Hi everyone. I am a person from another country and I am translating my fanfic into English as part of my English language learning. I hope you will enjoy the story.
The Seeker
I. The would-be transfer
July 2, 1996.
Wladyslaw Zamojski teleported to the Hogwarts grounds. He was able to do so by special permission of Albus Dumbledore. The former chaser felt more nervous than before the most important matches. He knew very well how much his son cared about going to this institution. Therefore, he had to do everything in his power to get Dumbledore to agree. When he landed on the Commons, he looked at the castle.
Oh, my gosh, it's impressive, thought Wladyslaw as he looked at the huge building, which consisted of six tall towers and lots of towers and turrets. Moreover, there was a lot of greenery around the castle, including a big forest and a large lake. Slightly stunned by the enormity of the school, Wladislaw began to wonder:
They have so much space that one more kid should fit, shouldn't they?
Walking across the stone bridge, Wladyslaw saw several dozen lit candles. A few seconds later he spotted Albus Dumbledore standing at the entrance to the castle. After about two minutes (Who invented such an idiotically long bridge to the school? - thought Wladislaw) the gentlemen shook hands. At that moment, Wladyslaw saw that the wizard's other hand looked dead.
What the hell! thought Wladyslaw, shocked
"Welcome to Hogwarts," replied Albus Dumbledore
"The pleasure is all mine," said Wladyslaw as he tried to look away from the headmaster's hand.
"Please call me by my first name. Calling you sir makes me feel older than I am," replied Dumbledore.
Surprised by Dumbledore's directness, Wladyslaw was silent for a moment and then replied:
"I often get that impression too."
On their way to the study, Wladyslaw stared at the many moving staircases and observed the many paintings, mostly of wizards at play, but he also spotted a portrait of a goblin with glasses and a roaring tiger.
When they reached the headmaster's office located on the second floor, Wladyslaw was once again quite surprised. Apart from the size of the room (does everything have to be so huge in this castle?), he was also surprised by the desk with claw-like legs and the many portraits of former Hogwarts Headmasters.
"Please make yourself comfortable," Dumbledore replied, pointing to a leather armchair across from his desk. ''Would you like some tea or coffee?," asked the Headmaster.
Wladyslaw was feeling terribly sleepy:
Maybe a little coffee will wake me up a bit, he thought, so he said:
" I'll have a coffee with a spoonful of sugar."
In less than a second, hot and sweetened coffee appeared in front of Wladyslaw.
"That's what we call fast service!," he said, smiling at Dumbledore
Dumbledore returned the smile and then replied:
"A few days ago, you wrote me a letter requesting that your son be educated at Hogwarts."
Wladyslaw nodded, wondering how he could convince the aged wizard that Damian was worth accepting.
At that moment, Dumbledore scratched his chin in parallel speaking:
"Our school has always been open to students from every corner of the world. That's why I don't see any objections," declared Dumbledore.
Surprised Wladyslaw, said in his mind:
That went easily! I'll have to ask him about a few details:
"From what I've read, there are four houses at Hogwarts to which students are assigned while Damian is already sixteen, I wouldn't want him to walk with the freshmen in front of the whole school. It's quite embarrassing."
Dumbledore scratched his chin again, then said:
"In that case, have him come to my office fifteen minutes before the assignment ceremony. Afterwards, he will sit among the students from the house to which he will be selected".
Wladyslaw nodded, the proposed solution suited the situation much better. Then, he asked:
"I just want to ask when we will receive the list of all textbooks and supplies."
"I think that at the beginning of August you will receive an owl on this matter."
At that moment, Władyslaw couldn't think of anything he wanted to know from the principal, so he answered:
"I have no more questions, thank you very much for accepting Damian and for your time."
"But I have one. What happened, after the 1983 European Championship final, that you didn't move on to United from Puddlemere?," asked Dumbledore, who never believed the official version of events.
Vienna, May 29, 1983.
We've lost...the final of the European Championships, Wladyslaw thought to himself in despair. Nothing went according to plan for the Goblins from Grodzisk. First, literally a few minutes before the start of the game, there was the biggest downpour he'd ever seen. It was a real hell, hail as big as hen's eggs, falling on players' heads. The referee, fearing for the health and lives of the participants evacuated both teams to the locker room. They sat there, completely soaked and distracted, for over an hour. Then they were led onto the pitch, and there they found...
"Stupid fog!" roared Wladyslaw, enraged, and his depressed teammates turned in his direction.
