Fandoms: Prince of Tennis & Harry Potter crossover

Disclaimer: Neither fandom is mine; HP is Rowling's whereas PoT is Konomi's

A/N: "Uva" is the Latin word for "grape;" hence, "Pontuvamenti" became the spell for producing grape-flavored Ponta here.

Prince of Ponta

"Stupid first-years, look, this is how it should be done!" gloated Arai. He rolled the sleeve of his wizard's robe, flexed his fingers, and flicked his wand. "Aguamenti!"

Some water dripped from his wand tip, and so was sweat from the first-year students' foreheads. All who gathered there were the members of the Survival with Magic Club, and today, the seniors were teaching their juniors how to produce water.

No merciless heat of the sun cauterized them as they stood in the middle of the Quidditch field of Seisshun Gakuen, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Japan; some of the frost from the previous night's snow still remained on the grass. On the east of the field, towering the lofty clusters of verdant trees, was a multi-tiered Heian castle bedecked with many a bewitched lantern and surrounded by a moat. On the north of the field, bordering the school and the outside world, stood the mystic mountain under the protection of a daidarabocchi (montane giant), karasu-tengu (long-nosed birdmen), and oni (ogres). On the west of the field, lied the enchanted forest, of which dense foliage provided shelter to magical creatures like yuki-onna (snowwomen) and shape-shifting kitsune (fox demons). On the south of the field, flowed a long, long turquoise river, where ships navigated by kappa (water imps) transported students to and from their homes.

The weather was intemperate, though not as chilly as the ring of Arai's voice in the first-year students' ears. "The wizard Tatewaki Osamu made himself a name by inventing this spell when he got stuck in the middle of a desert for nine days." Arai continued his babble, while his wand emitted more water, like a jug vomiting its content. "Had he failed back then, that geezer wouldn't have lived to tell the tale, eh?"

Another flick from the same wand, and the water ceased gushing. Following the smug smirk of the wand's master was the phrase: "Your turn."

The first-year students cringed: How could they do the spell right on the first try? Magic was not all about correct pronunciation and wand-swinging; novices needed proper instruction from either a teacher or a kinder senior student guided them through their mistakes. The problem was—based on personal experience—they knew that this session would just give an excuse for Arai and his gang to keep them under the leash of servitude. "Weaklings like you should consider doing us errands as honor," or so they claimed.

"Let's have a volunteer, shall we?" suggested Hayashi, one of Arai's close friends.

Like greedy hawks peering over defenseless rabbits, the senior students' eyes swept through the rows of first-years. Each underclassman trembled, heart at prayer: 'Please don't choose me, please don't choose me.'

"What about…" Arai's other friend, Ikeda, pretended to consider all first-year students as the potential candidates, but his gaze had been fixed to one particular boy from the beginning. After all, it wouldn't be fun if the one they chose did not mess up. "Ah, yes. Kachiro-kun, you'll do."

Ikeda's voice gave the so-called Kachiro a sharp pang. The younger boy wondered if an invisible blade had just pierced through his heart and diffused its poison through his bloodstream. He felt his body stiffen, and when he forced his voice out, he couldn't help gulping before he mumbled the Aguamenti incantation. Not only did his face blanch, but his hand was also shaking; it could not have been plainer that he did not trust his wand to actually yield the desired effect. It was more unfortunate still that the wand did not betray his trust.

"Aguamenti!" Kachiro repeated louder, but his wrist quivered.

On each futile attempt, Arai's lips curled more upwards. As no water came out on the fifth attempt, which best described as "shaky shout," the second-year student ruffled Kachiro's hair and remarked, "Nice try, now why don't you go buying us some pumpkin juice?"

Kachiro nodded and then scrambled to the cafeteria. Those whom he passed could see angry tears streaking from his chin.

"Sempai, I have a question." An unfamiliar voice broke the silence.

Arai swerved and saw a first-year in a white cap raising his hand. He whispered to Tomo, "Who's that?"

Tomo whispered back, "No idea about his name, but there's a rumor that a student got transferred from the American school of witchcraft and wizardry."

Arai glanced at the transfer student; how could a midget like that possibly harm him? Tempted by such a promising prospect of an additional victim, Arai eagerly responded to the shorty's inquiry, "Yes, what is it?"

"Is it done like this?" With an effortless flick of his dragon heartstring sequoia wand, the new student enunciated, "Pontuvamenti!"

A fountain of purple-colored liquid sprang out from the tip of the young boy's wand, sparkling and gleaming like molten amethyst. Not a single drop stained his Seigaku uniform of blue and white wizard robe.

The club members looked in awe, except for Arai, whose face was crimson with lividness.

"Grape-flavored Ponta," announced a bespectacled third-year student after catching a drop of the fluid substance with his finger, and put that very finger into his mouth. Next, he flicked his wand and chanted, "Accio notebook!" just barely above a whisper.

"You've never missed a thing, have you, Inui?" A blue-eyed, hazel-haired boy occupying one of the front rows of the stadium seats smiled amiably.

The bespectacled student paused scribbling. Casual as he might seem, the commentator was none other than Seigaku's most talented wizard of his year seconded only by the team captain. "And yet, I still haven't managed to unravel the mysteries of your triple-counter spells, Fuji."

"Commotion on the field?" Another bespectacled boy arrived on the scene, majestic and tall. There was no trace of agitation in his perfectly calm tone; even so, as the proverb said, the calmer a river, the deeper it became. All handclaps died down, the audience could even now spare a little attention to the bleak breeze that sent their robes billowing, but dared not remove their eyes from the wizard in question.

A single look at the purple puddle on the ground, followed by Arai's both guilty and indignant expression, was all it took for the captain of the team to decree, "Twenty laps around the Quidditch field, no broom!"

'So this is the strength of Seigaku's new pillar, Echizen Ryoma. He sure does live up to Professor Sumire's expectation.'

"Good timing, Tezuka," Fuji greeted the newly arrived brunet with a grin.

"You and Inui were here all along, but simply watching throughout the whole dispute?" replied the captain. Yet, his tone was not merely curious; it was sharper, as though the actual words he meant to say were: "Is that how the regulars should behave?"

Most people would not notice any change in Tezuka's expression, but the Seigaku regulars knew him too well to ignore this. Even though the bespectacled face looked placid, its piercing gaze was reproachful. Hence, it came as no surprise to Fuji and Inui to hear, "Ten laps, both of you!"

OWARI