all flinch.)

And for you, our dearest Headmaster, to be as you were for these past three — in this hour.

Momoi looks at Matsumoto, pearly teeth gleaming in the fog.

And if you, Headmaster, cannot adhere to the request, well, it will not be my clansmen who will bleed all at once. Please do not assume I am kindhearted enough to kill you first. My boys are more courteous than I, they would have given you a chance to play amongst the panic as you die.

I... in the other hand, am not so merciful to let my prey die so easily.

So, please decide quickly and wisely.

The silence between the intended audience is hard of hearing but is telling in the unanimous agreement.

Now that we have gotten our greetings out of the way, allow me to inform you all of the details. Momoi snaps her fingers as one of her subordinates hands her a bracelet of onyx beads, rolling them.

(Given the signal, the Third Seat and Fourth Seat under the Master of Magical History nods to the rest of their Second String, all darting off under the stands, weaving past the wooden beams to their designated positions.

Planting themselves for the next motion of the plan, they pull out several talismans, characters painted delicately with blood.

Centered on one word — mirror.) 

Hm, that is not right. Momoi pouts cutely, her tone happy-go-lucky in her airy cheerfulness.

(Dumbledore hides his impressed hum while Fudge shivers full-bodied, a seat behind him. Kingsley would not have believed that the girl was just as formidable as the young men she took care of, if not, for the voice in his head.

Snape glares annoyedly but a sliver of admiration for the cunning display glows while McGonagall is stiff beside him, eyeing the not-far-away Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, the closest Gryffindors to her.

Flitwick twitches but like Sprout, they are not stupid, and stay still.

How telling.)

It's more of a show and tell type of activity. She smiles innocently.

None of them believe her.

(they shouldn't have from the very beginning. how fucking naive.)

Before the darkness sets in and takes them to a graveyard.

In the Beginning of the School Year...

Murasakibara feels the thrum of godly power, rippling through the cherry wood and the blessed carvings — the craftsmanship the very best money could buy under the Akashi name. Sacred beasts, youkai and symbols of the Shinto gods in hidden yet elegant splendor, it was the ideal place for any Eastern wizard escape and counter with home turf advantage.

The ship was as blessed as any shrine, not to mention the presence of so many Tasai and subsequent descendants. Even practitioners under the Dark Arts would have been relatively fine as most Dark Arts in the consideration of the international stage was mostly approved in Japanese mythos.

All but one.

Kuro-chin would have found the prison that they would call home for the following year excruciating to be at, nevermind use any Dark Arts, if he had not taken the Regeneration Elixir every other day.

The British had a similar version, called the same name outside of the potion terminology instead of an elixir — but the main difference laid in the reputation. While the Dark Potion was a creation intended for more sinister purposes, the East had a more practical application for it as a healing item that had three subtypes of effectiveness.

There was the common drinkable liquid form, the to-go salve form, and finally, the regeneration pill form.

For internal injuries, external injuries and soul injuries respectively.

Of course, it was not a heal-all medication. But a mere nudge for the body to heal itself, similar to a kick-start to begin the natural healing process.

Rolling over his inventory mentally, Murasakibara eyes his equipment.

Kuro-chin was taking more and more lately.

Side effects of the elixir were generally mild but due to being a Master of Dark Arts, a natural part of life, but so rejected by the gods — effects were exaggerated with the phantom. In other words, it was worse.

The nightmares were night terrors. The lack of sleep was full-on insomnia. The increased bleeding meant that blood poured out and did not clot until at least an entire hour. The glow of health meant that the effectiveness of the Dark Arts was even more weakened because of how full of life the user was.

This would not do, child.

Agreeing with a hum as he lifts his goggles, Murasakibara writes up a report to Aka-chin of his findings with one conclusion — Kuro-chin needed to retire to Yomi for several hours, every few weeks at the very least, if he wanted his crazy plan to succeed.

