Iris Potter loved Tennis. She loved it with a ferocious passion. Enough of a passion for her to turn a so called tennis team of nothing but fangirls into something worthy of attending the Japanese Nationals. It was time for Seigaku's female tennis team to take centre court!

000

Five years ago, tennis saved her life.

It was such an incongruous thing to happen. But... like an avalanche, it was triggered by the smallest of things. Invisible to the naked eye, until the roar of realisation set something impossible to stop in motion. That was what tennis had done for her. Something so small, and invisible... it changed her life.

Five years ago. She was seven. Just entering into Year Four at Little Whinging's King James Junior School. It was a local public junior school, but it had a good reputation for it's after school clubs, boasting a large number of them. It may have been a public school, but it was a well funded one thanks to a few of the charitable donations by various alumni.

Year Four was the year when tennis was on the P.E. Roster.

In English Junior Schools, once a class moved up a year-group, they also changed classrooms. Moving from Year Three to Year Four, meant they moved a corridor down and towards the school field. They left Miss June behind in Year Three and came into Mrs Hedge's class, room 22 at the end of the corridor, next to the cloak-room. Mrs Hedge was a nice older woman with curly brown hair and kindly grey eyes. She wore long skirts and sweaters with kittens knitted into them. Her black-board would have a different flower sketched on it every morning and in the three weeks since the start of term, they could already tell what mood she was in based on the flower on the board. No one quite realised that she was slowly, and subtly, teaching them the Victorian Flower Language. But then, they were only seven. She wasn't expecting geniuses.

For the first three months, their class P.E. Lessons were focused on Rounders. A much more toned down form of baseball for children. Five bases, one pitcher, one batter, and one guard. They used the large paddle bats and a tennis ball for lessons because their hand-eye coordination wasn't yet good enough for Mrs Hedge to trust them with regular thin bats and cricket balls – which were hard and painful. In Rounders, the pitcher threw the ball and the batter had to hit it. If one of the field members caught it before it hit the ground, that was an automatic Out. Once the batter hit the ball, they then hard to run around each of the five bases. They had to each a base before someone threw the ball back to the pitcher. They would only get a full Rounder Point if they made it through ALL the Bases before the ball returned to the pitcher. It was a clever way of teaching children fractions as well as giving them some exercise and teaching them about teamwork.

It was just a shame that Dudley Dursley and his friends, Piers Polkis, and Malcome Baddock were also part of the class and by far the most disruptive influences that Mrs Hedge had the misfortune of dealing with.

When Spring term rolled around, Mrs Hedge announced that they would be getting a new Teaching Assistant specifically to help them with their new P.E. Lessons. A former national tennis player by the name of Adam Radcliff, he would be helping her during the next three months of tennis lessons and taking over as coach for the school's Tennis Club.

In another life, Adam hadn't injured himself during his last tournament and thus never had to retire early. He would have never opted to take a teaching degree and show youngsters how much fun tennis could be, he would have been too busy playing it himself.

But in this life. In this life, a friend of his waxed a little too poetically about how much fun he had teaching children music in an effort to try and cheer him up after his injury that Adam decided to give it a try. If he couldn't play tennis, then god-damnit he was going to make sure other people could, and as long as they loved the sport just as much as him, he didn't think he could ever be sad! So he returned to his old alma mater after gaining a teaching and sports coaching qualification, he passed all of his CBR checks, took all the teacher training courses in first aid, child psychology, the Safe Guarding briefs, the Fire Martial Training, everything. He was determined to do this. And the headmistress threw her hands up and laughed, saying that if he was that determined she would just have to let him. Least she come in one day to find him camped out in front of her office like he had done as a student, demanding better tennis equipment for the P.E. Department.

One incident changed everything for Iris.

Adam Radcliff became their P.E. Teacher.

The invisible thing that started the avalanche of change in her life was a friendly seeming man in a sports jacket and shorts in the middle of the cold January air as they shivered in the field at the back of the school.

"I know it's cold guys, but get to running! Three laps around the field as a warm-up, then come back and choose your rackets!" he called cheerfully, watching as the children in their leggings, shorts, and polo-necks took to grumbling and complaining as they began their laps.

"I see you there Dudley, keep running! No cutting corners!" he shouted across the field, laughing at the wail of dismay from the tubby little boy. He was beginning to understand what Chris meant when he said teaching children was fun. And why his coach tortured him so badly during his training. It was funny to hear that wail of frustration and indignation. Three laps wasn't too bad, not at their age. But still, a lot of them were flagging and falling behind to a walk, gasping for breath. Had he pushed them too hard? They were what, seven? He had been doing ten laps around the tennis courts at their age.

