Playing Mahjong?

"Back in the day, I heard wizards used to get to school by their own means—some rode Flying Broomsticks, others used Floo Powder straight to Hogsmeade—but after the International Statute of Secrecy was enacted in 1692, that all had to stop. Too many wizards were getting exposed to Muggle eyes, and it added a huge burden to the Ministry of Magic." Charles McKinnon seemed to know this history well and launched into a lengthy explanation.

So that's how it was. But how to kill the hours on the road? Reading? Anduin glanced at his two companions and felt it would be rude to just bury his head in a book and ignore them.

"Hey, since we've got all this time to kill, how about I teach you a game?" Anduin suggested to the two.

"Sure, nothing else to do anyway. What'll it be—Wizard Chess or Gobstones?" Charles, though he'd started off acting cynical, couldn't hide his childish nature at the mention of a game.

"It's a mysterious game from a great Eastern country. Normally it's for four players, but three works too. I'll teach you." Anduin pulled a set of Mahjong tiles from his luggage and started pitching it to them.

Anduin was confident they wouldn't be able to resist the charm of Mahjong.

But now they needed a table. His Transfiguration was only so-so—he couldn't just conjure one up.

"Got it." Anduin looked at the small table by the windowsill, pulled out his wand, and cast a Lengthening Charm.

The little table at the edge of the compartment instantly extended by a section.

"There, that'll do." Anduin's Mahjong set was a compact one, about the size of Japanese Mahjong tiles, so a smaller table would barely work.

And so the three gathered around the table, and Anduin began his lesson. Since he'd taught the kids at the orphanage how to play Mahjong himself, he had plenty of experience and explained the rules in just a few sentences. These tiles were International Mahjong, bought specifically because they'd been playing with foreigners who couldn't read Chinese—even the Wanzi tiles had Arabic numerals marked in the corners, so there was no issue with understanding the content.

"That's about it for the rules. Let's play a couple rounds first, and I'll teach as we go."

"Sounds so complicated. Are these little blocks actually fun to play with?" Vivian, her head spinning from Anduin's explanation, couldn't help complaining.

"Well, we've got plenty of time. Let's give it a try first," Charles said, finding it interesting and trying to persuade Vivian.

So Charles grabbed a suitcase about the height of a chair, set it on the floor in the aisle across from the table, and sat down. Anduin and Vivian took the chairs on either side, and under Anduin's guidance, the three began to play.

With Anduin's instruction, the two picked up the basics of Mahjong. In half an hour, Vivian had won two hands, and Charles one. Anduin deliberately let them win to deepen their understanding of the game.

"Haha, I won again! This game is really fun!" Vivian said cheerfully as she pushed her tiles over, not a trace of her earlier frustration left.

"How about this—let's make it a competition. When the snack cart comes by, whoever has the lowest score treats everyone," Charles suggested, having a blast and egging them on.

Kids were like that—once they played together, trust and familiarity grew naturally.

"Great, great! I feel like my luck's really hot right now," Vivian chimed in.

Anduin chuckled to himself. I was going easy on you, and now you're getting cocky. Let me teach you a lesson—show you what real life feels like.

With that, the three reshuffled the tiles and started a new round.

After a while.

Knock knock. A knock came at the door. The three turned to see a middle-aged woman selling snacks, asking if they wanted anything.

Anduin's expression was a bit sour. In nearly two full rounds, he'd lost almost every hand.

What the hell? Are these two really first-timers? How are they this good? Or am I just that bad? Anduin grumbled inwardly.

Especially Vivian—it was like she'd suddenly unlocked a whole new world, winning hand after hand and often calling Anduin's discards. He was starting to regret teaching them.

"Haha, Anduin, hurry up! You lost the most—treat us to snacks!" Vivian's eyes curved into two crescent moons as she called out cheerfully.

"I know, I know. How the hell are you this lucky?" Anduin sighed, pulled out his wallet, and bought one of every snack.

The three then dug in heartily in the compartment.

"Try this Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans—they come in all sorts of tastes," Charles said, a licorice stick in his mouth, grabbing a handful of candies and handing them to Anduin.

"Ugh." Anduin nearly gagged after one bite. He'd gotten an earwax-flavored one.

As for how he knew it was earwax—don't ask. Let's just say he guessed.

Vivian and Charles burst into heartless laughter at the sight.

Anduin didn't have the courage to try any more of those candies and instead munched on a Chocolate Frog.

Of all the snacks, he found the Chocolate Frog the most palatable. The rest were either too sweet or had weird flavors, like those Every Flavor Beans.

Inside the wrapper was a card introducing famous wizards and their achievements. The one Anduin held featured 'Hengist of Woodcraft,' said to be the founder of Hogsmeade, Britain's only all-wizard village.

Anduin looked at the card, then out the train window, feeling more and more anticipation for the magical world.

The three kept chatting and joking as they ate.

Vivian was still rambling, never going more than three sentences without mentioning her family—how great they were, what they did. Anduin's ears were practically numb, but he had to keep smiling.

Honestly, for a girl like Vivian, Anduin figured someone with high emotional intelligence would call her spirited; someone with low EQ would just call her a chatterbox.

Charles, now comfortable with the two, had opened up too. Aside from his ever-present resentment toward Death Eaters, he talked most about Quidditch. When he found out Anduin and Vivian weren't very familiar with the wizarding sport, he started explaining the rules in detail, rattling off teams and players from various countries like they were old friends.

Anduin couldn't quite understand how such a brutal sport like Quidditch existed in the magical world. Listening to Charles list all the fouls and recount who got killed or maimed by a Bludger in which match, he felt a strange dissonance in this magical world—on one hand, convenient magic; on the other, all sorts of raw savagery.