When You Wasn't Famous
By: Sam Lincoln
Disclaimer: The characters from Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and are used here without permission.
"When you're a famous boy/it's gets really easy to get girls/It's all so easy you get a bit spoiled/but when you try to pull a girl who is also famous too/It Feels Just Like When You Wasn't Famous
-When You Wasn't Famous, The Streets
Chapter 5: Fit and She Knows It
Harry stood on the dais in a Ministry press room alongside the other starers for the English National Team. He did his best to look interested as Ministry official droned on to members of the press about the team, but it was a lost cause from the jump. Instead he let his attention wander to his teammates. Standing closest to him were the two Beaters: Derek Prentiss and Joe Colbourn. Prentiss was the larger of the two, the tallest player on the team in fact, but he had a ready smile the reputation for being one of the the nicest bloke you could hope to meet off the pitch. Though he was a little too fond of drink if the rumours were true. Colbourn was shorter, but his stocky, muscular frame meant he was Prentiss's equal with a Beater's bat. More taciturn than the gregarious Prentiss, Colbourn was nevertheless someone no team wanted to anger. His retribution was usually swift and bloody.
Standing next to the Beaters was Chris Howse, the Keeper. A man of average height with sandy blonde hair and a boyish face that not even his Van Dyke beard could hide. Howse was a rarity amongst Keepers in that he was normal. Every other Keeper Harry had met in his career was a veritable cornucopia of neurosis, but not Howse. Before matches he would joke around with the rest of the team, and during a match he would still carry on with the other flyers as if nothing else important was happening. In his own way, such preternatural calm was as disturbing as the most neurotic Keeper's antics. He was not the most talented Keeper in the league, but he was the most dependable, and in a high pressure situation like knockout play that was key.
Next to Howse, standing in the center of the dais, was Steve Westerman, the team captain. In his youth Westerman was a dynamic scorer, but age and injury had robbed him of his explosiveness. However his knowledge of the game and passing ability more than made up for it. He was now arguably one of the best two-way players in the world, and the perfect compliment to the man standing beside him. Brendan Shetley was tall, almost the same height as Prentiss. That size allowed him to set up camp in front of the other team's goals letting him score practically at will. From farther out his strength gave him a heavy shot that had a reputation for knocking Keepers off their brooms. On the pitch the duo were ideal partners, off the pitch they were the epitome of an odd couple. Shetley was gregarious, and always had some improbable story to tell. Westerman was reserved and acted like a professional at all times. Though he also possessed a dry sardonic streak that would occasionally show through. Out of all the players on the team Westerman was the one Harry admired the most. He respected the way the older man conducted himself on the pitch and in the locker room. Unusually for a Quidditch captain Westerman was not a loud person. In fact he never raised his voice when delivering a pre-match pep talk, or when arguing with a referee. He didn't have to, his actions spoke for themselves. It was the hoariest of cliches, but even twenty years into his career he was the first member of the team to arrive at the training pitch and the last one to leave. That level of dedication left Harry more than a little awestruck and he always enjoyed the opportunities he got to fly with Westerman.
The last person on the dais was the one Harry also wanted to spend the least time thinking about, Ginny Weasley. While he obviously had been aware of Ginny's career; it would've been impossible to completely avoid it, he did not pay attention to it out of self-preservation. Although as Ginny's former house captain he did take pride at the success she'd had in the league.
"Merlin, she looks even better than when we were at Hogwarts," he thought to himself as he did his best not to stare at her.
Gradually Harry realized that the Ministry official had fallen silent and that everyone in the room was staring expectantly at him. While Harry's attention had drifted the press conference had entered the question and answer phase. Internally Harry kicked himself. One of the common criticisms people leveled against him was that he was too aloof, and not paying attention at a press conference like this would do nothing to change that opinion.
Harry flashed the reporter an embarrassed grin. "Could you, er, repeat the question please?"
"I said, what are your opinions on the team?" Don Shackleton, the senior Quidditch writer for the Daily Prophet, asked Harry.
"It's a good squad," Harry said. "Lots of talent. We should be able to make a run for the championship."
"And you have no reservations as Cabbock as manager?"
Harry frowned at the question. "Why would I? Cabbock is an excellent manager, just look at his record with Puddlemere."
"It's well-known that you wanted Demeraign appointed manager after Bowmore was sacked following the fiasco at the World Cup."
Harry glared at the pinch-faced reporter as he tried to collect his thoughts. Don Shackleton had never been a fan of Harry's. From the outset Shackleton disapproved of the way Harry was given the starter's position with the Tornados straight out of Hogwarts. In part because he did not feel a position as important as Seeker could be trusted to an eighteen year old. Mostly though it was because the player Harry replaced had always fed Shackleton choice quotes. Meanwhile Harry, while not being openly antagonistic about it, made no secret of the fact that he did not give a toss about currying favour with some old duffer.
