"Order, I call order for the first meeting of the Fantasy League of Extraordinary Gentlemen - and women, thank you Shona for joining us again," Cal boomed as his fellow league mates lounged in Mai's living room. He had a whiteboard covered with names and positions behind him and held a Quod (non-explosive, of course) in his hands for effect.

Their league had just finished a great Quidditch season, but now that Quodpot was about to begin Cal took the opportunity to introduce them to his favorite sport of all time. The Maiko (the name for their trophy, don't ask) was displayed prominently on the mantle, a picture of her smiling face sat on top of the trophy - the fact that the picture was currently smiling caused them to take it as a sign that their idol blessed this congregation. Cal's name was written on a plaque on the trophy as he had won the Quidditch season, narrowly defeating Cassidy MacQueen - the team darkhorse. He took a certain measure of pride in his win, which might have caused him to take his current status as League Commissioner more seriously than necessary.

"As League Commissioner, it is my duty to welcome you all to the start of the season. Quodpot is a brutal sport with none of the pansy frilliness inherent to Quidditch. The players are under constant threat of dismemberment from the Quod exploding within their grasp," Cal was prone to hyperbole, especially when it came to danger. "Only the toughest and bravest are able to participate in this bloodfest. Now, this season I don't want to see any collusion soiling the immaculate name of our league. Now, we have a long draft ahead of us, and our lovely host so graciously provided snacks for our enjoyment. I also purchased refreshments," Cal motioned to the veritable smörgåsbord of booze options on the table. "I now open the floor to you guys before we begin the drafting."

He beamed, his dimples etched into his cheeks. Good friends all joined together by a love of a game and competitive camaraderie. What could possibly go wrong?

To an outsider, Cass did not at all look the athletic type – a bit gangly and awkward and he was looking scruffier every day – and in all honesty, he had never played a sport in his life (unless he counted the times his brothers allowed him to play the part of the Quaffle in their Quidditch matches). However, at the beginning of the year’s Quidditch season, after Cal had approached him about the league, Cass had somehow discovered a love for the games. Maybe he had always been a sports fan deep down, or maybe his unhealthy competitive spirit enjoyed the thought of crushing his opponents and claiming The Maiko as his own. It was difficult to say. Regardless, this was going to be his season.

Quodpot was still a bit of a mystery to the healer, though he had spent a great deal of the summer researching the players for his lineup and reading up on the sport itself. It was different from Quidditch in many ways, the biggest being that the main ball – the Quod – had a nasty tendency to explode. It was apparently the most popular sport in the American wizarding world (he could see why) and Cass couldn’t wait to defeat the rest of the league after so narrowly being beaten by Cal in the Quidditch season.

Listening as Cal welcomed the group to the meeting, Cass couldn’t help but glance over at The Maiko every so often. She was a rather large trophy, practically glistening with victory, the picture of her namesake resting at the top, smiling and looking in turn to each of the league members.

At the word “collusion”, Cass’s eyes narrowed. The Quidditch season had been a harsh one and at some points, things had turned a bit nasty over player trades and other details. Who knew what would happen this season? He reassured himself by remembering that it was all in the spirit of competition.

Once Cal motioned towards the beverages, Cass took that as an invitation to grab a drink. “Yes, hopefully this season we can all remain friendly during the competition,” he grabbed a glass and began pouring, “Speaking of, will we be setting any restrictions on trading players with each other as the season goes on?” He took a drink, and immediately began worrying whether all of his players would even make it through the entire season – after all, an exploding Quod was bound to blow off a limb or two.

Unlike Cass the outsider, Kohaku did look like the athletic type and he worked hard to keep it that way. Otherwise he'd look skinny and gangly like Cass or positively average like Cal. Kohaku had an image to maintain, and looking like a weak little cricket of a man would not fit that image.

Cal was practically a brother, and Kohaku was used to his presence. That was not the case with Cass.  He was not yet used to the rather awkward healer, but to be fair it generally took the squib a long time to warm up to strange wizarding folk. Once they had had an interesting discussion about wizarding illnesses compared to muggle ones. That had been cool until Cass had changed the subject from diseases to insects. How that happened, Kohaku would never know.

He looked at the trophy-- the Maiko. When the day came that his sister was comfortable with it, he would know something was seriously wrong.

Kohaku didn't ccare about restrictions or competition. Okay, he cared about competition-- but what was really important was that his team was made up of the people he wanted. "I claim Slam Hamham and--" He grinned malevolently, "Astral Snowphish Plane."