TALE I : From Nantes to Southampton
It seemed like the boat was ringing the lunch time with his siren at entering the Mayflower Terminal. So it's with his meal in the mouth that Matthaeus Jupiter disembarked. Clandestinely. Not that he was unable to pay the crossing. But the travel from Nantes to le Havre had been a little bit tiring and he didn't wanted to have to support again this annoying guy of the train, with his endeless speeches about the last episode of this saga about Space Ships and Death Star or something like that.
As Jupiter expected it, two guys of the D.M.L.E. local office waited on him :
"Sir, can you follow us ?
No need to protest. Jupiter didn't wish to end in cell.
They leaded them to the office of the docks. Entering a small hall, they arrived in a small and poorly-lit room, with a counter behind which sat an employee eating a sandwich. Without a word, the two guys invited Jupiter to enter a broom closet on the left. Under the look of the office worker who clearly didn't care.
The closet was dusty, but wide enough for a person furthermore. The guy who talked pulled a magic wand from his coat, touched a broom and muttered :
-Damn, sayed the other, i begin to be hungry !
-Lunch Break coming up, comrade.
-Finally ! It was about time."
As they speaked, the back wall of closet seemed litterally melting in front of them, creating a passage leading to a rounded room with a circular counter on its center and seats all around.
More lit and spacious than the muggle office, but with a still strict decoration set. Above the counter, floated magically a sign on which was written :
SOUTHAMPTON DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT
-Administrative Registration Department-
Decidedly, from one world to another, the fun in the administrative services was a notion to be forgotten.
Showing him a ticket distributor, one of his guides sayed.
"Please, take a ticket and wait here."
Jupiter thanked them by a small head sign and saw them leaving the room by another door.
He went to the distributor and pull a blue ticket on which was written :
Good afternoon, Mr. Jupiter !
Your number is the 459.
Our employees will take care of you as soon as possible.
Thank you !
Looking quickly around him, he could see few wizards and witches already waiting on the seats. He took it in his stride. It shouldn't be long....
It was not like if Southampton was a prior choice for Matthaeus Jupiter. Actually, it was the muggles who gave him the idea. After he saw by accident a commercial about the english town on a "Teevee" shop. The name pleased him and he was curious to see it.
And after all, things came rather good ! It was time to leave the cocoon and apply his teachers lessons and advices on the ground ! Good chaser himself in his recent student years in Beauxbatons, he really found his way in his 6th Year by assisting the Professor Joséphine Marat (the French Quidditch star herself !) to manage the School Teams. After obtaining an average but favorable score on his exams, Marat, feeling the potential of his student, sended Jupiter near her former team mate Hildegarde Lafarge, now trainer of The Nantes Vapor Trails. A internship of two years full of teachings....
"NUMBER 459 !!"
Returning with difficulty to the reality, he didn't heard that it was the third time that his number was called.
He quickly arrived at the office. Here, a little convenient witch focused on her registers grumbled :
"'d afternon, mister.... Jupiter.
-Reason of your presence in the town !
Irritated, the woman looked on him.
-I said "Reason of... For God Sake !! Listen, sir, there's peoples who waiting. Could you take your REAL appearance, now, please ??"
This was certainly not the first Animagus who was presenting to her. But Jupiter could understand that speaking to a black labrador was not the better way to make the things go faster.
He took back his human appearance, revealing a medium sized guy dressed with a modern slim and an elegant V neck sweat, under a marine undercoat. The guy himself was recognizible with his short brown hairs finishing in prominent sideburns on his cheeks, contrasting with a little and fine mustach. A brown sailor bag on his back ended the description.
"-Apologizes, i wasn't paying attention.
-Tsss... Reason of your presence in the town ?
-Coming from ?
-How long will you stay, sir ?
-Not sure again.
-Huhum... Papers please.
Opening the front pocket of his bags, he pulled his identity card and gave it to the jaded woman.
After a small but focused look, she gave it back with a administrative paper and said.
-... Seems good, sir. Sign here, please."
Jupiter pulled his wand from his sleeve, a 9 1/4" Apple wand with a Jackalope Antler Core stranded on his middle and a rounded hole on the basis, and brushed the paper.
His signature was beginning to appear when the employee took back the paper, rolled it, and stocked it with others documents on a cupboard by waving her wand.
"Welcome to Southampton, sir !
Polite, at least.
-Thank you, madam. Happy Holiday Seasons"
No troublemaker was on the area, so Jupiter didn't see why he should have to take his dog form again. So it's as a human that he leaved the cold docks.
As the Port Entrance, he see a familiar face. He took a smile :
"Hello, little Pug !
-A problem, Egg Man ?
-Good to see you, bro !
-Was a long time, Art !! Happy Christmas !" Art Skone took his friend in a short and manly embrace.
"Egg Man" was maybe the most accurate nickname that could be applied to Art Skone. Indeed, this fun-loving englishman had the particularity to be completely bald and almost plain. It was like to see an egg. An egg with a face.
The two guys met in Quiberon Quafflepunchers. Older than Jupiter, Skone made a one-year but noticed passage as rookie beater. He was 26. As the end of his not-renewed contract arrived, Skone returned in his native Southampton to try to integrate a local team. But the cheerful attitude of the guy was never forgotten by Jupiter and the Skone departure marked the beginning of a regular and friendly epistolary relationship.
"Happy Christmas, boy ! Come with me, we have much to talk ! And much to do !"
They leaved the port and sank into a city cooled by winter.