9

---Moscow, Russia--20th, August 1933—

Emrys couldn't possibly believe it- it felt too good to be true, yet he was… at the Quidditch world cup, the 115th one. It was the final match between Spain and Georgia, and he was getting to see it in person- oohhh, how he loved being a part of a wealthy and influential family. It was not too long ago he became an avid fan of the sport.

This year of 1933, the Quidditch match was being held in Russia.

It was as though he had forgotten the magical sport existed, but then again, there wasn't much going through his mind when he first arrived in this world of magic. He was more interested in taking the naps he longed for in his past life. He loved them because in this life, well, at least in his early years, he could do it freely without being scolded for being 'lazy'.

Watching Harry Potter flying on a broom was memorising. It's a flying broom. Watching it on screen was very much different seeing it in person, like come on! Who wouldn't want to fly! He loved the sport as much as his previous self loved football.

His father had been invited personally by their minister of magic, Hector Fawley. He is close friends with his father, Atticus Caddell. He was pretty sure Kester was here somewhere too, though with his friends, and Emrys was sure his wife was with him. He knew Kester and Cassiopeia were planning on staying in Russia for another after the quidditch match.

They've been travelling a lot since they got married.

Emrys and his father were strolling around the shopping district. Salespeople walked around them, shouting their wares and holding trays full of merchandise, while others pushed carts laden with fantastic souvenirs and tokens ranging from scarves to models of famous players. House-elves flitted around, perusing the various stalls, while the crowd gave a wide berth to a party of goblins.

Emrys stopped, taking in the sight of the fantastic magical wares and attractions. One of these attractions caught his eye. They resembled binoculars, perfect! If needed, he can use them when they get to the top box. "Father? What are they!" he asked the man.

"Omnioculars, young lad- they replay the action and can slow it down for you. There's also a play by play function, very useful- a must-have!" it wasn't his father that answered him but the sales wizard who had overheard him.

He looked up at his father expectantly. He swore he saw the man smile. His father looked to the salesman, "How much?" he asked, and the sales wizard grinned gleefully. "Ten galleons each, sir."

Damn- that was like 50 euros roughly.

"Give me two", his father responded, not reactive to the price that was just called out.

He grinned, holding onto the bi- omnioculars.

He lowered the object as he stared in awe. Before them, loomed the Quidditch World Stadium, it was massive! Golden light illuminated the endless walls, set round in an oval shape. They headed closer. He was practically jogging, trying to keep up with his father's long strides… though he felt slightly awkward seeing as they were walking right past the lines of people. As they got to the front, his father immediate should her his ticket.

"Top Box, then. Go straight ahead." Announced the Ministry Official. It was a long walk to the top, though Emrys found it enjoyable with the comfortable conversations he had with his father on the way. It was often they'd be alone like this. The man was usually too busy for the family.

The entire stadium was packed with nosy fans and spectators. People frantically waved flags and signs.

They were so high up. They finally neared the Top Box, which was the most elevated section within the VIP section. The box was set at a vantage point where they had a panoramic view of the stadium and the gigantic board suspended at the centre of the pitch. Parts of the screen displayed different angles.

The box was filled with just a few people, not many. They were all richly clothes just as both Caddells were, strolling around greeting each other. Immediately Emrys recognised their Minister, Hector Fawley. He had only seen the man once before, and that was when he was two or so. The man was soliciting greets, smiling genially. Stood next to the Minster was not a man Emrys recognised. He was spotting emerald green robes with a silver lining along the rims.

A broad smile on his face as he shook hands.

"Atticus! Good to see you, my friend," The Minister said, bustling over to Lord Caddell, "And you, Hector", His father responded with a tilt of his head, "Ah, and who do we have here? You've grown quite tall since the last time I have seen you, Heir Caddell." The man directed his attention to Emrys, who in turn smiled politely.

"Well met, Minister Fawley."

"A polite lad you still are!"

"Come, Atticus. I'm sure you're already acquainted with Cormac ó Ceallaigh, the Irish Minister of Magic" with that, Emrys strode over the edge of the box, taking in the view.

Over time, the box became more full, with the chairman of the ICWQC, Richen Taleon, and other important figures who all gathered here today to watch the world cup. The President of the Russia Council of Magic, Adrik Smirnov, was present. He was chatting away with the Spanish Minister of Magic, Alejandro Perzeno and Georgian minister of magic, Nikoloz Japaridze.

"Ronell, this is the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, Oblansk…Oblansk, oh something," Emrys heard someone talk.

Emrys grinned when he turned and saw a family of three enter the Top Box, the Malfoys. All bore the same haughty expression and arrogance in their stiff postures. The males' platinum hair shimmered dully in the darkness of the sky. At spotting his cousin, Abraxas excused himself and walked over to where Emrys was standing.