Still, there were a few not falling behind. Piers Polkis looked to be quite good, he hadn't decided to go sprinting off and was actually moving at an easy jog that looked like he could hold it for a long time. There was a short haired girl far out in front, sprinting ahead of the pack. Interesting. She wasn't pausing or slowing, or even breathing hard as she easily outstripped her classmates and even began to overlap them on the third lap around the field. While her speed seemed to suggest sprinting, there was a definite rhythm to her movements that suggested she just ran so fast that it seemed like she was sprinting. That was a lot of stamina for such a little lady.

That was when the first clump of snow broke free from the avalanche of change.

Adam Radcliff saw the exact moment that the little girl passed Dudley Dursley – and the backhanded punch the boy swung into her stomach.

The blow drove all the air out of the girl's lungs and even caused her to vomit as she dropped to the ground, cradling her no doubt bruised stomach.

"DUDLEY DURSLEY!" Adam thundered, causing the whole class to recoil and the boy in question to jump as if he had been electrocuted mid laugh as he stood over Iris Potter.

It would be later in the staff room when he brought it up with Mrs Hedge that he learned little Iris was in fact Dudley's cousin, and currently living with him and his parents. Apparently the girl's parents had met an unpleasant end with a drink driving incident. The distressing thing, Miss June of their Year Three class admitted, was the Dursleys themselves. Petunia and Vernon refused to reign their young son in. It was a classic 'kill them with kindness' situation. Dudley Dursley was well on his way to becoming a full-out sociopath with the way they were raising him to believe he was above the rules, above concerns about other people, and above the punishment system. The young blonde teacher could only confess her relief at never having to deal with Dudley ever again now that he was out of her class. Apparently, unless you were male, had visible muscle, and shouted like a drill-sergeant, the boy would neither give you the time of day, nor the respect you were due.

It was a good thing that Adam had all of those things.

The bad thing was that the next day, Iris Potter was limping a little as she ran her laps.

And an unpleasant feeling took root in Adam's gut. Still. She was soldiering on with her work out. And she had looked excited about taking part in actual tennis today, so he didn't pull her immediately into the nurse's office like he had last time. He didn't have the heart.

Adam would never forget that day.

She was a natural.

He immediately tried to recruit her for the tennis club. That kind of talent in a first time player was almost unheard of, and almost as though she were a gift from the Tennis Gods themselves! With some training, a little bit of polish, she could be a national player! Heck, forget national, she might even make it into the Olympics if she trained hard enough!Her ability to track the ball was incredible, her hand to eye coordination was definitely at tournament level. Unfortunately, without knowing the rules, or how to play properly, all that little Iris was culminated in was a seven year old with some impressive reflexes.

She wasn't a tennis player yet, but he was determined to change that!

A week later, he was ripping his hair out with anger, frustration and more than a little concern.

Every attempt he made at trying to convince the Dursley family to let her stay after school and join the club had been rebuffed with, at times, some very weak and suspicious arguments. Not to mention the strange appearances of notes that tried to excuse her from P.E. Class the few times that Dudley presented the paper to him – because apparently Iris was hiding them in her shoes so she wouldn't have to hand them over. That wasn't his only problem, it seemed as though Dudley was getting jealous of the attention he paid Iris during lessons and was getting increasingly violent toward her, ignoring him when he shouted at the boy. Even Mrs Hedge had ranted about how the boy was becoming absolutely impossible in classes, refusing to accept his punishments and being purposefully disruptive.

Twice now the headmistress had called Petunia Dursley in about her son's volatile behaviour.

And every time... Adam saw Iris limping the morning after.

He raised the alarm. The staff members had been suspicious for a while now, but none of them had the same medical experience as Adam. None of them knew the human body like he did. And it was a well known fact that Social Services would not move on suspicions alone. There needed to be proof. And Adam provided it with papers detailing every incident where Dudley Dursley lashed out at his cousin, every bruise he and his little gang was accounted for, and then he listed every bruise and sprain and injury that did not come from them. He drew out parallels of behaviour between the children, the days of the week, and Mrs Dursley's appearances in the office.

It culminated in the Dursley family being approached by Social Services.

And then Vernon Dursley accusing him of being a paedophile.