Fifteen minutes later, Kuro-chin was in Yomi, a portal slitted open with the most powerful guard stationed outside, unable to ever step foot due to his holy liege. Mine-chin grumbles and complains like a moron but the envy in his eyes as Murasakibara climbs through the portal is obvious. 

But that was the way of the warrior, just how Kise-chin covered up his emotions with a smile. Mine-chin acts like no one is worth his time.

Just like how he was the only who ever understood Kuro-chin in everything else.

Because his goddess had died once before.

Slain by the god of thunder and storms, himself, plunging the world in darkness over her death as Amaterasu mourned the goddess, angered by the actions of her younger brother.

He understood the need, no, the want to live peacefully to not have all the noisy chatter of mortal pursuits to ruin it all.

Still in his lab clothes, the giant is silent as he watches Kuro-chin sleep in the arms of his half-dead goddess, looking more like a zombie than an ethereal being. His friend is paler, skinnier and the purplish bruises under his eyes seemed to lighten — all good signs.

Ironic, but none of them never claimed to be above hypocrisy.

"This one greets Izanami-sama." Murasakibara hums, inclining his head. Uke-Mochi hums her own greeting behind him, afloat in the miasmic air of Yomi.

"Child." She nods to him before looking at the younger goddess. "Death suits you, little goddess."

Unlike her beautiful appearance of a hale woman, his goddess bears the appearance of a freshly slain corpse, sliced diagonally that her intestines and internal organs spill from split open ribs and sinew. Blood drips from her purple yukata, frayed and seeped in crimson as her jaw is broken open to dangle.

It was how she was when she died and was her appearance in Yomi for eternity. Every dead was the same, bearing the appearance of the master who never hid her ugliness, not ever since her cowardly husband recoiled in fear of her.

"Many thanks, Izanami." The other goddess replies breathily, unbothered. "Do not fret, this one and I will not be long in your realm."

"State your business."

"I want to know." Murasakibara cuts in, violet gaze cool and half-lidded before one of the oldest gods of the Shinto mythos. Aka-chin did not bow to gods yet he bowed to Kuro-chin. Murasakibara knew why and respected them too much to counter the sentiment even when out of sight and mind. "How long is this?"

He points to Kuro-chin.

"How long do I have to feed my pills for him to survive in this twisted version of Hanketsu?"

Because that was the crazy plan of Aka-chin right there in the bare bones.

The government promised them emancipation for their shadow to never be imprisoned in any sacred ground in exchange for their allegiance therefore, allowing them to be used as tools after being sent off into the foreign nation of Britain. Their  gamble was that any place that was blessed by the gods was a sacred ground, and the Diet did not know that the other five of them knew how to summon their gods at will — much less, ask (though, it was more through a demand on their part) them to bless their wing of the ship.

Only Nakamura, a smart insect who knew to pick sides, knew that.

And he wasn't stupid enough to tell the ones marked for death that they had tightened the noose.

"A lunar year." She answers, black bone hand cradling an orange Sayuri, blooming in the crown of dark flowers on her temple. "A full lunar year is the shortest term of Hanketsu to make that Word of yours with the other children be null and void. Unlike your goddess and the rest of your friends' gods, boy, I am not restricted in informing you, since you are not my Tasai nor did I give my Word to you."

"Then Sat-chin..." Murasakibara begins as she nods.

"That girl too is exempted with that little god of hers." Izanami crushes the blossom in her fist, disintegrating into ashes. "Have her do any discreet actions that you need as I am sure, the red child of my step-daughter's has already deduced. The rest of you merely need to play along for the year. Play, and never blink. Never look back and take what you want."

And play along they did.

Through the First and Second Task, they played and won recognition.

Through their invitation to the Yule Ball, they found the secrets of the British Ministry and handed it over to their future superiors.

Through classes and living the mundane life of students, they fooled the ones who believed that the Tasai of this generation were capable of being controlled.