Emrys snorted in amusement, "You're supporting the Spanish?" he mused, staring at the flag in Abraxas' grip. The boy merely shrugged his shoulders, "And you're supporting Georgia? Isn't your father friends with the Spanish Minister of Magic?" Abraxas asked.

"Georgia has good food!" Emrys defended himself, "Well, so does Spain, " Abraxas responded, looking over the edge, "I'm sure Spain will win anyways," Abraxas said confidently, his chest puffed out.

"Oh yeah? Let us make bets! I've got like 50 galleons in my pouch, and I'm sure I can get more from my father." Emrys spoke to the confident boy, his tone daring him to decline, "Fine, I've got like 60 galleons. I'll give you five, so you have 55, and I have 55. Let's go find the bookmaker and put in our bets."

The bookmaker was just outside the box. At being approached by two seven-year-olds asking to put down bets, he refused to allow them since they were underage, but after being brided by the two heirs, the man couldn't say no.

The crowd erupted as the gates opened and the mascot troupes gathered! The Georgian Veela is the first to appear, dressed in diaphanous gowns and dancing to the haunting strains of harp music. Several men's jaws dropped in the journalists' enclosure, and many seemed to have lost sensation in their fingers, judging by the number of dropped notebooks.

The match was exhilarating… let's just say Emrys left the World Cup with a heavier pouch.

--Caddell Manor—2nd, January 1935—

Emrys was currently sitting in his study room, which was what was used for his lessons as well. His tutor, Edmund, had just stepped out, mentioning something about getting something from the library, which wouldn't be too long now. Right in his hands was an old article about Grindelwald. He wishes he knew more about the man of what he is to do, but compared to Voldemort, he knew nothing about him.

All he knew of the man was that he was powerful and wanted wizards to rule over Muggles, right? he wasn't too sure, but from reading some old articles, it seemed like he was right to assume so. He knew Dumbledore defeated him in 1945, which was ten years away.

However, for right now, Grindelwald was still gathering power. He knew at some point in America he had been captured, he read it in an article.

It was titled, 'Grindlewald captured in the New York subway by Tina Goldstein and Newt Scamander.' He had been incarcerated by The Magical Congress of the United States of America (MACUSA) in 1926 December. Still, of course, he had escaped months later.

There wasn't anything he could do about Grindelwald, seeing as he hadn't even started Hogwarts, nor could his power compare to his. At least with Voldemort, he has a chance since they'll be starting Hogwarts simultaneously. He wasn't even sure what he was planning to do. It just hadn't been a priority of his. He came into this new world in awe and excitement, knowing what it was with a dream of becoming an inventor of some kind, to create spells, charms, hexes, and even potions.

Grindlewald had nearly risen to power in 1932 when the German Ministry of held the election of the next Suprmeme Mugwump. Grindelwald had been released of all crimes he had committed. Emrys remembered reading it, he had been surprised by every word written.

The Supreme Mugwump was an elected office[1] and the title that denoted the Head of the International Confederation of Wizards. The position was decided by an election and an ancient tradition, The Walk of the Qilin Ceremony. In the ceremony, a Qilin would bow to the worthy winning candidate who they perceived to be pure of heart.

The people wanted Grindelwald, and thus he was allowed to run for the election using a Qilin to decide, one he had killed and bewitched to choose him after bringing it back to life, using necromancy.

Qilins resembled deer and possessed precognitive skills. They could also gaze into a person's soul to see if their heart was pure. They would bow if they thought someone had a pure heart. They were a significant component of The Walk of the Qilin Ceremony, where they bowed in front of the victorious candidate for that reason.

The corrupted Qilin had bowed to Grindelwald. Thankfully he was proven to have cheated. A true Qilin, the twin of the dead Qilin, was brought forth, which chose Albus Dumbledore to be Supreme Mugwump. When he declined the position, it chose Vicência Santos, who accepted the position.

He knew this world was going to be different. It was obvious with the presence of the Caddell family, now that he thought about it, that his sister was to marry the Prince heir. Snape was a Prince through his mother. Would Snape even exist? Then again, he knows nothing of the Caddell family from the movies. For all he could know, something had happened to them, maybe something that had the wizarding world shunning them, resulting in them being removed from the sacred 29 and never to be talked about again.

Though who knows what could happen? Maybe Snape will be his sister's great-grandson or something… that would be strange, then he'll be related to not only Harry but Draco and Snape.

"I'm back. I do apologise if I took longer than expected," Edmund spoke as he entered the room, the door closing as he placed a thick book on the desk Edmund usually used, which was pressed against the wall in front of Emrys.