As the accusation was made during the official interrogation, Adam was put on paid suspension – just so they could investigate carefully. Petunia Dursley had gone running to the media and now the whole situation was an utter circus around poor Iris with her parents being foul mouthed at every turn, the child in question being painted as a little delinquent or an innocent being led astray, and the Dursley family as slandered martyrs standing against an oppressive nanny-state school board.

Headmistress Winters did not take that lying down.

She anonymously sent Iris and Dudley's school files to the newspaper, along with a copy of the original evidence Adam had put forward. And the papers exploded once again. It was then that a reporter found an actual goldmine of information on the Late Mr and Mrs Potter. One Arabella Figg, and elderly lady who knew them when they were alive, who tried to keep an eye on young Iris as a favour. Finding out that the young couple actually comprised of an up and coming, fresh out of training, Police Officer and his medical student wife being forced to go into hiding to escape a serial killer had positively rocked the neighbourhood who had been under the impression they were drop-out drug dealers who died in a car-crash. To hear that Lily Potter's dead body had to be lifted off her young daughter where she had died shielding her from a murderer had... changed everything in Little Whinging.

The Dursley family were in the shit.

Then the Police got involved with Social Services. Forensics.

The cupboard under the stairs. The basement. The shed in the back garden.

A horrific history of neglect, mental, emotional, and physical abuse was laid out in front of the United Kingdom as thousands of voices rose up in support and defence of one little girl, her P.E. Teacher leading the charge. The only cruelty that Iris had notbeen subjected to was sexual abuse – the only reason being that neither Dursley seemed to want to get 'Freak' on them.

Five years ago, tennis saved Iris Lily Potter's life by bringing her into Adam Radcliff's.

Five years ago, she asked if he would foster her, and the courts, with advice from the Foster system and her councillor, agreed to give him fully custody of the little girl.

Four years ago, she won her first tournament, the under tens' Match Point League Surrey division.

Four years ago, she became the South-West's under tens tennis champion.

Three years ago, she caught sight of a boy being bullied on the tennis courts. She blitzed the bullies, running them off the courts, and told him that his form was good, and he had a lot of potential. He just needed to improve his insight and accuracy – and have some confidence already! If he acted like a wilting wall flower of course people were going to pick on him, man the hell up and show them who was in charge!

Three years ago, she became England's undisputed Junior Tennis champion.

Two years ago, she defended that title, and kept it.

One year ago, she obliterated her competition, and again, kept it.

Three months ago, she won again. And told Adam that she hated England and wanted to move away.

Two months ago, arrangements began to have them leave the UK and head to Japan, a country that Iris herself chose.

One month ago, they started packing.

And yesterday... the plane landed in Narita Airport, Tokyo.

000

"Well, this is nice," Adam observed, looking around their little apartment as he unlocked the front door and opened it wide, moving to the side a little to let his curious twelve-year-old sidekick to step in and explore. Their plane had landed yesterday and the two of them had been formed into a motel for the night as they got in too late to collect their keys from the landlady, Kiyomi-san.

"I knew they'd be small, but wow, this is tiny," Iris observed, sounding mildly impressed of all things as she set her backpack down on the floor and moved further in.

"Well, yeah, Japan's all about the space saving and minimalism thing. Makes me wonder how we're going to fit all our stuff in here. Besides, I couldn't afford anywhere bigger," he admitted without the least bit of shame, he knew that Iris didn't really care how big the place was, she was just happy about being out of that damn cupboard. "Don't forget to take your shoes off," he added belatedly and had to step back a bit as her trainers came flying out of the kitchen.

"Toilet and shower are separate. No tub though," the girl called through from the otherside of the kitchen as Adam toed off his trainers and stepped into the living room. There were two sliding doors on the right hand side, one lead into his room, the other into Iris's. He had made a specific point of requesting that as the girl was not his daughter, no matter how much he may have thought of her that way, and she needed her own space. It meant the rent was a little more expensive than he would have liked, but all that boiled down to was they couldn't treat themselves all that much with take-aways and cinema visits.

"Bedrooms are nice too," he noted loudly.

"Rooms? As in, plural? I thought the Japanese slept in the one room if they were a family?" Iris asked, appearing behind him to peer into his bedroom from underarm. It was little more than a space big enough for a desk against the far wall, a book case above it, and a wall with a lot of cupboards. In all, there was barely enough floor space for a futon. She pulled away to check her room, which was exactly the same.