(shackled and collared in the prison made by his friends, Kuroko laughs in his chambers, emptily and airily at the foolishness of trying to tear him from them. when will they learn, he coos, that their obsession was never one-sided.)

Izanami gives him her Word, but exchange, she wants him to consider it. Even after all this time, she cannot understand the loyalty of her chosen child — asking him to think of abandoning his friends for his own sake. Slumbering under the Black Lake is not the first time, but it is the last, because she knows just as well as he, that with the end of the Second Task, all the cards are in their hand.

They only needed to lure, then. That was why Bagman and Skeeter were so perfect.

(Kise smiles prettily, when he whispers promises and secrets.

The very mortal Rita Skeeter cannot hope to resist.)

Killing two birds with a stone, it made the British government come in and notified the Japanese one that their future pawns had finally made their move — the cicada, the mantis and they, the oriole from behind the entire time.

Nakamura, the Diet and their government along with the British were their audience.

Of course, no plan was perfect. So, measures were made.

If the missing Bagman and Skeeter did not measure up, then their blackmailed Chang would play the missing school girl. Because who could ignore the prospect of a student going missing in Hogwarts, under the greatest Headmaster?

Dumbledore nor could Fudge afford such a blow now. Not when they were playing pretend.

("Isn't it funny, Shintarou? How much they dance?"

"As if, why would I care?"

A hum. "Indeed, we don't. But our Prime Minister's little plaything will. So worried over her brother."

"Foolish girl. She would have been protected if she hadn't ran off with her brother, exchanging secrets for citizenship. Our nation was never one who tolerated traitors. Blood or not.")

The girl could have quietly attended Hogwarts with Diggory, if she was not so bitter over her older brother — revealing her weakness like a fool. Instead, she only allowed the Diet to kidnap her brother as blackmail, feeding Momoi the plans of the Hogwarts' team and be an accomplice.

But alas, the British were predictable and played nicely into their hands.

Like Nakamura, Fudge was a coward but he was not a bad figure to have in charge, at least not for the seven of them. Unlike Dumbledore, the man was not manipulative for the sake of others but for himself, which made him astronomically easier to have as Minister. There was a reason why Dumbledore was a Headmaster and the Chief Warlock, instead of Minister. As kind as the man appeared to be, he was also very dangerous and powerful and the man could not afford to lose that false mask just yet.

But he moves for others, at the expense of others.

("What an ass."

Kise flicks a pen at him, laughing when he nails him in the arm. Aomine throws a book at him, smirking when he hears a yelp from the blonde.

"Allowing sacrifices, where had we heard that one before? All for the greater good." Kise agrees with him, grinning crookedly with the suaveness of a swan. "How disgusting."

"Even that scum of a human, Matsumoto is not that revolting."

"Even with what he did to us?"

Aomine scoffs. "At least he knew we were powerful enough to counter whatever the fuck we were getting into. These Hogwarts' kids are so sheltered they've never considered that shouting the spell you are going use a disadvantage. This Headmaster of theirs lets them roam with a murderer, while teaching them to shout that they are going to stab someone as they are going to do it."

"And what moron is going to stand there and let them?" Kise finishes.

The Tasai of Warriors growls. "You don't do that unless you want them to be killed. That Headmaster of theirs wants a war to begin, himself and that Moldy fucker on either sides. And that livestock in between is the keg.")

It is the little things that reveals the true nature of a person and Dumbledore is no different. His pet is a phoenix, a being that dies and is reborn again, time after time.

Lives are insignificant if it births new ones.

So, when Akashi comes to ask for the delivery of a high demanding potion ingredient in exchange for another unruly student that had slipped from his fingers over thirty years ago, the man trades a boy's life for a monster's.

That would be underestimating the Chief Warlock too much, however.

His requirement was no member of the Hogwarts and Durmstrang team was to be killed.

Harry Potter was not a member of the Hogwarts team. At least, not originally.

