A Dementor's Kiss - Phan

Trolls and Tribulations

Dan laughed, laying his head on Phil's shoulder. "I love you, by the way. I haven't said it in a while and I just wanted to make sure you hadn't forgotten."

Phil's cheeks lifted into a wide, pink smile. "You're not so bad yourself."

~

The inn had a muggle phone connection and the three purebloods practically wet themselves as Dan called home to belatedly let his mum know he'd arrived safe.

"Luna's pining for you. For a cat that can disappear for days on end without so much as a note, she sure does kick up a fuss when you take a holiday. And there's some post for you."

Dan frowned. "Is everything ok?" He asked his mum. "You sound upset."

"Really? No, everything's fine. Just a bit stressed with work. I'm tired, that's all."

"It's a Saturday. You shouldn't be doing any work on a Saturday." Dan scolded.

"Welcome to the real world, sweetheart."

Dan could hear his own sarcasm in his mother's voice and he smiled. "Don't worry. I'm going to get really rich really soon and then you can retire."

"I've seen your money," his mum laughed. "Can you imagine me plonking dirty great slabs of gold down on the counter at Tesco?"

"We do have exchange places, mum. We're not completely uncivilised."

"There you go again. Us and you. We're all humans, aren't we?"

Dan felt the familiar twist of guilt in his stomach. It was so normal for him to separate the worlds of wizards and muggles, for they had to be separate in order to coexist; but where the lines greyed this didn't seem like such an elegant solution.

"You're my son," Dan's mum carried on quietly. "I know you're different, but you're still my boy. It hurts when you talk to me like I'm a different species."

A part of Dan wanted to scream but you are, but he knew that wasn't really true. His mother had carried him and given birth to him, the reason for the difference wasn't his magical ability. He was as human as anyone else. It was the separation of the communities so long ago that had caused them to evolve independently or, in the case of the wizarding world, not at all. They still used quills and ink, for Christ's sake. They were different worlds. And Dan had lives in both.

After showering and changing into shorts, the boys took to the skies. It was a bit chaotic with so many brooms in the air. A whole school trip from Mahoutokoro had commandeered two pitches and one of the younger students nearly crashed into Dan after being knocked wheeling off course by a bludger. She yelled what Dan assumed was an apology before diving straight back into the action. The hardcore of their players were all wearing Japan's national team's white and red robes, bearing their emblem: a white circle with a green outer rim, inside of which a red dragon roared with its claw upon a Quaffle.

"I went to Japan for a World Cup game with my dad when I was little," Chris informed the boys as they searched for a game to join. "It's really beautiful. It's next to a massive Sengoku-era castle and there's sakura trees all around, you know the pink cherry blossom? We were in these gorgeous pagoda towers and it's like here, the pitch is over a koi pond instead of grass. I don't know why everyone doesn't do it. The reflections in the water of the players and stuff."

"It's because back in England it's usually too cloudy," PJ laughed. "Water is clear. It's only blue when it reflects the colour of the sky, it would just like we were playing over a muddy puddle."

"Yeah," Chris said ruefully. "England's pretty rubbish."

They found a German group playing Stitchstock and watched for a while. Dan had read about the game, one of the early originators of Quidditch, but never seen it played. It seemed fun to play but there wasn't enough going on to make it a good spectator sport.