Never Give Up, a harry potter fanfic

A/N: Inspired by so many cricketers.

Quick information dump:

A cricket team has 11 players, which consists of batsmen and bowlers. An all-rounder is a player who can bat and bowl.

One team, which is batting, tries to score runs, while the other team is fielding and tries to prevent this.

A strike rate is the average number of runs scored per 100 balls faced. The higher the strike rate, the more efficient he is.

Runs are scored by hitting the ball, which is thrown by a player from the fielding team to a player from the batting team, across the boundary, or by the batting team's players running between two areas of the field (called the batsmen's grounds) as many times as possible before the fielding team successfully hits a wicket (set of sticks) in either of the grounds with the ball to get them out.

A yorker delivery is when the ball hits the cricket pitch near the batsman's feet.

Runs are scored in 1s, 2s, sometimes 3s, 4s and 6s. The 1s are called singles, 2s are called doubles.

A 4 is scored when the ball goes over the boundary after it either runs or bounces out.

A 6 is scored when the ball leaves the field without bouncing.

A duck is when a batsman is dismissed with a score of 0.

When a player is out, a teammate will replace them in the field.

When a team no longer has enough "not-out" players left to score, then the other team gets the chance to try to score.

After both teams have had enough chances to score, the team with the most runs wins.

Sledging is when a player tries to gain advantage of the opposing player by insulting or verbally intimidating him.

AU! Muggle.

Written for Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

House: Thunderbird

Class: Career Planning

Task: 1. Athlete: sports school AU

Bonus Prompts:

13. (quote) If you really look closely, most overnight successes took a long time.

14. (dialogue) The secret of success is to do the common thing uncommonly well.

Word Count: 2999/4500

Never Give Up

He had trained so hard to join the academy, and Marcus wondered if he had made a big mistake. If he couldn't even hit the ball once, what was the point of staying at the academy? His family would be so disappointed in him. He imagined what his mother would say to him if she were alive, but he just couldn't bear to think of her crestfallen expression.

Marcus Flint wiped his brow as he walked towards the bench. The sun beat down upon the nape of his neck, causing sweat to trickle down his back, which made him grimace with disgust. It wasn't very hot in the Hogwarts Center of Excellence grounds, but as Marcus had been practising his batting in the nets for the past two hours, the ground seemed to sway under his feet.

"All right, lads! Gather around!" Thorfinn Rowle called out to the men training in the nets. He waved them over to where he stood near the long benches, and the trainees all rushed over to listen to him.

The international English cricketers had been invited by the Hogwarts cricket administrator, Albus Dumbledore, to impart their knowledge to the young cricketers, who had been identified as having the potential to represent the English cricket team in the future.

Thorfinn Rowle, the wicket-keeper batsman, was one of them. He was a tall, muscular man in his late twenties, with a thick beard and blond locks. Known for his humour, he was a fan favourite, and the gathered students knew he would make their training session more fun.

"Wicket-keepers, to me! If you're a pacer, head over to Georgie over there, and if you're a spinner, Vettori's your man! And batsmen, head over to Wood — he'll teach you how to handle the wood," Thorfinn said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The students snickered at the innuendo and quickly divided into three groups. Marcus panted as he walked over to Oliver Wood's side of the ground, tugging his batting gloves on again. He knew of Oliver Wood — who didn't? The man was a complete beast when it came to batting for his team! — and he wondered what tricks the older man could teach him about the art of batting.

As he passed by, he overheard Rowle reminding his students that the crouching position was absolutely necessary for a wicket-keeper to see the pitch of the ball. When Wood began to speak, Marcus turned his head away and focused on the tall batsman.

"I'd like to ask you all one simple question. What's your main problem when you're out there batting?" Oliver's voice was surprisingly deep, which Marcus hadn't been expecting at all.

The students gave different answers, and Oliver nodded as he listened patiently. When it was Marcus' turn, he hesitated for a second before he answered, "Low strike rate, sir."