Nothing could be seen. Wladyslaw couldn't see the goal hoops, either from one side or the other, or the stands surrounding them. All he could see was the overwhelming whiteness. If a knife was taken out to cut it, it would be stuck there like Excalibur in a rock. An exasperated Coach Godlewski, a tall blond man possessing an unusually expansive chest, countered:
"Gentlemen, get off the turf. I will talk to the president to negotiate a postponement of the match. This is a joke."
So they went down to the locker room, where they waited for another hour. After that time the door opened and the president of the Goblins from Grodzisk, Andrzej Rybak, came in and said:
"Gentlemen, we are screwed."
" What do you mean? What happened?" the anxious players replied.
Rybak sighed and then said:
"I spoke with the president of the European federation and the presidents of Puddlemere United. I stated that such conditions are completely unacceptable and the only option is to postpone the match until tomorrow. The president stated that there are one hundred and fifty radio stations from all over the world and postponing the match would generate gigantic logistical problems."
"What a... ", answered Godlewski.
"That's nothing," Rybak interrupted him before Godlewski got to the invective. " The English want to play as well."
"What the hell is wrong with them?" shouted all the players.
"How can they imagine that? You can't see anything," said Wladyslaw and the others nodded.
" Night vision, those bastards have night vision, so you can see in the fog." said the chairman.
"This is bullshit! And what happens if we don't play? Do they award a walkover to the English for not having night vision equipment? Nowhere in the regulations is it written that night vision equipment has to be prepared for the game. Brooms, robes, medical equipment, sure, but night vision equipment?" Godlewski said, red in the face.
"The referee doesn't have them either, does he?" asked Wladyslaw.
"Well, gentlemen, that's where it's at. The English promised to lend everyone night-vision equipment." answered Godlewski.
"A hundred thousand spectators who can't see their own hands too?" said Godlewski.
"You speak as if you were born yesterday. For the federation, the fans don't matter at all. Did they pay for the match? They paid, but will they see it? Who cares?" said Rybak.
"So what? We borrow equipment we've never used and play? Sounds like a good plan to me," said Martin Rugol, the Goblins' captain, who had remained silent until that moment.
"Better than defeat by a walkover for not entering the competition despite such a possibility," said Rybak.
"How much time do we have to make a decision?" asked Rugol.
"To be precise," said the chairman looking at his watch, "we are one minute behind the time."
"Wonderful, simply wonderful", Godlewski summed up the situation.
The only good thing about this match was that it lasted only an hour and a half. The English, what was predictable, were definitely better at playing with night vision. The Poles had most problems with making decisions quickly. The view they had thanks to the technology differed too much from the one registered by the eyes. In combination with the great speed on the brooms and the perfect timing needed to execute combinations in attack, it brought about lamentable results. Goblins scored most of their goals after individual actions of Wladyslaw. On the other hand, the United's beaters were excellent, able to take advantage of the Polish chasers' disorientation. In the end, Andrew Scott, an extremely talented Hogwarts graduate, significantly outplayed Tomasz Telenga and ended the match with a score of 360:110. With his grab, he ensured Puddlemere United their second European Championship in the club's history.
Half an hour after the match the Goblins players were still sitting in silence. They found the events of the entire evening so depressing and absurd that they could not comprehend what had really happened. At that moment, Chairman Rybak entered the locker room. Most of the players didn't even hear the sound of the door opening. Rybak looked at everyone; they looked as if a dozen dementors had flown into the locker room. He then slammed his fist on the door, several players immediately raised their heads. Then he grunted, looked at Wladyslaw and said:
"The English have made a transfer offer for you."
Coach Godlewski stood up and then shouted:
"Can't you see what happened today?! How depressed we are?! For God's sake, let us live!"
Rybak looked at the coach and then said:
"Well, the life of our club is at stake here. The United are offering one hundred thousand galleons."
Godlewski was stunned, and after a few seconds he muttered:
"You must have misunderstood them, they probably mean ten thousand."
The chairman looked at him with a menacing face and said in an irritated tone:
"I know English better than you know Polish. I can tell the difference between one thousand and one hundred thousand. They were talking about the second number. They offered a hundred grand for Wladek."
After this exchange of words all eyes in the room turned to the shocked Wladyslaw, who thought:
"United want to buy me for a hundred thousand galleons? That would be the highest transfer in quidditch history!"
