The team arrived back on the pitch just in time to line up and march out to the sound of hundreds of cheering fans. Ludwig and Gilbert, the Captain and Keeper respectively were first, followed by Gilbert and Max, then Kurstin and Wolfgang taking up the rear. Before they walked out, Ludwig glanced next to him at Gilbert and offered a small smile.
"You alright?" he asked quietly.
Gilbert looked at him and squeezed his broomstick tightly, grinning. "Yes," he said. His eyes were still a little bit red and Ludwig could tell that he was tired, however his smile was genuine. "We're going to win."
"You have to make sure we do," Ludwig said.
"Not just me," Gilbert countered. "We're a team. We all have to."
Ludwig smiled ever so slightly at that. "You're right," he said. "We'll do it."
The team name was announced and that was their prompting to go out. Johann wished them luck and hung back, no doubt with a hurt look on his face. It was difficult for him to sit this game out. Johann, perhaps more than any other player on the team, lived for the games. He genuinely loved Quidditch, and being in the air, and competition. It irritated Ludwig that, even though it was Ludwig who technically broke the rules, Johann was punished for it.
Well, there wasn't much to be done now. The team had practiced long and hard, and they had a strategy in place that, if successful, would give them a shot. That's all they needed. It was an uphill climb and everybody knew that.
"...Due to the controversy over the last match against Soltau, the Berlin Badgers are barred from having their Seeker on the pitch! It's all up to Marcel Klein, Seeker of the Heidelberg Harriers, to catch the Snitch and end the game…"
Ludwig heard the announcer layout the rules for this special game. Despite the controversy, he could hear from the crowds that the stands were packed with Badger supporters. He glanced into the stands and saw several with banners proclaiming their adoration to Gilbert, including a tightly-packed group of Gilbert's classmates, who had made their own banners and shouted and waved at him. That was at least promising. Perhaps they wouldn't lose their sponsorships, even if they lost this game-
No. There would be no 'losing' this game. That was, simply, not an option.
The balls were released and up in the air the players went. The whistle blew, and the match had begun.
The Badgers had a very simple beginning strategy - Max and Ludwig were to funnel all of their efforts on taking out the Harriers' Keeper. After the Keeper was eliminated, it would be easy for Frederick, Wolfgang, and Kurstin to score as many points as possible without any hindrance. It was their job of course to not only score as often as they could, but avoid the Beaters who would be trying to knock them off the field. In response, Ludwig and Max would work on also eliminating the Beaters from the pitch.
The less Harriers on the field, the better. If Ludwig could have it his way, he would only allow the Seeker to perform, and score after his Badgers had scored over 160 points.
As instructed, Max and Ludwig immediately went about finding the Bludgers in the field and swinging them aggressively towards the Heidelberg Keeper. He was tricky, however, and avoided any attacks, until twenty minutes in.
Frederick and Max had formed their own strategy in the air - Frederick threw a Quaffle towards the goal as bait and, as the Keeper reached for it, Max delivered a Bludger his way. It smashed the Keeper's jaw, he hit the edge of the goalpost in the collision, and was out of the match.
"And the Harriers have lost their Keeper! What a play on the part of brothers Max and Frederick Kemper of Berlin…"
Ludwig passed a nod of approval to the brothers who were high-fiving each other in the air, and now, phase one was complete. The attention was turned to Heidelberg's three Chasers.
Without an opposing Keeper, scoring became significantly easier. The score at the end of two hours was 110 for Berlin, and 40 for Heidelberg. Still, despite the fact that Berlin was ahead, they were not making the grounds they needed to in order to win. The Chasers were quick and clever, and kept Gilbert busy, to say the least. He had begun to take every shot with his own body, taking Quaffles squarely in the chest, shins, and even his face at one point, earning him a bloody nose that he had no choice but to ignore.
Gilbert is capable, Ludwig told himself as he knocked a Bludger from colliding into Kurstin. He doesn't need help or worry.
Six hours went by before Ludwig even realized it. The score was 280 to 190. Berlin was winning, vastly, however those points meant nothing if Heidelberg caught the Snitch at this point.
Ludwig was keenly aware of the abuse that Gilbert was taking, as the last hour of play he had let more goals slip through him than his norm, and finally he knew he had to call a time-out when a Bludger hit Frederick near him, striking his temple. Frederick crumpled off his broom and hit the ground.
Max was already on the way to the ground before Ludwig even called the time out. Everyone was grounded.