"Oh, there's no need to call me 'sir'," Oliver said with a laugh. "It's just Oliver or Wood — if that's more your thing."

Marcus' face reddened at his words, and he thought, 'Please let him think it's too hot out here. Please, God, please!'

Oliver grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief, but took mercy on him. He turned to the students and said, "Okay, let's start with the low strike rate problem as that's what most of you suffer from. If you've ever felt it difficult to score in a t20 game — I know I have a number of times… whether it's about a bowler bowling a good spell, the wicket doing a little bit of swinging, nipping around, or if I'm struggling to time the ball — it happens to nearly every batter."

"Really? You?" someone asked, and Marcus had to agree. Oliver Wood was phenomenal on the field, and Marcus just couldn't imagine him having trouble with batting.

"Yeah, when I was younger, to get out of this situation, I just tried to hit the ball further and further. For me, it might have worked every… third or fourth game, but until I actually understood the game and developed a couple of skills and listened to my coach, it wasn't until then that I really capitalized on those good balls. I wanted to whack the ball out of the park, but sometimes it just made things difficult. It wasn't until then that my coach taught me something. See, the secret to success is to do the common thing uncommonly well. He told me there were other avenues to score quickly — not just by bashing it over the fence — and I remember he told me these three key points, and today, let me share these with you."

Marcus' ears pricked up at his words, and he leaned forward to watch Oliver carefully. Oliver started to demonstrate how they could move around their crease to get out of their comfort zone and hit the ball through the gaps in the field. After that, he advised them to always communicate with their partner when they were running between the wickets. Marcus knew how many matches had been lost just because the batsmen weren't able to communicate with each other. In the end, Oliver taught them power hitting and how to keep their heads steady to hit the ball straight. His main advice was to keep the scoreboard ticking — whether it was with a single or doubles, or even with a boundary.

When he was done, Oliver suggested for them to practise their drills in the nets, and he began to make his way around to check on the students and give them specific advice on how to improve their batting technique.

Marcus stood at the crease, squinting at the bowler who stood on the other end of the pitch. There were three pairs of cones placed in his net, and his goal was to hit the ball at them. His front shoulder faced down the wicket, his head was turned towards the bowler, and he slightly crouched to be more effective. "I'm ready, Lynn. Hit me."

When the ball flew toward him, Marcus stepped back in his crease and tried to hit the ball through the pair of cones to his left, but the ball barely touched his bat. He let out a loud sigh and gestured at the bowler to bowl again.

Again and again, he tried to succeed, but something seemed to be off about his technique. He just couldn't understand it, and he dropped his bat to the ground and began to pace angrily.

Just then, Oliver walked up to him. "What seems to be the problem here?"

Marcus scowled at his bat and grumbled, "I just… I can't do it. I'll never be as good as you."

"Who said you have to be as good as me? You can be as good as you," Oliver said, walking closer to him. "What's your name?"

"Marcus Flint."

"Well, Marcus, why do you want to be like me?"

"Well, you're so good with the bat! I've never seen you have any problems with the bat ever since you started playing internationally! I just want to be as good as you — I want to become an overnight sensation like you! If I can't even strike the ball for a single, then what am I even doing here? Maybe I should just quit..." Marcus' shoulders slumped as he began to pull off his thigh pads.

Oliver was quiet for a few moments as he gazed at Marcus speculatively. Finally, he said, "Why don't you put on your pads and come with me? I think you need to see something."

He led Marcus down the ground, ignoring the other students and their coaches. He glanced at Marcus and teased, "Don't be so tense, Marcus, I won't bite — unless you ask me to."

Marcus blushed at his words and walked faster, embarrassed at being so awkward around the older man. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Oliver's eyes twinkled with merriment as he continued to lead Marcus through the field.

Finally, Oliver stopped, and Marcus' eyes widened when he saw Charlie Weasley — the captain of the cricket team — conversing with a reporter. The man had captained the international cricket team for the past five years and had led them to victory many, many times, and Marcus was amazed to be in his immediate vicinity.