Akashi Seijuurou's goddess gives her Word.

(Amaterasu does not look down on Dumbledore nor meet him with equal standing. Instead, she hovers her manicured hand over Akashi's golden eye that matches her own before disappearing.

Her actions make it clear, it is Akashi that has her at his beck-and-call, not the other way around.

She gives her Word, because he asks for it.)

Therefore, it is here that she stands in the Room of Requirement, Cho Chang stares blankly with the rest of the Dark Arts' students, who are similarly of Asian descent — surrounding three Murasakibara and Midorima warded glass boxes that contained three groups of people: the Hogwarts Team, Durmstrang Team and the missing Skeeter shared with Bagman.

Yes, Kuroko lied. It was Akashi-kun who gave his Word, not him. So, why would he tell them truth?

But like he had said, what did he care of keeping honor between enemies? What was this sentiment between enemies to not kill their young? What was the need to live with caring of the well-being of those against him? What were they to him?

To tell the truth, to live in such a way, was a way to be killed.

Enemies lie. The young grew to be strong. Caring for your enemy was an opening that could be exploited. They were not people who he was supposed to understand. 

Why? When clearly they didn't have the same sentiments?

Besides, if Momoi's suggestion for their lovely audience decided if they were trigger happy, these three boxes were the best. Cho was not stupid, even if she was not privy to the plans in detail. She suspected none of them were, because there was no need to when your subordinates were blindly loyal. But she understood what the people contained in there were.

Hostages.

Insurance for compliance if the lives of the students before their audience were not enough.

Then what of your cream of the crop children? What of the ones who are the shining light of the parents before you? Do you dare to kill them before their very parents by being unable to swallow your foolish pride?

They wouldn't dare.

("It is so much easier to kill from a distance. But what of before the family that will feel the repercussions hardest?" Momoi smiles at Midorima. "Humans are such social beings of such empathy. How could they, Midorin?"

Midorima huffs. "That much is obvious. And I would hardly think that Fudge would be swayed by that even then. He has the illusion that he is Minister and will be able to stomach it."

"Not if I won't let him, literally." Momoi hums, eyes cold.

It is moments like these that makes Midorima wonder if Momoi was truly a bad cook or it was on purpose.)

Cho glances at the Dark Arts students, silent but overbearing like their Master yet not quite as invisible. They would not be here if Cedric and the others were dead. There was no point in guarding dead people outside of not allowing them to be found, instead, their Master ordered them to be here with her.

She was the same as them. A hostage, blackmailed and awake, but one nonetheless.

Cho had no illusions that she was above that. Rather, if she tried anything, her brother would be killed by the government she had tried to escape and she would end up as still as Cedric and the rest. Or worse.

Because they were not dead. The Draught of Living Death in Britain, but in Mahoutokoro, it is the Sleeping Death.

Asleep as if they were dead.

Kuroko had no use for dead puppets to play to his song, if he needed such dolls, he could have summoned them from the earth. But the mindset of a young Harry Potter, who is hopeful of life, is unblemished and most importantly, malleable. Just like his friends when the gods whispered in their ears years ago.

So, he just made them die for a little bit.

Because what was a little trauma for a pig that was going to be slaughtered in the end anyway?

("Me?"

"You'll be the best for the role, Kurokocchi!" Kise bounces at the balls of his heels. "You're already a ghost to that bug-eyed professor lady! So, you being the messenger to Moldy fetus' goons will fit right in! Akashicchi said that I'm just the middle man for you to play with them a bit."

"And your image is already scary and creepy to them." Aomine offers his two cents.

"Please do not press your own image onto mine, Aomine-kun."

"Excuse the fuck me?"

"Kuro-chinnn~ don't tell Mine-chinnn~"

"Don't tell me WHAT."

"You're the definition of scary and creepy, you aho. With your tall stature and perverse fixation for female appendages obviously."

"You and Murasakibara are fucking taller than me, you fucking bastard."