Medics had already taken Frederick aside and looked him over. "He's alright," one of them said, mostly to Max who looked the most terrified. "Just unconscious. We'll get some ice on it and do some other checks to make sure there isn't any brain damage-"
"Brain damage-" Max choked.
"To make sure there ISN'T brain damage. But he's out for the match, even if he comes-to."
While the medic was trying to comfort Max, Ludwig turned his attention to Gilbert, who stood with one hand holding his broom, and the other hand pulling his sleeve over his nose. "Is it still bleeding?" he asked.
"Not as much as before," Gilbert said. "It stops and starts...being up in the air doesn't help, either."
"Tilt your head back, I'll get someone to stop it shortly," Ludwig said. He went off and soon enough found another medic. With a flick of his wand, Gilbert's nose was corrected and the bleeding stopped. "How are you otherwise?"
"Bruised, a bit tired, but otherwise fine," Gilbert said with a small smile. "Tomorrow's going to be a bitch, though."
Ludwig offered a light smile and patted his shoulder - lightly. "Take a toilet break and get something to eat. You're starting to slip, we can't have that. It's your first...well, big game, really. But it's not over yet."
Johann was making himself useful and providing the team with drinks and some energy-boosting spells. This wasn't Ludwig's longest match - not by a long shot - but it was certainly his most difficult.
"We have a good team," Kurstin said, offering Ludwig a cup of water. "I'm pleasantly surprised we've done as well as we have."
Ludwig glaned at her, taking a long drink. "Well our Keeper is bloody and bruised and we just lost our first Chaser, so-"
"But we still have a chance," she said. "Just a few more points we need to score in order to win when they catch the Snitch."
'Just a few' was an understatement. "Sixty," the Captain gruffed. "We need sixty. That's still a climb, especially without a Chaser."
"We scored eighty in our first hour," Kurstin pointed out, finishing her drink. "Don't count us out just yet."
Ludwig glanced over at his team. Max was kneeling next to Frederick, fretting over him as if it was the first time he had been knocked out during a game (it most certainly wasn't). Wolfgang and Kurstin were consulting with each other, no doubt strategizing. Gilbert was off in the corner, drinking a cup of coffee and stretching his body out..
"I do have faith," he murmured to nobody in particular.
After half an hour they returned to the pitch, this time without both a Seeker and a Chaser. It was difficult to pry Max away from his brother but Ludwig resolved him to turn that worry into determination and to beat the shit out of the Chaser who had knocked off Frederick (legally, of course). It was just the five of them now, but with the loss of Frederick came the rise in team morale. They would win. They had to win. Gilbert vowed not to let a single Quaffle through his hoops.
Up in the air they went, and the game resumed. Indeed the team seemed to benefit from their short break. Max was as ruthless as ever, seeming bound and determined to completely immobilize the Harriers. Kurstin and Wolfgang worked strongly together to score even more goals, and Gilbert was not letting his worn body from stopping pitches. In two hours not a single Quaffle went through his grasp.
Two hours turned into four. It was into the tenth hour of the game, and while the evening had just set in and the lights turned on, the crowd was still as strong as ever and neither team showed any signs of slipping. Ludwig, after a while, had stopped paying attention to the scoring, both out of sheer determination to the task at hand, and out of an inability to continue to worry about the score and focus on his team and his duties as Beater. Perhaps, for the first time that entire season, he left his team to their duties completely and totally - he did not think about scoring because some part of him had settled his paranoia that they could never be good enough to actually succeed against all odds. They would win or they would lose, but either way they had performed remarkably.
Ten and a half hours into the game, the crowd suddenly went wild and he barely heard the announcer over the noise - "The Snitch! Heidelberg Seeker Marcel Klein has caught the Snitch!"
The entire field stopped and looked at the scoreboard. It was the first time in hours that Ludwig had even registered what any of the numbers meant, nonetheless done the math to figure out if they still had a chance or not.
The Berlin Badgers had scored a total of 530 points. The Heidelberg Harriers, with the 150 points from the Snitch, ended the match with 510.
They had won the game.
Ludwig almost fell over his broom when the scores were revealed. The crowd was so loud, he almost couldn't hear his own thoughts. Slowly he and the other players grounded and immediately he was greeted by Kurstin first, hugging him and nearly shrieking from joy.
"We did it! We did it! We won!" Kurstin was absolutely beside herself, almost crying. "I can't believe we won!"
