The Chinese men weren't fools. Witnessing Gemini's wand and the Japanese children's sudden confidence, they recognized they were dealing with forces beyond ordinary understanding. They immediately ceased their advance, pulling their own children protectively behind them while scanning the beach for Gemini's adult companions. Logic dictated that anyone traveling with a young witch would include other magical practitioners—having only this teenage girl as their defender felt dangerously inadequate.
Tony stepped forward, drawing his wand with the fluid motion of someone who'd been practicing. His Japanese was rusty but functional as he managed a few halting words. Whatever he said ignited the Japanese boys like a match to gasoline—they began shouting with renewed venom, their words making Tony's expression progressively darker.
"What are they saying?" Gemini demanded, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.
"Nothing I'm willing to repeat in civilized company," Tony replied through clenched teeth, his face flushed with barely contained rage. Sparks were beginning to dance around his wand tip—a sure sign that his legendary temper was approaching critical mass.
Just as Tony looked ready to introduce these children to some creative American curse work, the situation exploded into chaos. Black-clad figures burst from the distant Japanese buildings, moving with inhuman speed across the sand. Behind them came several ornate sedan chairs, their silk curtains fluttering like battle banners.
Within seconds, the ninja-like figures had reached the confrontation site, forming a protective perimeter as the sedan chairs settled onto the beach with ceremonial precision.
A voice emerged from the largest chair—cultured, speaking English with the kind of aristocratic accent that suggested expensive education and old money: "Children can be so thoughtless, disturbing distinguished guests. Please accept our sincere apologies—appropriate gifts will be sent to your accommodations."
The Japanese boys immediately straightened with renewed arrogance, their expressions shifting to smug triumph. They exchanged rapid comments in their native language before one of them looked directly at Gemini and delivered a single English word with deliberate, calculated malice:
"Bitch."
That was Gemini's breaking point.
As the unofficial terror of Slytherin House and someone who'd faced down Death Eaters without flinching, being insulted by spoiled children was intolerable. Several nonverbal curses flew from her wand with the precision of guided missiles.
A figure exploded from the sedan chair with supernatural speed, interposing himself between the curses and their target. His hands moved in complex patterns, forming what looked like Eastern magical seals that deflected Gemini's spells with contemptuous ease.
The man's fingers shifted, and several streams of sickly black energy launched toward Gemini like striking serpents.
Gemini responded with a sound of pure disdain. Her wand swept downward in a sharp arc, conjuring a blazing white shield that absorbed the dark magic with barely a ripple. The Eastern spells dissolved against her British defenses like mist against sunlight.
Before she could launch a counterattack, golden rope erupted from the sedan chair like a living thing, binding both the Japanese child and his magical protector in coils that gleamed like captured sunlight.
"I believe our negotiations are concluded," came that lazy, aristocratic voice from within the curtained chair. The English was perfectly enunciated, each word dropping into the silence with the weight of absolute authority. "Your side has demonstrated a complete lack of sincerity."
The curtains parted, and a figure emerged that made Gemini's heart skip with recognition and mortification.
Draco Malfoy stepped onto the sand like he was entering a ballroom—platinum hair immaculately styled, charcoal dress robes that probably cost more than most people's annual salaries, and a silver-headed walking stick that tapped against the ground with aristocratic precision. His gray-blue eyes surveyed the scene with the cold assessment of someone accustomed to command.
"Mr. Malfoy!" Yamamoto broke free of the golden bonds with obvious effort, his voice carrying desperate respect. "There's been a misunderstanding! These are merely commoners—I can resolve this disturbance immediately. Please don't let such trivial matters spoil your visit."
"Commoners?" Draco's voice dropped to a temperature that could have frozen Fiendfyre. With deliberate ceremony, he removed his outer robe and cast it toward Gemini. The garment flew through the air as if guided by invisible hands, settling around her shoulders and wrapping her in expensive fabric that smelled of sandalwood and old magic.
"The Malfoy family's in-law. The Black family heir. Sister to Britain's Savior." Each title fell like a judicial pronouncement. "These are your 'commoners,' Mr. Yamamoto?"
Yamamoto's face went through several colors before settling on a sickly gray. He seemed to shrink physically as the implications hit him.
"I believe you can expect to receive Britain's formal displeasure very soon," Draco continued with the kind of smile that had made Hogwarts students check their food for poison. "The Ministry takes a dim view of threats against the Potter family."
He turned to Gemini, his expression shifting from diplomatic menace to familial exasperation. "Cover yourself properly. What would your mother say if she saw you like this?" He adjusted the robe's collar with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd been managing Gemini's public image for years. "Weren't you supposed to be in America?"
Gemini felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Being caught by family while having fun was mortifying enough—being caught while wearing a swimsuit and hexing people was approaching social death.