"That's what you focus on Aominecchi?")

However, that was not the only reason for the lives of Durmstrang and Hogwarts to be spared. In the end, it comes down to the need for convenience — if they died, of course, it could have been blamed on Voldyshorts and his kinky goons. Hell, it could have even been blamed as a tournament tragedy and they would have been a recent footnote in the history books with a pat in the back of 'oh, well?'

But there was a better and more motivating option. Blame the foreigner.

If Durmstrang was also killed, they were also a victim. So, it couldn't be them. Then it only came down to Mahoutokoro who could not be washed from the incident if they died. And none of them were willing to commit social suicide for all of their subordinates in such a way — the world was vast yet so small.

There may come a day when they needed to bow to their enemies if they were not careful.

Therefore, the students needed to be spared, to not give justification for the Ministry to determine them to be greater threat than they already were.

For they were already wary due to the threats from Momoi prior to the Third Task — for their Christmas excursion was not in vain. Not when the Ministry had confirmed this breach of the most sensitive of information during the Third Task.

And information was crucial in negotiations, it gave leverage and room of choice.

(Akashi raises his glasses, throwing a file before him.

Yesterday, Momoi delivered files of all relevant members of Britain into the large pile. Aomine, who was leaning against the wooden desk, cranes his head to see the one picked and blinks at the aged man, skin sallow and wrinkled.

"G-Gellert Grindelwald?" The name is foreign in his tongue, still unused to the new language. "Who the fuck is this?"

"A could-have been."

Aomine repeats the sentence in his head. "Like those Uncrowned Generals or whatever?"

Akashi nods. "This one is Tom Riddle's, like they are ours."

"So, why the hell do I have to pay this old man a visit if he's just a could-have been?"

"To confirm something for me."

Despite his complaints and grumbles, the tanned male fiddles with fingerless gloves, pulling them on as two katanas dangle at his waist and multiple knives strapped to his long legs. "Hn. Anything in particular, you want to know?"

Akashi smiles. "Not at all. So, just do as usual, Daiki. Momoi will send you the details via text."

With a careless thumbs-up, the ace disappears.)

Because the seven of them had grounds to go many directions.

There was the British government, who would want their silence on their information. Then there was the Japanese one that had sent them there for that information in the first place — to which they neglected to give all the information, any fool that gave up all of their advantage was a stupid that had shot themselves on the foot, who wanted all of that information.

Then there was the wrinkled fetus that called himself the Dark Lord.

It couldn't be that he was opposed to having all the confidential information of the Ministry of Magic of his nation.

Presented to Voldemort, who basked in his newly resurrected form, Kuroko ignored the gaping from Harry Potter and the smell of fear dripping from the boy — Akashi stands just as resolutely, with the others surrounding having courteously broken down the current situation for their audience to understand.

(Momoi gasps and comments at the right moments in their heads, all frozen as Akashi explains them in excruciating detail.

As shocking as it is for all of our champions to die outside of my boys and Harry Potter and that your Dark Lord has returned from your Jenga tower of lies, please remember that these events are not yours to interfere. This is a show, after all.

A clap of hands. The oblivious cheers of the surrounding schools drown it out as it deafens the captives.

We haven't even gotten to the climax yet!)

"... that is the current situation, as I congratulate you on your successful body regeneration." Akashi sees the snake half-blood's gaze on his phantom. "As you can see, my Tetsuya is resourceful."

"... yes, he is, isn't he?" The bald figure that terrorized Great Britain smiles widely, voice soft as silk. "Akashi Seijuurou, was it? I have heard many good things of you. Pureblood. Genius. Ruthless. Chosen of the Gods. Captain of the Miracles. What a reputation."

"The pleasure is mine." Akashi meets the smile with one of his own, seemingly unarmed while Voldemort held his yew wand. Not exactly in attack or defense, but if the youth is unnerved, he does not show it. "Your own reputation also speaks for it's self."