Marcus glanced at Oliver, questions visible in his eyes, and the latter smiled. "We're here to listen to him, Marcus." So, Marcus did just that.

The reporter said, "If you win the next game, you're going to get a home final, so there's an enormous amount of pressure on you as the leader and your eleven men."

"Yeah, not so much pressure, it's just an opportunity for us that we want to take advantage of. Obviously, the home fans would love to see that," Charlie said, his hands firmly placed on his waist in a powerful stance. "So, if we could play a role in bringing a final here, it would be great — but that's an outcome we can't control. So, we'll just have to play well in the next game. These guys are top of the log for a reason, but we're looking forward to it."

Marcus glanced at Oliver with confusion. What does he want me to listen to? Sensing his bewilderment, Oliver motioned for him to wait.

"We've noticed your entire team is out here to coach the students of Hogwarts Academy, but your youngest player, Harry Potter, isn't here. Why's that?" the interviewer asked, raising his microphone towards Charlie.

Charlie chuckled and answered, "Yeah, Potter's lying in bed with my sister Ginny. They got married yesterday, so…"

Marcus slapped his hands over his mouth to muffle his laughter, but Oliver didn't even have the decency to do that. He guffawed heartily at Charlie's explanation and wiped the tears from his eyes. He looked at Marcus and said, "It was a beautiful wedding, you know. They had these little chocolate balls that, personally, I thought seemed weird, but to each, his own, I guess."

Marcus grinned and turned back to listen to Charlie's interview. The redheaded captain continued to talk about their decisions in the previous matches, and finally, the interview came to an end.

Once the reporter had left to talk to someone else, Charlie turned and grinned at Oliver. "And there's my main man! Ollie, mate, what are you up to — and who's this handsome young man?"

Oliver coughed loudly and shared a pointed look with Charlie, who smirked and nodded. Marcus knew the two cricketers were great friends on and off the pitch, but watching them interact with each other was awe-inspiring. Never having had any close friends, Marcus wished he was close to someone like that.

"This is Marcus, Charlie, and I want you to tell him what you always tell us," Oliver said, placing his hand on Marcus' shoulder and pushing him closer.

"What? Oh, that! Do you know what a batsman's least favourite bird is? A duck!" Charlie looked so pleased with his joke that Marcus couldn't help but chuckle at it.

Oliver rolled his eyes and cried, "No, not that, Char! What do you always tell us about overnight successes?"

"That they're not really overnight successes? Oh, yeah, that." Charlie looked at Marcus and nodded. "Yeah, kid, if you look closely, those 'overnight' successes took a long time. They practised and worked real hard on their game to reach that position. For example, look at me. Ollie here knows how hard I've worked to get my team to the top, don't you, Ollie?" In a singsong voice, he said, "Remember, I decide your place in the team."

Oliver laughed and punched Charlie's shoulder. "No, you don't! The management decides that — and I'm your vice-captain, you arse! But… yes, Marcus, he's right. You can't suddenly become the best at what you do. These things take time."

"But I didn't even manage to score runs the way you taught us!"

Charlie's expression grew serious at Marcus' words. He asked, "Were you trying to copy Oliver?" At Marcus' nod, Charlie said, "That there is the problem. Don't copy him, kid. Find your own technique and use it well."

"But I want to increase my strike rate," Marcus protested, "and that's not going to happen if I keep playing like I usually do."

Charlie thought for a few moments before he said, "Show me your stance."

Marcus immediately got into his batting stance, his bat ready in hand, and Charlie hummed as he walked around him. He said, "You're a strong man… Try placing your feet about shoulder-width apart, if it feels comfortable, that is. Just be comfortable and confident in your stance. You can tweak it in the middle of the game, too — there's no harm in that. Bend your knees a bit. Yeah, just like that."

"You ready?" Oliver asked, motioning for a student to hand him a ball.

"Hold it, Ollie." Charlie turned to Marcus and said, "Do you prefer hard-hitting or slowing it down?"