"Well, boy, you've got the chance of a lifetime!" said Rugol, patting Wladyslaw on the back
Wladislaw had no idea what to think of all this. He loved playing for the Goblins, who he had cheered for since he was a kid. As a young boy he wanted to win the European Championship with them. He didn't make it that night, but he had a dozen years of career ahead of him. He was sure that in three years' time (the European Quidditch Championship is played every three seasons) they would lift the most precious European cup.
"I don't have my mind on it right now. I'll wash up, go home, get some sleep and then I'll think about it," Wladyslaw answered, heading for the shower.
"I'll tell the English that we need a week to think about it," Rybak said as he left the locker room.
Grodzisk, May 30, 1983.
That day Wladyslaw slept until 4 p.m. When he opened his eyes he still felt very tired. Probably his body had not managed to regenerate after the great physical and mental effort. With difficulty he got out of bed, only after a few seconds he noticed his wife standing in the doorway:
"Hello, my love," said Wladyslaw.
Marta Zamojska looked furious and Wladislaw had no idea why:
"Don't you guys have any imagination? Why play in the fog with night vision when you could have driven it away with a wind spell?" she said with a frown on her face.
It took him a moment to realize what his wife had said. He analyzed them for a few seconds and then said:
"Marta, this fog was powerful. Even a few dozen of the best trained wizards could not have deal with it."
"A few dozen wouldn't, but a hundred thousand would, right? If the match organizers had asked the fans to repeat the spell validus ventus (strong wind) it would have taken you about ten seconds to dispel it," she replied, putting her hands on her hips.
At that moment Wladyslaw hid his face in his hands, he was too broken to cry.
Two hours later Wladyslaw came to Marta sitting on the armchair and said:
"I have to tell you something."
Marta was nervous, she thought:
"Such an introduction does not bode well. Did some woman tempt him and did he cheat on me with her?"
"What is it?" she asked with a slight tremor in her voice.
"Puddlemere United have made a transfer offer for me. They offered the Goblins a hundred thousand galleons."
Shocked, Marta let out a silent cry.
"A hundred thousand galleons! This is unimaginable money!" she thought, trying to imagine a huge mountain of gold coins.
Wladyslaw grabbed her hand, saying:
"I have no idea what to do. On the one hand I love playing in Goblins, but if they offer such money for me they'll probably give me a cosmic contract. However, I don't want to leave you and Damian alone."
Marta smiled at him, squeezed his hand, and then said:
"Don't think about me or this big money, just think about what will make you happy. Your happiness will also be mine."
By the end of the day Wladyslaw was wondering what decision he should make. All the time two personalities were arguing with each other. The first one, the romantic one, told Wladyslaw:
"I'm playing in the club of my dreams, to whose matches my grandfather used to take me. I promised that I would win the European Championship, and he would raise it."
While the other, much more practical, claimed:
"I am now at the peak of my career. I've already won several championships in Poland, while the British-Irish quidditch league is the best league in the world. What's more, I also have to think about the future of our family."
At that moment, Wladyslaw looked at the glass bar in the hallway. There was the vodka given by his teammates for his twenty-fourth birthday.
"Maybe thanks to it I'll choose a better path?"
Grodzisk, June 1, 1983.
Unfortunately, instead of the expected solution, alcohol brought an additional headache. Wladyslaw woke up with a gigantic hangover, making it impossible to function normally.
What kind of junk did they buy me? he thought as he tried to get out of bed. He spent the next ten minutes looking for a robe to wear. Only after a while did he remember that he was wearing it.
He struggled to get down the stairs and wandered toward the kitchen where Marta was making scrambled eggs.
- I think you're really worrying too much about this transfer. You drank the whole bottle yesterday - she said with concern, handing him a plate with food.
He was not in the mood to eat at all. He did not feel like eating at all, but out of respect for his wife he forced his body to accept food.
Less than an hour later, he heard a knock at the door.
Who could it be? he thought as he approached the door. When he opened it he saw an elderly wizard with a gray mustache, wearing a green bowler hat and carrying a large leather briefcase in his hands. He looked like a typical salesman.
"Good morning, Mr Zamojsky," said the magician in English.
The surprised Władyslaw, who had last used English in Durmstrang, hesitated for a moment and then announced:
"Good morning, with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"
The senior mage, replied:
"My name is Gary Moore and I am the sports director of Puddlemere United."
"Did he really have to come today?" thought Wladyslaw, who felt awful .
"Come inside," muttered Wladysław.
Marta came out of the kitchen. The Englishman walked toward her, shook her hand and said:
"Gary Moore, sports director of the Puddlemere United. Pleased to meet you."