Emrys stared at the door, then back at Edmund, "Was that wandless magic?" he asked.

"Yes, it was." That was his response.

"Will you teach me?" Emrys curiously asked.

"Emrys, you don't even have a wand. Besides, not many people can use wandless magic", Edmund responded. Emrys gave him a look, looking him up and down, "You can…."

Edmund stared at Emrys for a moment, "Am I supposed to be offended?"

"No! I didn't mean it like that, but could you not just show me- teach me about it?"

"Fine, I'm not an expert at it at all. You must know, it's hard to do, and it's not often I can do so, usually with simple spells such as closing a door- now onto spellwork, hadn't you said you were interested in creating spells?" Edmund spoke again as he took the book he had placed down into his hands again.

"Then I suppose this book is for me?" Emrys assessed as he stood from his seat, heading towards his tutor. Edmund handed the book to Emrys.

"The process of creating a successful spell", Emry's readout, "We'll make this a project. Since you've taken an interest in being an inventor, I'll help you with starting that journey. You might not be able to cast the spell. Still, it doesn't mean you can't research and understand the concept- you can create a concept for whatever spell you wish to start with and then when you start Hogwarts and have a wand, you can begin to test it. I'll say start with a jinx. First, I think that'll be easier."

Emrys hummed in response. He already knew what type of jinx he'd create, an inverted movement Hex. It was defiantly versatile. It'll be fun seeing people try to move with that cast on them.

--Montmier Residence, Somerset, England—2nd, January 1935—

The dining room was alive with the vibrant hues of midday through the windows that welcomed the passage of light. While the rays of light danced around happily, the hall's atmosphere was nowhere near as happy but more solemn.

Sat around the long table that sat perfectly in the middle of the second dining hall of the second-floor f the Manor Baratheon Kester Caddell owned were The older members of the house of Caddell. Cecil Caddell, the older siblings to her brothers Kester and Baratheon, sat at the head of the table. Her hazel eyes pierced into their souls as she listened to what was being said about her second-eldest nephew, Zion Richen Caddell.

On the other end was where Baratheon had sat, his reserved seat as the owner of the Manor. Surrounding them, Kester Caddell and his wife Ophelia Caddell were in couched wooden chairs. "Are you sure this Healer knows what he's doing?" Ophelia asked warily.

"Of course, He's one of the best in Spain, maybe in the whole of Europe", Baratheon responded.

"Then shouldn't he be in England trying to find out what's wrong with Zion… and not in Niger?" Kester drawled as Baratheon went silent. He didn't answer his elder brother.

It had been 2 years since that day. Baratheon had gotten an owl from Hogwarts and mentioned how his youngest had fallen into a magical coma. He rushed to the school to check on him. The boy was in the worst state he would have ever imagined. Zion was sweating, his with a touch of his hand, it was freezing- they had to have him transferred to Mungo's, where they have been treating him for the past two years.

None of the healers could tell him what was wrong with his son. All the best healers in Britain couldn't even give a guess. All they knew was something was eating his magic away slowly, killing him- the shock had sent him into a coma.

Four months later, Zion had woken up, only to feel worse than before he had fallen into the coma. He could barely walk without having something to hold onto. The boy felt so useless and angry and asked them to use magic to allow him to walk correctly, which Baratheon had agreed with, but to their dismay, when they did, the boy went into shock once more, his body pulsating on the tiled floors.

Baratheon loved his children, even if he had a hard time showing it, but seeing his boy in so much pain and suffering was hard to take in. Zion couldn't go back to Hogwarts, but Baratheon was allowed to bring Zion home after another few more months, where he rested most of the time while going in and out of Mungos for testing.

They'd be times when the boy could hardly even breathe, grasping at his chest. Baratheon's sister, his senior by 19 years, Cecil, was able to contact a friend of hers who had introduced them to Healer Tanaka. A healer who was known for his excellent research in the medical field.

Baratheon glanced to his right as he saw a familiar owl fly towards the dining hall. It was an owl from Mungos. He sat up straighter. He took the letter from the owl, quickly ripping it open and read.

As he finished, he looked up, "Well?" Kester asked in worry, "I'm going to Mungo's", Baratheon replied.

"What does it say, boy!" Cecil snapped.

--Hillside Cottage, London, England—2nd, January 1935--Mature Content---

Cassiopeia moaned as Kester rolled his tongue around her swollen, sensitive clit. Her back arched without her consent, bringing her aching core closer to him. She noticed his grin. If someone had told him five years ago that he would be married to Cassiopeia, he would have given them a strange look before laughing, but here he was.