Ludwig was in shock. How in God's name did they pull that off? With five players, against one of the most intense teams in the League... He glanced over next to him and saw Gilbert running at high speed, his broomstick held high in the air, a wild grin on his face.
"We won the match!" Gilbert shouted as he ran towards Ludwig and, in a moment of complete, unbridled joy, jumped into the air, wrapped his arms around Ludwig's neck, and kissed him hard on the lips.
The sudden and unannounced public display of affection shocked Ludwig so much, he could not respond. Instead he just had his arms around Gilbert to support him, but before he could even think to react, Gilbert had pulled away and was instead just laughing from joy.
He slowly glanced away, at the crowds, at his Wolfgang, who was supporting Kurstin on his back as she cheered wildly still (Max was already off the field; this was way too much noise and excitement for him), and then back to Gilbert. He took the Keeper's hand and lifted both of their arms into the air. They had done it. Against all odds, they had won.
"Thank you," he said to Gilbert, who looked up at him.
"For what?" Gilbert asked, still catching his breath from the excitement.
This part was difficult for Ludwig to articulate. What was he thankful to Gilbert for? He was just doing his job, really. A Keeper was supposed to keep the hoops, and that's what Gilbert did. Except well, there was just a few things different about this Keeper.
"Just...for...you, being...as...talented as you are," Ludwig finally said, even though that wasn't at all what he meant.
The boy grinned at him and squeezed Ludwig's hand. "Well thank you too! For being you!"
Of course Ludwig was instantly embarrassed and soon exited the field after sharing the customary post-game handshake with the opposing team.
Though the team usually had drinks at their usual pub after a match, the team unanimously agreed that they were all way too exhausted to enjoy any fanfare that night. It was late, and after ten and a half hours of playing at their maximum, and all everybody wanted to do was sleep. Even Johann, who was grounded the entire match, had worried and fretted himself into exhaustion. So, after posing for only a few photographs for the press, Max and Kurstin went to the hospital to be with Frederick, whilst the rest of the team went home.
When Ludwig and Gilbert arrived back at the house, both had calmed down from their excitement. Things between them were quiet and almost awkward.
"Ludwig," Gilbert said quietly as he took his leather padding off and inspected his bruises underneath - some of them already looked quite nasty after taking several direct hits. "I'm sorry if, uh, I was a bit forward back there on the pitch."
The Beater glanced back at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"
"Well I didn't mean to, you know, jump on you like that and kiss you. I guess I just got very excited and lost control of myself. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
Ludwig remembered that moment and was indeed uncomfortable. But only for a moment - in the moment he wasn't exactly thinking about the deeper implications of it. "It's fine," he said finally with a smile. "I understand. Go to sleep, Gilbert." He put one gentle hand on the boy's shoulder before they went off to their respective rooms. Ludwig was still reeling from winning the game, and worried about Frederick and Gilbert and his entire team practically, just because it was Ludwig and that was what he just did, before finally his exhaustion caught up with him and he fell sound asleep.
The next morning Ludwig slept in against his will. There was no practice that day, Sunday, anyways. The team usually used it to rest and relax, and for Gilbert to catch up with his homework. He was stiff and sore from the match before, but when he went into the kitchen and saw Gilbert digging through the refrigerator to find things to eat and noticed him practically hobbling along, he realized that his own sore limbs might not have been that bad.
"You alright?" he asked as he watched Gilbert struggle slightly to pour himself a cup of coffee.
"Yeah," Gilbert smiled at him. "Just sore but that's alright. Any spell to get rid of that?" he asked sheepishly.
Ludwig smiled at him. "I'm pretty sure there's something out there, but the best thing is just rest. Not everything can be solved with magic."
"I heard from Kurstin." Gilbert began to pour Ludwig coffee as well. "She said to come to the hospital - Frederick came-to and he's fine. So she thought he might enjoy our company.
"Sounds good, we'll go after breakfast."
The two quickly apparated to the hospital so they could avoid the press who were still hot to talk to them. Once inside and in Frederick's hospital room, they were greeted with a barrage of flowers and stuffed toys and chocolates and candies from Frederick's army of admirers. Sitting next to him was Max, holding his hand tightly, and Kurstin had just come in from a side room with a glass of water in her hand, placing it next to on the table next to Frederick's bed.
"Gilbert! I heard you kicked ass and took names!" Frederick said happily, ushering the young keeper to his bedside. "You gotta tell me how awesome you were!"