"And a pleasure to meet you too," Marta replied.
As the three of them sat down in the living room, Moore looked at Wladyslaw and then said:
"We've made the Goblins an offer of one hundred thousand galleons for your player card. We want you to become the most expensive and highest paid player in the history of quidditch."
Am I to earn more than top-seeker Joa Barbossa, to whom the Tarapoto Razorbacks are offering eighteen thousand galleons a year? thought an astonished Wladyslaw.
"Excuse me, but what kind of money are we talking about?" asked Marta.
"We're offering a five-year contract of a thousand galleons a week and fifty percent of the profit from the image rights."
The Zamojski couple almost fell off the sofa.
That kind of money for playing quidditch?! It's obscene! thought Wladyslaw, shocked.
I must be dreaming! said Marta in her head, pinching herself on her left hand.
"That's seventeen times the average salary of the British-Irish Quidditch League and forty times that of an average English wizard. In addition, you would have the opportunity to play in the best league in the world and appear at the World Club Championships. We want for the first time ever to bring the cup of the best team in the world to Puddlemere." Moore continued. He looked expectantly at Wladyslaw and Marta as he finished his speech.
Marta, who was the first to manage to return to normalcy, replied:
"This is an extremely generous offer. We will certainly think about it in detail. Please give us until the end of the week."
"Of course," said Moore, then he shook hands with both of them, went out into the yard, and deported himself.
Marta said to Wladyslaw:
"There is no rational reason to refuse this proposal."
Wladyslaw looked in her direction.
"So I should go to the Puddlemere after all?" thought the chaser.
"But I know very well that your value system has nothing to do with rationality. That is one of the reasons why I love you so much." Marta said, kissing him on the cheek.
Grodzisk, June 2, 1983.
Lying on his hammock, Wladyslaw thought:
The United are offering one hundred thousand galleons for me. Chairman Rybak often mentioned that he wanted to expand the training base and renovate the stadium. What's more, with the money from the transfer the club can significantly increase the salaries for the boys. There would also be enough money to buy two or three good players. If they invest properly, my leaving will be an impulse for their development. Władyslaw recalled his childhood trainings, during which he flew in worn-out Shooting Stars. His dad didn't want to buy him a broom and the club had only this model in stock.
"I'll leave, but under certain conditions," thought Wladyslaw, teleporting to the club's headquarters.
At the same moment, chairman Rybak was receiving the morning mail. Among other things, a copy of the newspaper Voice of Grodzisk arrived. On page thirteen there was the following article:
The Goblins' Misty Dreams!
The unfortunate defeat of the Grodzisk Goblins in the final of the European Championships against Puddlemore United is still being echoed. According to many, the main reason for the 110:360 loss was playing in night vision in thick fog.
"It is obvious that the English had a significant advantage thanks to that. They used this technology on a daily basis, while our players were exposed to it for the first time. I am shocked that the European federation agreed to a solution distorting any competition," said Józef Wroński, a legendary Goblins seeker from Grodzisk, a Polish representative at the World Cups in 1926, 1930, 1934 and 1938, during which he played 11 matches.
Similar opinions could be heard around the world. Some people are even calling for the match to be replayed. Unfortunately, the probability of such an outcome is practically zero. Despite the sad end, the Goblins from Grodzisk achieved a historic success, which with a bit of luck and keeping the biggest stars in the team, has a chance to be repeated.
How to keep the stars when they offer such money? Rybak thought, putting down the newspaper.
Suddenly he heard a loud crack and Zamojski stood in front of him. Chairman Rybak smiled and then said:
"I was just thinking about you! Have you already made up your mind?"
Wladyslaw replied:
"I have made up my mind, but you have to do a few things."
The fisherman felt nervous, he hated being ordered around. But after a while he got himself under control and said:
"What do you mean?"
"I will leave when two conditions have been met. First, the young ones must be given new brooms. Flying on Shooting Stars is a relic, they should get Cleansweep Sevens."
There are nearly a hundred kids training in all age categories. Buying a hundred Cleansweep Sevens is a big expense, thought the chairman.
"And what is the second condition?" answered the chairman, feeling that it could become a bone of contention.
Wladyslaw looked the chairman in the eye and said:
"You will raise the salary budget from seven thousand crowns a week to fourteen thousand."
"No way! That would destroy our payroll budget!" shouted chairman Rybak.
"No, it wouldn't, but remember that a hundred thousand galleons don't mean a thing. It would be silly to lose them for such a trivial reason," said Wladyslaw, smiling, and teleported away.