Harry's subsequent domination of the league did not to endear him to Shackleton either. In fact the opposite was true. Harry became the biggest star in the star in British Quidditch, but because Shackleton had not anointed him as such there was nothing Harry could do to impress him. Recently Shackleton had been trying to make the claim that Harry was a poor teammate, and unfit for the honour of playing for the national side. It was true that Harry's antics during the club season could be seen as proving the point. In fixtures against lesser opponents Harry had a tendency to play up to the crowd instead of ending the match as quickly as possible. He reasoned the people in the stands paid a lot of money for their tickets and deserved a good show. To Shackleton though it was showboating. He also pointed to how few caps Harry had in international friendlies and qualifiers as proof Harry cared more about his wage than country. This despite the fact that it was the national team that chose to leave Harry off the starting roster for the inconsequential caps. It made no sense to risk the best player in the world to injury in a friendly after all.
"I'm a little confused," Harry said. "I was certain I read somewhere that I was responsible for getting Jaques sacked at Tutshill, never mind the fact that he retired. Why would I then turn around and demand he manage the national team?" A slight chuckle ran through the other members of press. The antagonism between Harry and Shackleton usually lead to interesting press conferences; which to the bored newspaper reporters was all they could hope for.
"It's an absolute fact that you aren't comfortable playing in Cabbock's system," Shackleton said, ignoring the thrust of Harry's challenge.
"I've never played in Cabbock's system, how in Merlin's name would I know if I was or wasn't comfortable playing in it?"
"For starters it's a system. Something you've never had to play in since none of your previous managers had the nerve to stand up to you."
"As I recall Don, you weren't too pleased with me being named manager," Cabbock said before Harry had a chance to reply. "Something about how Canadians couldn't possibly understand high level Quidditch like a European. So thank-you for the endorsement now, but you didn't have to go to the trouble. Harry Potter has the best Quidditch IQ of any player I've ever seen. I'm fully confident Harry will do just fine playing for me. And if he doesn't, I should be the one taking the blame. He is the best player in the world after all. In fact, I'm lucky enough to be able to say that about everyone standing on this dais. The expectations on this team are high, no question about that. But that's all right, I like high expectations. As long as we work hard, and play up to our potential we will be in contention to win the championship. Now does anyone else have a question for the team, or can we start in on the cocktail hour?" Cabbock asked the assembled reporters.
Harry sipped on his glass of champagne as he accepted congratulations from a wave of Ministry officials all looking to hobnob with the dashing young Quidditch star. Out of all of the obligations that went along with playing Quidditch, glad handing events were Harry's second least favourite. The unquestioned top spot went to dealing with the press.
"You know Harry, you really need to stop antagonising Shackleton," Sirius said as he stepped in front of Harry.
"Would you think less of me if I said he started it?"
Sirius chuckled into his own champagne flute. "Me, not at all, your mum is another matter though. You know how much she hates it when you get into fights with the press."
"Remind me again who you work for?" Harry asked.
"Technically you, but who do you work for?"
"Uh, Tutshill?" Harry said. Sirius stared at Harry who hung his head. "All right, my mum."
"Exactly, so stop letting dottering old fools like Donald Shackleton get to you. He's full of rubbish and anyone who knows anything knows that."
Harry sighed. "I know that, it's just how can a man have that much influence."
"And yet be so completely wrong about everything?"
"Yes exactly!" Harry said. "He's worse than that dreadful Skeeter woman who writes for the gossip pages. Can you believe he even argued against naming Ginny Weasley to the starting roster? She's only one of the best Chasers in the world, and that ponce doesn't want her on the squad because she 'Doesn't look like a winner.' Whatever that means."
"Ah yes, the lovely Miss Weasley, let us talk about her for a moment," Sirius said with a leer. "That is a bird I would not mind getting to know better."
"Steady on there you old dog, you're old enough to be her father," Harry said.
Sirius held up an index finger. "But the important thing is that I am not her father, and age is nothing more than a state of mind."
An old sensation started to build in Harry, one that he had long tried to ignore. "Come on Sirius, even for you this is low."
Sirius barked out a laugh and slapped Harry on the shoulder. "Oh relax would you, I've met Molly Weasley and I know better than to go sniffing around her only daughter. You on the other hand should take a run at her. Merlin knows you seem interested enough."
"You know I don't get involved in teammates," Harry said. "Anymore," he added in response to the disapproving look on Sirius's face.
Sirius threw an arm across Harry's shoulders. "Harry my boy, you are a good lad, and it is good to have rules to live by, but every now and then it's good for the soul to say 'Sod the rules,' and Ginny Weasley is the kind of bird you sod the rules for."
Harry grimaced. "That would be a terrible mistake. There is a lot riding on our performance this year. The last thing I want to do is cause any sort of drama for the team, by shagging one of our Chasers."
Sirius patted Harry on the shoulder. "Suit yourself my lad. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go speak to a few of these Ministry blokes. I'll see you tomorrow yeah?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah, of course." He clapped Sirius on the back and his godfather took his leave. Harry looked across the room and saw Ginny exchanging pleasantries with a young Ministry employee, a male Ministry employee. He groaned to himself when he felt the long forgotten roaring in his chest. It was going to be a long summer.
Author's Notes: This table is going to be well and truly set by the time I'm done. Fun fact, this chapter and the next were originally one chapter, but it broke the rhythm of the point of views so I split them into two. Which explains why these two might feel more slight than the rest of the story. Thanks again to everyone who's taken the time to read this little folly.