Frederick and Gilbert chatted away like old friends and Ludwig stayed near the door, watching fondly. They could not stay long because Gilbert did have homework that he needed to finish - apparently, game-changing Quidditch matches did not count for homework extensions.
Kurstin came up next to him, a cup of coffee in her hand. She sipped at it idly, watching Ludwig for a moment. "You know," she started, "you should come over to my place sometime. We'll have a chat about...things."
"Things?" Ludwig asked, glancing at her. "What things?"
She raised an eyebrow and gave a sidelong glance at Gilbert before looking back at him. Ludwig's perplexed looked persisted and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "When you figure that out, come over to my place and we'll have a chat."
Ludwig did not understand so he didn't think about it too much, and after an hour or two visit with Frederick, they both left so Ludwig could rest and so Gilbert could finish his homework. He was satisfied enough; Frederick was coherent and it was only a small concussion; a little bit of magic, rest, and probably enough chocolates to start a business would get Frederick back on his feet in time for the next practice, scheduled the next day.
Monday morning, as Gilbert got ready to go to school, Ludwig received word via owl that their practice pitch was being renovated with new sponsor money. So, the practice would take place in Potsdam after receiving permission from the Potsdam Princes to use their pitch. Because of this, he promised to pick up Gilbert after school and take him there himself. Gilbert ended school at noon on Mondays, so on that day the team practiced in the afternoons.
He spent the day mostly making statements and a few interviews for the newspapers and then, when Gilbert's classes were done, he waited outside of Charlottenburg for his Keeper to emerge.
There was the usual crowd leaving at the same time and a few minglers, but after several minutes, Gilbert was nowhere to be seen. This was mildlly irritating, since Ludwig didn't have all day to wait around - especially on a day when Gilbert knew they had to take a few extra minutes to get to practice. You'd think he'd had learned the meaning of promptness after living so long with Ludwig. However, he supposed some things never changed.
Two girls, sisters they looked like, came out with each other, discussing a few things. When they saw Ludwig, they smiled shyly at him. "We were at the match - you were amazing."
"Thank you," Ludwig nodded at them. "Have either of you seen Gilbert? He...might have class with you."
"Oh, we saw one of our lecturers speaking with him, said he had to show him something in another room. But he said it would only take a second. He'll be out soon, if he isn't already." The two girls left, and Ludwig resumed waiting.
Another five minutes passed and Ludwig's patience had ended. He went into Charlottenburg himself, descending to the magical corridors underneath the palace. He passed numerous empty chambers that served as classrooms and soon came upon two lecturers speaking to each other in the hallway.
"Excuse me," Ludwig approached them, trying his best not to seem too rude or impatient. It was difficult though when he was now almost certain they would be late. "Have you two seen Gilbert, my Keeper? He may be one of your students."
One of the lecturers nodded immediately. "I had to see him after class to discuss an upcoming assignment at my office," he said. "But that was...fifteen minutes ago. I dismissed him, I haven't seen him."
Ludwig stared at him for several seconds before taking a deep, long breath. "...Right." So Gilbert was probably distracted somewhere else. God damn it. "Where is your office?"
The man's office was deep within the corridors underneath Charlottenburg and Ludwig had almost made it there on his own when, whilst on his way, he heard a voice coming from another room. He heard a loud, deep voice that sounded somehow threatening.
Approaching with caution, his wand out in his hand and tentatively ready for action, Ludwig peered inside.
It was an empty room save for a few random tables and chairs and some other furniture, but inside were two other figures. One was Gilbert, he recognized immediately. His back was facing the door, but Ludwig could see he was in an incredibly defensive position, his arm extended with his wand out in front of him with pale, shaking fingers. Though Ludwig could not see his face, he could feel the sheer terror that radiated from his body.
His wand was pointed at someone. A tall man in a pressed, grey military uniform slowly approached Gilbert, a gun in his hand and pointed right between Gilbert's eyes.
Ludwig's first thought was not why there was a Stasi officer underneath Charlottenburg. His first thought went to that gun in his hand, finger on the trigger, ready to take Gilbert's life. Gilbert probably didn't even know any offensive spells to defend himself with - he was probably just trying to be as intimidating as possible, but that was completely useless against a man with a gun ready to fire.
The man looked like he was right in the middle of saying something when his eyes locked with Ludwig's. Immediately his face started to change - eyes turned red, brunette hair underneath his cap started to lighten, and Ludwig saw just past his shoulder an open wardrobe. Then it clicked exactly what was happening.