"I brought my employees and friends to watch the World Cup," she managed, trying to salvage some dignity. "These people attacked Peter without provocation."
"Watch your posture," Draco commanded, his voice carrying the authority of someone who'd been correcting her behavior since childhood. "You're a Black family heiress, not some common beach brawler. Where are your proper clothes? Go change immediately."
Yamamoto attempted to approach, desperation making him bold. "Mr. Malfoy, please! This was a misunderstanding! My son didn't mean—"
Draco turned with predatory grace, his walking stick extending to press against Yamamoto's chest with just enough force to make breathing uncomfortable.
"Malfoy family business is not subject to your input," he said with the kind of quiet menace that had made Dark Lords reconsider their career choices. "I am the family head, and my patience is not infinite. Remove yourself and your... offspring... before I decide that diplomatic immunity has its limits."
Yamamoto stood frozen for a heartbeat, his face cycling through rage, fear, and calculation before settling on survival instinct. He straightened and delivered a perfect ninety-degree bow to Gemini's group.
"Deepest apologies for this inexcusable disturbance. My unworthy son has brought shame upon our family. They will make proper amends immediately."
Without rising from his bow, Yamamoto unleashed a torrent of furious Japanese at the children. The boys tried to maintain their defiance, but something in their father's tone—or perhaps the magical pressure radiating from Draco—broke their resistance. They shuffled forward and delivered their own bows, but before anyone could respond, Yamamoto straightened and delivered a sharp kick to each child, sending them sprawling.
More rapid Japanese followed, and the children quickly arranged themselves in what Gemini recognized as dogeza—the most formal and humiliating form of Japanese apology. They knelt with their faces pressed to the sand, repeatedly crying "Sumimasen!" in voices that carried genuine terror.
The Chinese families exchanged uncomfortable glances and began moving their own children away from the scene. While they appreciated the vindication, this level of formal humiliation over a beach dispute suggested they might face retaliation later.
That's when the sky exploded.
"WHAT'S ALL THIS COMMOTION?!"
The bellow came from directly overhead, followed by a streak of golden light that impacted the beach like a falling star. Sand erupted in all directions as a crater appeared beside the crowd, revealing a rotund elderly man spitting out mouthfuls of beach and glaring around with murderous intent.
"Which bastard wants to mess with our kids?!" he roared in a dialect so thick that even Tony's translation software would have surrendered.
Tony stared in bewilderment. "I thought I was getting better at Chinese, but I didn't understand a single word of that."
A young man immediately separated from the Chinese group—barely eighteen, with the kind of respectful urgency that suggested family connection. He approached the crater-dwelling elder while explaining the situation in the same impenetrable dialect, his hands moving in animated gestures that helped convey meaning where words failed.
The Chinese father who'd been translating earlier leaned toward Gemini's group. "He's asking what happened and who threatened the children. Some of these regional expressions are... difficult to translate politely."
After receiving his briefing, the elderly man climbed out of his self-made crater and fixed Yamamoto and his still-prostrating children with a glare that could have melted steel. When he spoke again, his dialect was still thick, but the meaning was universally clear: Get out. Now.
Yamamoto took one look at the newcomer—noting the casual crater creation, the complete lack of concern for magical concealment, and the aura of someone who'd ended conflicts by ending people—and decided that discretion was the better part of survival.
He delivered one final bow to Draco, gathered his humiliated children, and retreated toward the Japanese buildings with the speed of someone who'd just realized they were dramatically outclassed.
The elderly man watched them go with satisfaction, then turned to Gemini's group with a cheerful grin that was somehow more terrifying than his previous fury.
"I'm Sun Aihua from the Laojun Mountain Laojun Temple Enforcement Hall," he announced in heavily accented but comprehensible English. "Those cowards won't bare their teeth here again. Everyone can go back to enjoying the beach!"
Seeing the unified bewilderment on the foreign faces, Old Sun delivered a sharp slap to his young companion's head, sending the boy tumbling across the sand.
"Silly child! Translate properly! These are important guests!"
The young man picked himself up, rubbing his head ruefully. "Grandfather says welcome to our beach, and he apologizes for the disturbance. He also says the Japanese won't cause any more trouble."
Draco observed this byplay with the detached interest of someone cataloging potential allies and threats. His walking stick tapped once against the sand—a subtle signal that made the golden ropes binding the remaining Japanese figures dissolve into sparkling motes.
"An interesting day at the beach," he murmured to Gemini. "Perhaps next time you'll consider more... conventional vacation activities?"
Gemini pulled his robe tighter around herself, still processing the mortification of being rescued by her brother-in-law while wearing a swimsuit and hexing people on a public beach.
"Next time," she muttered, "I'm going to Disneyland."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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