HP: The Boy who Mastered Lightning Chapter 17: 17 – Playing Mahjong

"I heard that in the past, wizards used to travel to school in their own ways. So rode broomsticks, and others went directly to Hogsade via Floo powder. But that was forced to stop after the International Statute of Secrecy began to be enforced in 1692. Too many wizards were being spotted by Muggles, which created an enormous burden for the Ministry of Magic." Charles McKinnon seed to know this history well and began to speak at length.

So that was how it was. But what was there to do to pass the ti during several hours on the road? Read a book? Alan looked at his two companions and felt it would be impolite to keep his head down in a text without talking to them.

"Hey, since we're going to spend a lot of ti on the road anyway, how about I teach you a ga?" Alan suggested.

"Sure, we're just sitting around. What do you want to play? Wizard Chess or Gobstones?" Although Charles had initially acted sowhat cynical, the prospect of a ga exposed his boyish nature.

"This is a mysterious ga from a great Eastern country. It's usually played by four people, but three can play it too. I'll teach you." Alan pulled the mahjong tiles from his luggage and began to promote them. He was confident they would not be able to resist the charm of the ga.

The only problem was the lack of a proper surface. His Transfiguration was still quite basic; he couldn't simply conjure a table out of thin air.

"Got it." Alan looked at the small storage ledge beneath the window. He pulled out his wand and cast an Extension Charm. The small surface instantly lengthened. "Alright, this should work." The set Alan carried was a travel size, similar to a Japanese mahjong set. The modified table would just barely suffice.

The three gathered around, and Alan began his instruction. Having taught his friends at the orphanage, he was an experienced tutor. He explained the rules clearly in a few sentences. These tiles were international standard, so even the character tiles had Arabic nurals marked on the corners; there would be no problem understanding the pieces.

"The rules are roughly like that. Let's play a couple of practice rounds, and I'll coach you as we go."

"It sounds so complicated. Is it actually fun to play with these little squares?" Vivian felt her head spin and couldn't help but complain.

"We have plenty of ti, let's just try it," Charles encouraged her, clearly intrigued.

Charles found a suitcase roughly the height of a chair, placed it in the middle of the aisle directly facing the table, and sat down. Alan and Vivian took the seats on either side. Under Alan's guidance, the three began to play.

Within half an hour, they had grasped the basics. Vivian won two rounds, and Charles won one. Alan had intentionally played loosely to help them build confidence and deepen their understanding of the chanics.

"Haha! I won again! This ga is so much fun," Vivian cried, pushing her tiles away happily, any trace of her initial distress gone.

"How about a competition? When the snack trolley passes by, whoever has the lowest score has to pay," Charles suggested, having a blast. Children are often like that; they build trust and familiarity through play.

"Deal! I feel like my luck is peaking right now," Vivian chid in.

Alan chuckled inwardly. *I was letting you win. Now your tails are wagging in the clouds. Let teach you a lesson about the harsh realities of life.*

They rearranged the tiles and started a serious round.

A while later, there was a knock on the door. The middle-aged woman with the snack trolley had arrived. At this mont, Alan's expression was a bit grim. For the last two rounds, he had been losing almost every hand.

*Damn it, is this really their first ti playing? How are they so fierce? Am I actually just bad?* Alan grumbled to himself.

Vivian, in particular, was incredible. It was as if a new world had opened to her. She was winning constantly, often "catching" the very tiles Alan discarded. He was starting to regret teaching them.

"Haha, Alan, pay up! You lost the most. Hurry and buy us so snacks!" Vivian's eyes narrowed into delighted crescents as she bead at him.

"I know, I know. How is your luck this good?" Alan reluctantly pulled out his wallet and bought a variety of treats. The three began to feast in the carriage.

"Try these Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. They have everything," Charles said, chewing on a licorice wand while handing a handful of candies to Alan.

"Ugh." Alan took a bite and nearly gagged. It tasted like earwax. As for how he knew it was earwax—don't ask. He just knew.

Vivian and Charles laughed heartlessly at his reaction. Alan didn't have the courage to try another bean and switched to Chocolate Frogs instead. Of all the magical snacks, the frogs were the most tolerable; the others were either cloyingly sweet or tasted bizarre.

Inside the frog wrapper was a collectible card. Alan's depicted Hengist of Woodcroft, the founder of Hogsade. He looked at the card and then out the window, his excitent for the wizarding world growing.

Vivian continued her stream of stories, mostly centering on her family. Alan's ears were practically calloused from listening, but he maintained a polite smile. To him, Vivian was "spirited" if one were being kind, and a "busybody" if one were being blunt.

Charles, now fully relaxed, talked mostly about Quidditch. Upon learning that Alan and Vivian were unfamiliar with the sport, he began an exhaustive introduction to the rules, teams, and star players.

Alan couldn't quite wrap his head around how a society with such convenient magic still enjoyed a sport as barbaric as Quidditch. Listening to Charles describe fouls that left players crippled by Bludgers, Alan felt a strange sense of disconnect. On one hand, there were sophisticated magical applications; on the other, there was a persistent streak of primitive brutality.