"Yeah, they do. But, you're a growing girl, y'know. I thought you might be uncomfortable sharing with me," Adam explained as he followed after, peeking in over her head. Yup, identical, just with the cupboards on the other wall. There was also some mild wear and tear on the desk. Not enough to warrant a new one though, thankfully.

"And I bet it cost extra, huh?" she asked scoldingly, looking up at him with that oh so familiar frown on her face.

He laughed and ruffled her hair, "I can't afford a house, but a two-bed flat isn't out of my price range. It just means we'll have to have more home-cooked meals than before. Which I was planning on anyway. Japan puts a lot more emphasis on healthy eating so rice, veggies, chicken, that sort of thing is going to be a lot cheaper than back in England. These up coming years are pretty important in terms of diet and training what with puberty setting in," he added with a smirk as Iris flushed and crossed her arms over her burgeoning chest.

"So... more training?" she asked sceptically.

Adam shook his head, "Different training," he corrected. "Now, c'mon, let's get our carry on stuff settled. The moving company should be here this afternoon with the rest of our things," he told her before turning and heading to the kitchen where they had left their bags.

Over the last five years, Adam Radcliff had not changed much since his stint on the professional circuits. 6'2" with broad shoulders, he was tanned from spending so much time outside, his light brown hair streaked with sun-bleached highlights, it was cut short, cropped about an inch and a half from his skull so he had enough to play with if Iris decided to give him a mohawk or spikes because it was funny. Light brown eyes in a fairly friendly face, a little wide with prominent cheek-bones and a mildly squared off jaw. He tended to meander around in a pair of baggy shorts and various T-shirts, making it easy to see that the muscle he built up during his stint as a professional had not faded at all. Despite his injuries, Adam still kept in shape. He had to if he wanted to keep up with his young charge.

Iris too had changed from the scrawny little waif child she had once been and grown into what promised to be a very pretty young woman as she got older. She was still tiny, and it didn't look like that was going to change for her any time soon. About 4'7" in height, she was still very delicate looking due to her inability to put any significant weight on. Her skin was still pale but that was due to the fact she tended to burn instead of tan, so she spent a lot of time in long-sleeves and sun hats with factor 50 sunscreen. Iris hated looking like a lobster, and sunburn was painful. She had very elfin features, and large almond shaped chocolate brown eyes framed with unusually long eyelashes. Her thick fiery red hair used to be kept shorn boyishly short by her Aunt had grown out and now hung just past her shoulders in a horse-tail. Adam tried to get her into pretty dresses and tops whenever he could, but her old hang-ups from the Dursleys were still pretty strong and more often than not she would be wearing one of his old T-shirts and a pair of the bike-shorts he got for her to wear under those pretty dresses, as she refused point blank to wear anything that could fly up and give all and sundry an eyeful. He had lost more pairs of socks than he cared to think about to his daughter.

The pair of them quietly went about removing things from their hand-luggage in the silence of their new home, a silence that was broken when Iris turned her iPod on and set the volume up high. Her headphones were good enough to work as speakers if you didn't mind the sound being a touch tinny. Instrumental music filled the flat as the pair of them put the books away, set jackets and sweaters in the right places, Adam put his kindle on the table, Iris found a place for her mint-green teddybear – Sage.

"Adam? I'm gunna run to the corner shop, get some tea and a bit of lunch. May I have some money?" Iris asked, poking her head around the door.

"Sure, get me some salmon onigiri while you're there? I've always wanted to try it. You know where my wallet is," he told her as he busily plugged in his kindle charger. The girl made a sound of agreement and made her way to the kitchen to grab his wallet from the counter, slipping her trainers on, she left their little flat.

They were in a nice place, a suburb on the good side of town, they were fairly close to a train-station and it didn't take longer than five minutes to jog down the road. She got a few glances for being so obviously foreign, and for having such vivid coloured hair, but she'd gotten used to looks a long time ago. Adam had, despite advisement from the court, kept his job at her old school, so she still lived in Little Whinging while growing up. She got used to the attention that the people heaped onto her, she learned a lot about her parents from Mrs Figg who seemed a lot more friendly now that she didn't have to worry about staying in Petunia's good books. Dudley had been moved off to go and live with his Aunt Marge who bred Bulldogs in the country – she wished him luck with that. But eventually the stares changed from 'the poor abused orphan girl', to 'the tennis prodigy from the news'. It was such a strange turn around to suddenly have people who looked down their noses at her, her whole life, suddenly become her biggest supporters.