Chairman Rybak banged his fist on the table with all his strength. Then he thought:
Zamojski, by Merlin! He is always up to something!
For the next few hours Rybak thought about what he should do. On the one hand, one hundred thousand galleons was a real gift from heaven. On the other hand, Zamojski's condition of doubled wages made him nauseous. Throughout the years, the Goblins had been famous for their sound money management. Such an abrupt change in policy made Osprey inwardly uneasy. But on the other hand, quidditch, especially in England, is starting to generate more and more money. Clubs are steadily raising ticket prices, and players are getting fortunes from image rights.
If we stick to the current salaries, in a few years all the best may want to play abroad. You only die once, Rybak thought, teleporting to the Zamojski house.
Sitting on the garden swing, Wladyslaw heard a crash next to him. After a moment he saw Rybak with his back turned to him.
"It's been a long time, sir," said Wladyslaw.
The surprised fisherman shuddered slightly, turned towards his pursuer and said:
"I have reconsidered your offer. One hundred Cleansweep Sevens for the youth and double the salary of the first team players in exchange for your transfer. I agree."
At this point Wladyslaw smiled, saying:
- It's a deal.
Then chairman Rybak, replied:
"I will send the Englishmen an owl confirming their acceptance of the offer."
June 3, 1983, 4:00 p.m., the conference room of Goblins from Grodzisk.
The journalists gathered in the room could not get out of their daze when they heard about today's completely unexpected press conference. Everyone was wondering what it could be about.
"I think that coach Godlewski will leave. Everybody knows how he experienced this defeat," said Karol Darniewicz from Polish Sports.
"I predict a decent transfer. Usually after losing finals clubs announce some kind of bomb to make fans feel better," said Patryk Kania, working for Wizards News.
"Tadek, do you know what's going on here? You always have the best contacts" asked Tadeusz Klimowski, Mateusz Tomczyk from Voice of Grodzisk.
The bald, red-bearded wizard, who was Mateusz's editorial colleague, answered:
"I have no idea."
Andrzej Rybak, the president of Goblins, entered the room. Several dozen journalists were carefully watching the tall man, dressed in an elegant black robe. When he sat down, he declared:
"I have invited you today because I wish to inform you of an unprecedented event in the history of both Polish and world Quidditch." Then he took a longer pause.
The journalists sat as if on pins. Their Quick-Qoutes Quills trembled with uncertainty.
"It is with pleasure, but also with some regret, that I announce the acceptance of the Puddlemere United offer of one hundred thousand galleons for our player, Wladyslaw Zamojski." declared Rybak.
"How many thousands?!" roared at least half the room.
"That would be twice as much as…" said a shocked Tadeusz Klimowski.
"Twice as much as the Tarapoto Razorbacks paid for Jao Barbossa." Rybak finished for him.
He showed the reporters the transfer agreement between United and the Goblins. It was sent by the English via express owl.
The glare of the flashbulbs lit up the entire room. Every journalist wanted to photograph the historic document at any cost. When all those present calmed down a bit, chairman Rybak answered:
"More questions will be answered by our today's star, Wladyslaw Zamojski."
Wladyslaw, shocked by such an enormous interest, barely managed to sit down at the table. He nervously tried to find a comfortable position for a few seconds and then declared:
"Shoot"
He shot up a forest of hands. Ms. Adrianna Porębska, who is the spokesperson for the Goblins, replied:
"Perhaps you should start in the yellow jacket."
"Thank you very much. What is the main reason for you leaving the Goblins?" asked Darniewicz.
Wladyslaw had already prepared an answer for this kind of question, so he said without stammering:
"Because I want to become the first Pole to play in the British-Irish Quidditch League. Everyone talks about it in superlatives. I'm sure it will be an extremely interesting challenge for me."
The next questioner was a tall blond man wearing fidgety triangular glasses:
"How big a role did money play in this transfer?"
You guys are awfully predictable, thought Wladyslaw and declared.
"Money is important, but the sporting aspect is always the most important to me."
Another person was a short blonde, her question was:
"What do you have to say to the Goblin fans?"
For a brief moment Wladyslaw didn't know how to answer. Various feelings swirled within him that he couldn't express. He sighed deeply, declaring:
"I want to tell you that thanks to them I experienced a lot of unforgettable moments. They supported me all the time and I will never forget that. - At this point he paused, smiled and said":
"But I believe I will come back here again. That is why I am not saying goodbye, but see you later."