"Well, I prefer to hit the ball hard, but I want to increase my strike rate," Marcus admitted.

Charlie nodded. "You play as a lower-order batsman, don't you?"

"Yeah… How did you…" Marcus was stunned by his astuteness.

"Kid, I captain a team — I know everything," Charlie boasted. "There's a lot of pressure on you to finish the game, isn't there? So, you just need to make sure you stay there till the end. My advice to you would be to get the bat to the ball and get as many sixes as you can. Because sixes make a difference. If you hit a four, you are two runs short. So you get closer to the runs with more sixes you hit."

"But Oliver said…" Marcus trailed off when Charlie shook his head.

"Wood's a great batsman, kid, but he likes to pace himself. And he's tiny compared to us. You and I — we're both similar in structure, so it's better for us to hit as many sixes as we can. Our size gives us an advantage over others like Ollie. The base, core, shoulders… Going through the ball, that's very important. Don't avoid the single, though, as it's just as important."

Marcus understood what Charlie meant and turned towards Oliver, ready as he could ever be. "Hit me with your best shot."

Oliver smirked, pulled his arm back and swung the ball down the pitch, and Marcus held himself in place. When the ball bounced towards him — Marcus immediately knew it was a yorker delivery — he opened the face of his bat, pulled it back and slammed it against the ball.

The ball soared over Oliver's head, and he ducked so that it wouldn't injure him. Charlie laughed at Oliver's reaction and teasingly called out, "Is this why you're always healthy and full of sickness? Because you can't catch anything?"

Oliver flipped him off as he picked up another ball, and Marcus grinned, exhilarated at his shot. When the ball flew towards him again, he raised his bat high and let the ball soar over Charlie's head. If they had been playing in the field, he knew it would have gone over the boundary for another sixer.

"See? You're getting the hang of this," Oliver called out with a proud smile. "Hey, Char, why don't you bowl to him? I'm not an all-rounder, so let's see how Marcus fares with a bowler instead."

"Hey, kid," Charlie called out to him as he jogged backwards to the other end of the pitch. "Don't mind if I get you out on the first ball of my spell. I'm just that good, you know?"

"Well, then you shouldn't mind when I hit you for a sixer," Marcus called out, which made Oliver laugh heartily.

"Tough luck sledging him, Char," Oliver teased, stepping back to watch. "Marcus looks like a tough one."

Charlie rotated his wrist as he swung the ball at him, making sure his elbows weren't straight, and Marcus stepped forward and let the ball ricochet off his bat over his shoulder. Charlie threw his head back and let out a hearty guffaw, his shoulders trembling with amusement.

"That was great, kid! Too bad you're not on my team yet, or I'd definitely have used you in the last match — did you see how intimidating Knott was?" Charlie said, winking at him, and Marcus beamed at his compliment.

Oliver walked over and clapped him on the shoulder, grinning at him. "You really did smash a sixer, huh? Wicked! You've definitely got the talent, Marcus, so promise me you won't give up."

Marcus swelled with pride, tears welling up in his eyes, as his idol — and crush — praised him. "I won't. I promise."

"That's the spirit, kid. Now, you get back in those nets and practise some more," Charlie said, pounding him on the back with his large hand. "There's no doubt we'll be seeing you soon if you keep working at it."

Three years later, when Marcus was selected to play for the international squad by the administrators, Charlie Weasley beamed as he welcomed him to the team.

"Are you going to smash it through the covers this time?" Oliver teased him when he saw Marcus already practising his batting technique in the nets.

"Ollie would like to smash you through the covers — over them, under them, doesn't really matter to him as long as there's a bit of stroking and smashing," Charlie yelled at Marcus and ran. Oliver began to chase him down the hall, screaming expletives at him.

Marcus tried to wipe the grin off his face, but he just couldn't. His secret feelings for Oliver seemed to be reciprocated, and he was an overnight sensation himself. As he readied himself for the next shot, he thought, 'Life can't get any better than this.'

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