"Enough small talk, young Akashi." The Dark Lord cuts with a sharp tone in his voice. "What do you want? Why the elaborate scheme?"

Akashi laughs. "Please do not misunderstand. I do not want anything from you."

Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Younger blinks. "What?"

Murasakibara sighs with Midorima while Kise hears something like 'The fucking mold is even hard at hearing. No wonder he needed to break his soul. Fucker would be dead by now.' from Aomine and giggles.

Akashi eyes him like he is particularly stupid while Kuroko manages to be mocking in his silence.

"Me and the rest of Mahoutokoro have no quarrel nor diplomacy with Tom Marvolo Riddle and his faction of Death Eaters." The emperor spells out, his heterochromic gaze cold.

"Then, why bring me Harry Potter?" The Lord asks, intrigued.

"Do not act as though you would be standing here without us doing that." Midorima huffs, hands free of bandages. "And you all are so sentimental of your enemies here. First, that professor and now even their Dark Lord, too absorbed in the relishing to even finish the job."

"Now, Shintarou, we cannot expect too much from our hosts." Akashi scolds lightly before answering the question. "We did not necessarily bring him to you for you to have. Merely, you required his blood to be reformed so to have a conversation, we merely brought him along."

So, he is literally a mere potion ingredient to them. Voldemort hums to himself. Harry. He is not even human in their eyes.

"Then why are you here if you had no business with me?" The older man smirks. "Could it be perchance, that you wish to join me?"

Harry Potter shivers at the offer.

He is ignored.

"Hard fucking pass." Aomine curses before nodding at Akashi. "I serve only one crazy fucker and it does not involve a baldy with a bad nose job."

Before Voldemort can conjecture that it was an insult and with a mortified squeak from Pettigrew, Kise shrugs from his perch of a weathered tombstone. "We wanted to see what your version of the Regeneration Elixir was. A bit dramatic in the last bit but it did the job for the most part. Except the nose."

"Wait, Kise-chin~" Murasakibara cuts in, making Voldemort turn to him, yawning beside Midorima. "I didn't see it."

"You didn't, Atsushi?" Akashi hums, looking mildly distressed but his eyes were cold as they turn to Voldemort. Snake eyes see the wand hidden in the captain's sleeve. "What shall we do? Do you have any suggestions, Shintarou?"

No. It wasn't just Harry. Voldemort realizes. These brats. They didn't see much of anyone as a lifeform. Not even him.

Rainbow gazes turn to the lone Dark Lord, who quickly picks up the tension, a cowering Pettigrew behind him as he backs up. Harry stares at the reversal with wide eyes, conflicted on whether to cheer on the Mahoutokoro students that killed Krum, Cedric and the others and was about to the same to Voldemort.

Hello again, Harry-kun. Kuroko's voice echoes in his head. Please do not move. I promise under the Word of my goddess, that Diggory-san and the rest of the Durmstrang team are alive — what you saw was the result of an injected hallucinogen. I apologize once again for the manhandling and the wound on your person, but please be understanding they were required for the situation.

You—! Harry swallows his clusterfuck of emotions; relief, anger, pain and sweet relaxing assurance that he was going to live before answering back with a spiteful tone. You and your friends owe me a better explanation. But for now, that will do.

Kuroko does not even look back at him as dark figures in the shadows begin to form, and become corporeal — Death Eaters. I need you to be ready when you see the signal, Harry-kun.

Fine. Whatever. Harry agrees without thinking, internally bitching about the wound on his arm when blinks in realization. Wait. What signal?

But no answer is given to him.

Because no one fucking cares anymore when there is the sight of six different magic circles illuminating the graveyard, facing off against the newly resurrected Dark Lord. 

Chapter Text

All six circles spin ominously underfoot of the Japanese wizards, five full and with an incomplete moon orbiting them. The other was hollowed, eclipsed to be an afterimage rather than a celestial form.