In their last year of Junior School at King James, ten-year-old Piers Polkis, whom had become much more tolerable without Dudley providing a bad example, approached her, blushing and stuttering, asking if she wanted to go with him to the cinema. She had to refuse because she had training, there was a tournament the second week of summer holidays and she wanted to be on top form for it. He had understood and wished her luck. It was almost surreal to see him in the stands during her final match cheering enthusiastically.

She shook away thoughts of England and turned her attention to the road in front of her, darting across during a lull in the traffic and entering into the corner shop. The boy behind the counter looked up, frowned, and then looked back down at the issue of Shounen Jump he was reading. She brushed his behaviour off, concentrating on finding what she wanted. She by-passed a guy in traditional garb who was busily picking out Adult Magazines, pausing only briefly to pick up one of the weekly Shounen Jump issues and a pair of blank notebooks. Two bottles of water, a bottle of grape ponta, a bottle of melon cream soda, two packs of salmon onigiri and some red bean paste pancake things later, she was stood in front of the cashier setting them all down.

"May I also have a packet of the aspirin there?" she asked in Japanese. She had studied the language for a year, really knuckling down in between her training. She wasn't perfect, she had a very thick accent and stumbled over some of the words that her mouth and tongue couldn't quite work fast enough to wrap around, but she was good enough to have the Cashier blink and then grin at her.

"Of course." He quickly collected the requested box and began to total everything up.

Iris flipped through the currency in Adam's wallet to get the right amount. Luckily they'd had the fore-thought to visit a currency exchange in the airport so there was no problems. Handing the money over, an idea struck her, "Um, I'm sorry to bother you, but my Dad and I just moved into the area, do you know of any tennis courts, or sports clubs that might have them, in the near-by area?" she asked as she accepted the paper bag he had kindly packed for her.

"You play Tennis?" the cashier asked in a little surprise.

Iris nodded, "Yup. My Dad coaches me," she admitted, stepping aside a little to let the man in his traditional clothing have access to the cashier.

He hummed thoughtfully as he served the older man, "Well, there's the street courts. That's about a half an hour walk from here up on Hinagiku Street. There's Gakino Gizaka too. They're actually holding a tournament in three weeks, they've got quite a few tennis courts," he explained as he collected some cigarettes for the older man.

Abruptly, the man in traditional clothes laughed at her, "So you're a Tennis player too?" he asked mirthfully, looking down at Iris who twitched a little and eyed him warily.

"Yes," she allowed.

"My son plays too. He's been whining about not having someone to play against since we got here. Maybe you two could play against one another? He keeps bugging me while I'm reading, it's a pain," he complained boisterously while the cashier looked a little disapproving of the interruption.

Iris wavered, "Um, I'd... have to ask my Dad first," she said as politely as possible.

The man nodded, "You do that," he told her before rummaging in his wallet and flicking a business card toward her. "Names Echizen Nanjiro, you've got my number and address on there. Give me a ring if you're interested." And with that, he collected his purchases and sauntered out of the shop, leaving the disapproving cashier and somewhat overwhelmed twelve year old girl behind.

"Want me to chuck that for you?" the cashier asked kindly.

Iris jolted and looked up at him, "Erm... sure. Thank you."

"No problem. I've got a kid sister your age. If some weird old geezer buying porn tried talking her into going to his house, I'd hope that someone would try and help her," he explained, collecting the card and tearing it into pieces before tossing it into the bin under the counter.

"Thank you. I'm Iris," she introduced, bowing. She thought she got it right, she heard that if you bowed too low it could be considered mocking, and not enough could be considered an insult.

"Hayato, nice to meet you," he responded in kind with a friendly smile and a somewhat shallower bow. After that, they said their goodbyes and Iris carried on back home. By the time she got there, the movers were already helping Adam carry things up the stairs to their little flat.

Excitedly, she told him about the tournament that was supposed to be happening and asked if she could attend. With all of their things, the place was almost uncomfortably cluttered, they were going to have to sell a few things here and there, nothing too big. It also meant that keeping the place tidy was a must.

"We'll see," Adam allowed as they ate their lunch, "So... have you decided?" he asked curiously.

Iris hummed as she sipped her melon soda, "Yeah. I think I'll go for Seishun Academy."

000

And ta'dah! Finished.

We're still trying to decide whether or not to make this a non-magic AU, or a magic-AU where she managed to miss Hogwarts, or perhaps she ended up being a squib, who knows. I can't decide. So I'mma just keep writing, see where it takes me.