Title: Untalented
Rating:T
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Edgar Clogg
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em - not making any money off 'em. Dern it.
Word Count: 1,198
Summary: As Edgar Clogg lives in the present, he thinks about his love of Quidditch, and how he suffered when he was alive because of it.
Notes: Edgar Cloggs was a ghost who has been hanging around the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts for as long as anyone can remember. He was willing to help the Quidditch teams of Hogwarts practise.
Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition: Season 2 – Round 10 – Montrose Magpies -Chaser 2 – Write about Edgar Clogg (Ghost).You may write about your character in their human life if you wish, however he must feature as their ghost somewhere in your story. Likewise, your ghost doesn't have to be the main focus of your fic, but he must play an important role to the plot. Prompts - 1. (Word) sinking / 4. (Word) confined / 11. (Dialogue) "I'm still here."
Greek Mythology Category Competition: Agon - Write about someone who is competitive or a competition itself
Pokemon Trading Card Collection Challenge: Dragalge – Silver - (action) Someone spitting at another character.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry: Potions - Task – Use the colors in order. (Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, Red, Orange). Item: Bottle
Edgar Clogg floated above the ground, his eyes watching the Quidditch practice as the Hufflepuffs in their bright yellow jerseys screamed and laughed joyously. Most of the students thought he was confined to the pitch—that he couldn't leave it due to some kind of ghostly restriction—but that wasn't the truth. He wasn't like Myrtle. He preferred to stay on the Quidditch pitch with its green grass and beautiful goal posts. It was not only where he felt safest, but it was also where he was at his happiest. It was his home, and it had been for a very long time.
He loved watching the Quidditch practices and games. He had always loved the game, even when he was alive. Of course, he had never been on the team.
As he watched the practice continue, he remembered his very first tryout, when he was a second year.
It was a hot day. The sky was bright blue, and there was very little cloud cover when he matched up to someone on the pitch. "I want to be a Chaser," Edgar announced.
Captain Rookes crossed his arms over his impressive chest. "Well, we'll see what you have."
And see Rookes did. Edgar, along with two others—a third year named Craig and a fourth year name David—were grouped together for their tryout.
Craig and David expertly passed the Quaffle to one another. And every time one of them tried to pass the Quaffle to Edgar, he either dropped it or didn't even come close to catching it. Not even his lucky purple shirt made any difference, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Edgar knew his dream wouldn't be coming true this year.
Edgar wasn't surprised when both Cecelia and David made the Ravenclaw team, and Edgar's name was suspiciously absent.
It was disappointing, but Edgar knew he didn't deserve a spot on the team.
He wouldn't give up, though. Thankfully, everyone but the Captain didn't have locked positions, and every spot could have a new player if they were better than the previous player.
He would practice all year, and next year, he'd make the team.
Edgar watched Marcus Flint run his team through their paces. Marcus sat on his broom, barking orders at the others."I'm still here," Edgar happily sing-songed.
Marcus didn't look at him. "I'm ignoring you."
"If you need my help, though—"
"I don't need your help. Go away and bother someone else."
When Edgar still didn't leave, Marcus looked at him and spat at him, literally. The spit might not bother him because he was a ghost, but it was still rude.
Edgar flew away as he pouted. He wanted to help. Why wouldn't they let him help?
If he had been a player on his team, he would have accepted any and all help.
Edgar thought back to when he realized he would never be a Chaser on his house team, and how he felt about it.
It was fifth year, and he was once again lining up with other hopefuls, hoping to secure a place on the Ravenclaw team as a Chaser. There was a lot of competition this year; so many second years had come for the tryouts, but Edgar wasn't that worried about them. Second years were almost never picked.
Still, Edgar was forced to watch as everyone get complimented, but no one had a nice thing to say to him. He stared at the ground, his heart feeling heavy.
A heavy hand clamped on his shoulder, and he looked up into Ben's kind blue eyes. "Edgar, you've tried out every year since your second year."
"I know," Edgar muttered.
"I can't understand why you keep trying and facing the disappointment."
"I love the game. I love competition. I love flying. Why wouldn't I tryout?"
Ben gave him a comforting squeeze. "Edgar, you have a lot of enthusiasm, and it's obvious that you love the game. You just don't have the talent to be on the team. I hoped you would figure it out for yourself, so I wouldn't have to say it, but you won't ever make the team. No matter how much you try, you'll never be good enough. Stop putting yourself through this. Learn when to walk away from a hopeless case."
Edgar watched Ben walk away to chat with a possible Keeper. 'Hopeless?' Edgar thought. That was when he decided this year was his last year trying out.
And it was. It was even worse because Ben picked a second year to be on the team. Edgar still loved the game, but he was through with trying out, only to be ignored.
That was why he enjoyed helping the school's current teams. It was the closest he was able to get to Quidditch. And most of the Captains were receptive to help. The only one who didn't like it was Slytherins.
Edgar shrugged. It was Slytherin's loss.
The next Quidditch game was between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and like always, the competition between the two houses was fierce.
Edgar happily watched as the twins with their shocking red hair expertly hit the Bludgers towards their opponents.
He floated, waiting for something to happen. And just as Harry Potter saw the snitch, Edgar saw it. The Chasers did a maneuver. Angelina pointed her broomstick towards one of Slytherin's Chasers and raced towards him. The Slytherin almost seemed to go orange in complexion, terrified of what was happening.
With Alicia and Katie backing her up, one of the Beaters was distracted and unable to aim any Bludgers at Harry, while Fred and George took care of the other Beater. And then Harry had the Snitch and the game was over. Gryffindor won. 320-130.
Edgar smiled widely. That was his idea. They used it, and it helped them win. He watched as the girls cheered widely. The boys joined them, all gleeful in their victory.
Edgar stayed away, allowing them to enjoy their win.
That night, as he floated by himself, reminiscing about when he was alive, he was surprised to see the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "Why are you guys here?"
They all had open bottles of Butterbeer.
Oliver stepped forward. "We wouldn't have thought of that without you. We owe you our win."
Edgar shook his head. "No you don't. I think you would have won without my idea. You're all very talented." 'Unlike me,' Edgar added silently.
"Maybe," Angelina conceded, "But your idea made it easier."
"You're a brilliant strategist," Katie added.
Edgar tilted his head. Strategist, huh? Maybe he could have done that when he was alive to help his team. He wouldn't have been playing, but at least he would have been a part of the team.
Too bad he hadn't thought about it back then. He had been simply too upset about not being talented enough to be a player to think of other ways he could contribute.
The taste in his mouth was bittersweet as he discovered what he was good at so late, when he was already a ghost. He could still use his talents to help the Quidditch teams at least. That would have to be enough.