But no one dared to move.

Red serpent eyes studied young heterochromic ones, yew wand pointed at the youth's throat. The said youth was calm under the mercy of the Dark Lord and had yet to pull out his own wand — instead of begging for his life, Akashi does the last thing anyone sane would think to do.

He turns away and smiles.

"Momoi. Pull the curtains."

With the order from Akashi, the captive audience for the Third Task receives the warning a moment earlier than the rest as the sight of the graveyard fades, but it does nothing to stop the sudden sight of a large, seated assembly in place of the heated Third Task. Instead of Harry Potter nearly winning the cup, it is the view of inside the Japanese Diet Building, every seat was filled with a young student stood by every one of them, the latter bound and gagged in some form.

Confused was the audience, but one thing was clear, the students that seemed to be in charge wore the same uniform that they had seen for the past year.

Mahoutokoro.

And at the highest seat where the Prime Minister of the Japanese Ministry of Magic usually stood to address the Diet — is a smirking Haizaki, using the Prime Minister, Nakamura, as a chair.

"Satsuki," Haizaki hums, grey hair returned and black eyes cold despite his smile as he turns to the rest of the crowd, confused as they looked to Momoi and back to the young man. Under him, the prime minister shakes, straining under the weight. "And guests."

A red tongue curls at the shocked audience's confusion. "Alive, at that." 

The youth turns back to the manager. "Being at a foreign land making you soft?"

("What the hell is going on?" Amos Diggory says aloud as Hermione and Ron look towards their professors.

There is no answer to the overarching question.

Hermione sees the trepidation in Fudge's eyes and the stiffness of McGonagall's form, but does not see the cause. Instead, she is confused. What was happening? What was this? Who was that boy? And Satsuki, wasn't that the manager of the Mahoutokoro team? What about the Task? What about Harry and the others?

But before her questions could be answered, a soft laugh echoed from the Mahoutokoro side of the audience.

Hermione looked over and froze.

It was empty.

Outside of two people, the said manager and their Headmaster.

Where the hell did the rest of the school go?)

Momoi smiles icily with an airy giggle, eyes cold. "As if."

Dropping the smile with a bold scowl, she glances to her left, many of the students and various parents sensing that there was something off, despite not understanding the conversation between the two. "Do not bother. Unless you wish to see your Minister and your champions be cursed to the excruciating pain of your Torture Curse whenever they as much as think of casting any form of magic — your best of the best be forced to never use magic again, albeit, at a cost. If any of you as much as stand up."

All of the persons outside of Mahoutokoro freeze.

"Lies!" One of the parents of the Hogwarts' team, Johnson, shouts aloud, the first to recover. But he does not dare to stand. "We just saw them on the screens!"

More protests, steeled by the Durmstrang Headmaster's confidence, echo and grow in number as certain persons remain completely still. Hermione, Ron, Malfoy, and the rest of the students eye at their professors uncomfortably — noting how they do not speak up.

"That?" Momoi raises an eyebrow, unbothered by the wands pointed at her as Haizaki chuckles at their panicked antics. "That feed hasn't been accurate for most of the Task. In that time since they entered, none of you have seen your representatives alive."

With a snap of her fingers, one of the screens changes to a familiar yet completely new room. It was clearly within Hogwarts but exactly where, did not come to mind to any of them. But what did register was the unconscious forms of the two fore-mentioned teams, unconscious and very much within reach to be killed by nearby figures with wands pointed at them.

"Harry isn't there." Hermione hisses at Ron before turning to the manager, standing. "Where is Harry?"

Momoi pauses her wand against her lip from her idle tapping. "Sit down."

"Not until you tell us where Harry is."

Magenta eyes were calm. "Sit down." A pause. "I will not warn you again, Granger. Sit. Down."

"'Mione." Ron pulls her down but the girl resists, her expression stubborn.

"No! We don't know what the hell—"