"Are you having fun?" Kester inquired before nipping at the inside of her thigh, causing her to gasp and soothing it with a kiss. Merlin absolutely adored this.

"Kester." She whimpered, her fists tight against the wood of his office desk in their new home, which they had only recently moved into. "Please."

Kester couldn't help but let out a low groan. She was learning; she seemed to know that hearing her beg did to him and pulled her closer, his huge hands bracketing her hips, sliding her closer to the edge to reach her better from his place in his desk chair.

"Does that mean yes, Cassy?" He asked breathlessly, the exhaled air hitting her exactly where she wanted it.

"Yes." She gasped out. "Kester, please."

Kester, never one to disappoint a lady, immediately drew her pulsing clit into his mouth and sucked hard.

Donna cried out wordlessly, writhing in place, one of her hands moving to clutch the back of his head, holding her to him. His hands tightly held onto her silky thighs. He flicked his tongue back and forth against the trapped flesh, making Cassiopeia's spine arch so spectacularly he thought she may break.

"Kester." She whimpered. Her hands ran through his short locks, trapping them in her tight grip

Kester drew back, releasing her with an obscene pop, allowing her to breathe for a moment before her back slowly reconnected with the wood beneath her.

"You're dripping, Cassy." He smiled as he ran his finger across her perineum, just shy of entering her. "Please", she begged for him. His fingers halted insight of something- it was a post owl.

"Kester?" Cassiopeia question. No longer feeling the warmth of his fingers, she sat up to see him fumbling with a letter. He opened it, sitting back in the chair as he read.

She watched as he shot up from the seat, "What is it?" she asked, "My brother-" he began.

"They found out what's wrong with him. I need to get to Mungos. My father is already there." He said in a rush.

--St Mungo's Hospital, London---

"It was named Mort magique after the French had found it in Niger in the 1700s. They are rare to come by, and if you manage to get a hold of someone who sells them, they're expensive with how deadly they are. They haven't been seen in centuries. The fact that your son has it shocks me. Had he taken any trips outside the country before he went into his coma?" Healer Tanaka asked.

They were all standing in the office, listening to the Healer speak. Baratheon spoke. Baratheon shook his head, "No, he hadn't left the country. I'm guessing it isn't contagious, seeing as no one has had similar symptoms?"

"No, not contagious. They're like parasites latching onto a host, feeding on them, slowly killing the host from within. They gain access to their host through blood, so your son must have been injured somehow for them to enter his system."

"Your son reacts negatively to any type of magic used on him due to the parasites. They thrive on surviving and feeding. His magic is their current food source. They tend to multiply over time once within the body. They're magical creatures who have repellers to protect themselves against anything that isn't remotely Zion's magic. They feel as though they are being attacked, so they attack what they can't see to protect themselves." The healer continued

"Um, Seraphina- my cousin did say my brother had a cut the day he went into a coma." Kester contributed. The healer nodded, "Then it's likely that was when they entered his system- this is amazing, I'm sure I can find the archive to study the 'Mort magique' to find more information on it, but I'll have to go to France. It'll be hard to find anything, seeing as most people thought the magical parasite to be extinct, but of course, people have just about anything."

"Amazing? You think my son dying is amazing?" Baratheon snapped, "I didn't mean it like that, Master Caddell- It's just I haven't seen anything like this in years."

"Enough. Is there a cure?" This time it was Lord Caddell that spoke.

The healer didn't respond. "Well?!" Baratheon yelled in anger, "Answer the question!"

"I'm sorry, there is no known cure. Every patient recorded to have had the parasite had not survived, only living for 5 years after contracting it."

The room fell into silence, and Kester ended it in a broken voice. He spoke, "And there's nothing we can do? He'll just live for three more years in pain?"

"Well, there is something-" The healer began.

"-What!" Baratheon interrupted, "Magic transfusion, it'll ease his pain and help him gain a little bit of strength, but it's not a cure. It's quite dangerous and not recommended for one to do due to the side effect, which could have long term harm. He will need a close relative to feed magic to him. Because of the close relation, the parasites won't react negatively and try to attack because they'll assume it's the food source they laid claim on."

"I'll do it" Kester immediately stood up from the seat he was sitting on, "No- I'll be doing it. Sit down, boy!" Baratheon spoke.

"…Well, unfortunately, I would have to say your son Kester would be a closer match if they share the same mother. If they do indeed share the same mother, their magic signatures will be the most similar and have less risk of the parasites attacking." Healer Tanaka spoke again.

"I will do my best to find out more about it, maybe even a cure." The Healer continued. "Have you contacted the Aurors?" Kester suddenly asked.

"Yes, I have. This really does need to be investigated, for this parasite to be in England cannot be a coincidence."