That was no Stasi Officer. That was a Boggart.
Ludwig ran forward and grabbed Gilbert around the torso, pinning his arms to his side and swung them around so Gilbert would no longer be facing the threat. He then turned his face around, facing the thing that was now starting to look more and more like Gilbert, without life or color in his face - it was confused, faced with both Ludwig and Gilbert's fears, but Ludwig did not let it. "Riddikulus!" Ludwig shouted.
The figure's grey uniform instead turned into a Flamenco dress and, with a few more casts, pushed the being back into its wardrobe, the door shutting with a loud bang. The entire time, Ludwig did not remove one arm from around Gilbert, and kept the boy close against him.
Once the Boggart was gone, Ludwig turned his attention back to Gilbert, who was still pale, shaking, and terrified. Ludwig realized that he probably had no idea what a Boggart was, and probably assumed that there was indeed a Stasi officer hiding in a wardrobe, ready to jump out and kill him.
"Gilbert," Ludwig whispered. "It's me, it's Ludwig."
"W-w-what, I-what…" Gilbert could not even form a coherent sentence. His eyes were wide, hands still shaking so hard he could not continue to hold his wand, and it clattered to the ground, forgotten.
Ludwig slowly lowered him so they were both kneeling on the floor and he moved to face Gilbert, holding him close. Just like only the morning before in the warehouse, Gilbert clung to him and buried his face into the man's shoulder.
"That wasn't...that was a Boggart," Ludwig said, gently petting Gilbert's hair. "That wasn't the Stasi. He wasn't going to kill you. Boggarts are creatures that...feed off your worst fear and take the form of it," he explained.
Ludwig glanced over at the wardrobe, now still and quiet, and his only questions were why on earth there was a Boggart in this place to begin with, and what were the circumstances that led to Gilbert alone in an empty room with one. He would have to ask questions and speak to the administrators about this as soon as Gilbert was in good shape.
The boy slowly leaned back and looked up at Ludwig, a cautiously perplexed look on his face. "It wasn't...real?"
"No," Ludwig said quietly. "It turned into the Stasi with a gun because...that's what you're afraid of the most," he said. It made sense, considering what had happened to his family. How many years had Gilbert hid out, afraid the same officers who had killed his father and taken his mother would come for him next? Even with East Germany gone and with it, its oppressive Secret Police force, there was still that lingering fear.
"H-h-he kept saying that I was alone now and nobody would come for me, and that it was my fault that-"
Ludwig silenced him by putting his fingers over Gilbert's lips. "It's not real. None of it was real. Just magic, that's all it was, dark magic that's meant to intimidate and frighten you. But it's not real. I'm here, and you're safe, and nothing will come for you."
Gilbert nodded slowly and gulped, closing his eyes to calm himself down. "I'll be okay," he whispered, and Ludwig could tell it was mostly to himself. Then, in just a moment, he leaned forward and hugged Ludwig tight again.
Automatically, Ludwig hugged him back and kept him close. He glanced over at the wardrobe again, thinking for several moments. The Boggart had begun to change shape when he saw Ludwig, but what was he turning into?
The Stasi officer was tall, with brown eyes, dark hair, and sharp features. However when they changed, the man's hair got lighter, eyes turned red, his form slimmed and his face took on a younger appearance -
Gilbert?
But there was something different. It was not just 'Gilbert'. The red eyes did not hold any sparkle, any life, and his face was without any colour in it at all. Even the angry, harsh expression of the Stasi officer disappeared and instead there was...nothing at all.
Ludwig's eyes widened when he himself realized what the Boggart had read off of him and he held Gilbert even closer to him. Blue eyes darted down to Gilbert in his arms and he took a deep, long breath.
He would definitely need to come over to Kurstin's place to have a chat about… 'things'.
A/N: So for those who do not know, the Stasi was the East German Secret Police - kind of like the SS and the KGB of the GDR. Their main duties were spying on the GDR population fighting any opposition against the GDR, and partaking in the psychological and physical destruction of any dissenters. It was considered one of the most effective intelligence agencies during the Cold War.
On a brighter note, this chapter was originally going to be a bit different; I was intending for the Quidditch match to last several days, with Johann serving as a sub while the other members slept, however narrating a Quidditch match is so difficult, so I ended it short. I hope you still enjoy!
Ludwig is slowly realizing things about himself...after everybody else has already realized it, it seems. The next chapter will be his lovely chat with Kurstin and then...some 'things' ;