The commotion in the room increased even more, if that was even possible. Observing the journalists' reaction, Rybak thought:
"Oh boy! You know how to make a show. I will miss you."
June 3, 1983, 7 p.m., Puddlemere, Puddlemere United headquarters.
George O'Hara was furious. He, a team captain who had played over five hundred games for the United during a fifteen year career, finds out about such a move by the club through radio stations?! He was against throwing money down the drain.
One hundred thousand galleons for a chaser?! Did they fall off the hippogriff or what?!
He was going to stop this madness. He ran into the board room, glared menacingly at everyone gathered and roared:
"I do not agree to this transfer!"
Garry Moore countered:
"Please understand us. Zamojsky is an extremely talented—"
George wasn't going to listen to anyone. This operation was a contradiction of the whole policy of the club. United had always bought young players at affordable prices and then made them into stars.
"What has happened to you guys! We are European Champions, for chrissakes! Our strategy so far has allowed us to become the best club on the continent! And now you're doing," he was at a loss for words to describe what he thought the club's authorities were doing "great, unimaginable stupidity" he finished, although he had stronger words in mind.
After a moment of silence, George asked:
"What salary have you offered him?"
The chairman of the club, Andrew Maddison, said:
"This is our business!"
"Your business?! Your business?! I've been playing here longer than you all have been in charge! You've given him so much money you're even ashamed to admit it to me? Let me guess, five hundred galleons a week?!" he shouted, then asked, looking at everyone reproachfully.
O'Hara, being the England representative, earned 250 galleons a week.
"A thousand galleons a week," said Moore.
George thought he had overheard, so he announced:
"Can you repeat that?"
"We offered him a salary of one thousand galleons a week" said Moore.
The United Captain shook his head in disbelief, then declared:
"You have twenty-four hours to call off this madness. Otherwise I will make an official transfer request. Either him or me, your choice."
As O'Hara slammed the door, an upset Moore declared:
"I told Rybak not to talk to the press about this transfer!"
"We made a mistake, we didn't anticipate the reaction of our players" replied Maddison.
"In that case, what do we do?" Said Vice President Grace Stephens.
"George is a legend of our club. If he leaves, the fans will throw us out. We have to cancel the transfer." replied Maddison.
A saddened Gary Moore replied:
"I'm teleporting home Zamojsky."
At the same time, tired but extremely pleased with himself, Wladyslaw was packing things into his trunk. He intended to sign a contract with the United and then stay in Puddlemere for a few days to explore the town.
Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door:
It must be Moore, who wants to take me to Puddlemere, thought Wladyslaw, grabbing the door handle.
Then he looked at Moore's face and already knew that something bad had happened. The Englishman looked as if he had aged five years in just a few days. The United sporting director entered the house with his head bowed, turned his gaze to Wladyslaw and then declared:
"Transfer cancelled. The captain of our team threatened to leave the team if we made this transaction."
Wladyslaw felt sweat trickle down his forehead and neck.
What am I supposed to do now? I've just come back from the conference, during which my transfer to United was announced! he thought to himself in horror
Gary Moore, seeing the shocked look on his face, replied:
"Why don't you tell them you changed your mind at the last minute? That should sell well."
" Yeah, maybe that's a solution," said a depressed Wladyslaw.
"I still have to talk to the chairman. Take care - said Moore to Wladyslaw and then he fetched himself."
"Marta," he turned to his equally shocked wife, " make me some strong tea."
June 4, 12:00, the conference room of the Goblins of Grodzisk.
Journalists who received information about the conference were even more astonished than the day before. The topic of Zamojski's transfer to United was a real bomb that electrified the whole country.
Had the Goblins already found his replacement? thought the shocked journalists.
This time Andrzej Rybak was wearing a turquoise robe, but more importantly he did not look happy at all. When he sat down, he looked at the journalists, announcing:
"I announce to you that the transfer of Wladyslaw Zamojski to Puddlemere United has been cancelled."
"What do you mean, cancelled? What is going on here?!" shouted half of the hall, just like the day before.
"All the details will be explained by the person concerned," said Rybak.
Wladyslaw was even more upset than before. What a messed up situation, he thought, observing the excited crowd.
After a while he sat down, announcing:
" I was at the Puddlemere United club museum last night. I looked at all their cups. When I got to this year's European Cup, I realised what I had lost. I thought then that no matter how many trophies I won there, none of them would taste as good as those won here. In the place where I was born and raised."