The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 5, Round 9 – Gear Up!
Montrose Magpies
CHASER 3: Broom: Write about a witch or wizard gaining freedom
Optional Prompts:
4. (setting) a Quidditch pitch
11. (word) grass-stain
15. (word) slate
Wordcount: 935
To Be Free
"Mr. Bagman, Mr. Bagman!" a short, brown-haired witch called out, waving her magical microphone around and nearly hitting one of her rivals in the head in the process.
"Oh, please, do call me Ludo." The famous Quidditch player waved the formalities off with a wide, practised grin that was aimed directly at the reporter in question for maximum effect. "All this 'Mr. Bagman' nonsense makes me feel so old."
"Yes, of course, Mr. — ehm, Ludo," the witch corrected herself quickly, eager to get on with her questions while she still had the man's full attention. "There have been some rumours flying around the Wizarding World lately, implying that you might not be renewing your contract with the Wimbourne Wasps. Is there anything you can tell us about this?"
The unruly flock of representatives from all kinds of newspapers and magazines — both local and national, as well as quite a few international ones — fell silent, waiting for the answer to the question that had been on the tip of the tongue for every single one of them that day.
"I can confirm that the rumours are true," the blond man replied solemnly, but with an air of ease that showed he was not at all surprised when his words caused an explosion of follow-up questions.
"Every single team in this country wants you," the persistent little witch continued loudly, while sharply elbowing a man both taller and wider than herself in the side to maintain her spot and right to keep questioning the object of all of their fascination. "Have you given any thought to which one you are going to choose?"
"Your fans are dying to know!" the male reporter piped up through his pain, clutching his ribs tightly with the hand not currently occupied with his recording equipment.
As silence descended again, Ludo found himself amazed, once again, by the complete control one man could have over the level of sound coming from a crowd of people. They would scream and shout, or fall absolutely silent, depending on his words and moves. It was quite a wonderful feeling, after all. Being the center of attention. Being listened to. He couldn't help but enjoy the moment. The quiet before the storm, as it were. His audience didn't know what was about to hit them. He found himself smiling secretly, thinking back to earlier the same night.
The audience in the stands surrounding Ludo Bagman had been cheering and booing in equal measure, but either way, they had all been screaming themselves hoarse. Even through the relentless wind and the pouring rain, he could hear it all clearly.
It was one of the most brutal Quidditch matches he had ever played — he even fell off his broom twice — but it was all worth it in the end.
He was finally free.
Free from the unfair and legally binding contract that he never should have signed in the first place. It was a hard-learned lesson into never putting one's signature on any official document without reading the fine print carefully, preferably in the presence of a good lawyer. But such was the thoughtlessness and inherent optimism of youth. Having been the newest young talent of the Quidditch World, why would anyone try to trick him? He had never expected that any of the teams clamoring to get him to choose them over the rest of them would take advantage of his inexperience like that. But they had used any opportunity that presented itself to squeeze him for every drop of talent he had. Anything that could give them an advantage in the tournaments. At least he knew better now.
So standing under the glaring lights in the middle of the Quidditch pitch along with the rest of the players on his team, his trousers colourfully littered with mud and grass-stains that would not ever come out of them again, he had never felt such a rush of triumph in his whole life. It was time to start all over again, with a completely clean slate.
The torn fabric of his right sleeve was fluttering madly in the harsh breeze as he held the arm high, his trusted Beater's bat clutched firmly in his grip. There was a moment when both teams' Seekers had been diving for the Golden Snitch, side by side, and both the audience and the other players had held their collective breath in anticipation. He had thought one of the rival team's Beaters was going to claw his arm right off in the fight for the Bludger then. It was the most important few seconds in his career, in his life. If he got the chance to use the Bludger against the other team's Seeker, their victory would be guaranteed.
And he did.
The game was won, and his end of the contract was fulfilled. From that moment on, he could do whatever he wanted. No one had any say in how he chose to live his life anymore. Anything was possible.
The crowd was beginning to get impatient, shifting their weight from leg to leg, then falling still when the Quidditch star visibly took a deep breath to bestow upon them the answers to all of their questions.
It was time for the big revelation.
"This is a very important decision, and I have given it a lot of thought," he began calmly, trying to stay serious, even though he was feeling almost giddy with the relief of his newfound freedom. "From this moment on, I am retiring from professional Quidditch."
Their reaction did not disappoint.