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 12: England vs. France
The first day of competition in the European Championship Cup had finally arrived, and Ginny felt like she was about to throw up. She, along with the rest of the team, was preparing for their opening match against France. While Ginny had played in important club matches before, none of them were even remotely as pressure-filled as the European Championship. Unlike the World Cup, with its byzantine group stages, the European Championship was a straight forward knockout tournament consisting of the sixteen best teams in Europe. That meant the matches were incredibly frenetic, and the margin of error for the top teams was surprisingly slim. One bad break could end a run well short of a team's expectations. The list of so-called "teams of destiny" that had crashed against the rocks of the first round was longer than Ginny's arm. That unpredictability made for great Quidditch from the fan's perspective, but for a player it was terrifying.
Harry poked his head around the privacy barrier separating the two halves of the changing room. "Are you decent?" He asked. He made a show of holding one hand over his eyes.
Ginny barked out a short laugh. "That depends on your definition of decent. I'm not wearing just my knickers if that's what you mean. And if you say you'll come back when I am just wearing my knickers I will hex you."
Harry removed the hand from his face and grinned at Ginny. "I'd never dream of saying something that cliche." He rounded the partition and walked over to the locker Ginny stood in front of. "I was going to ask if that meant you weren't wearing any knickers at all." He ducked and the first Stinging Jinx shot over his head. The second one however caught him square in the midsection. "Ow bugger, okay I give up."
Ginny lowered her wand. "I'm surprised at you Harry. You don't normally throw in the towel that easily."
Harry rubbed his still tender stomach. "If it makes you feel better consider it a ceasefire. I don't think Cabbock would appreciate us getting into a full-scale hex war right before the match starts." He then threw an arm over Ginny's shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze. "So how are you doing?"
"I haven't vomited yet," Ginny said and flashed Harry a wan smile.
"Don't worry, you'll feel better once the match starts."
"But what if I stuff things up?"
"Trust me, you will be magnificent. I've never seen anyone prepare as hard as you have Gin. Those French blokes won't know what hit them," Harry said.
"And why exactly are you the one giving me this pep talk?" Ginny asked. She crossed her arms in front of her. "I thought that was the captain's job."
"In his infinite wisdom our beloved captain figured you'd be less liable to cast any debilitating hexes at me." Harry again rubbed his stomach. "Apparently he was wrong about that."
"Don't be such a baby Harry. That was only a mild stinger."
Harry's eyes flew open. "That was mild?" he asked.
"You've met my brothers haven't you?"
"Yes I have and fair point."
"If it matters that much to you I can always kiss your boo-boo to make it feel better," Ginny said.
"Now that is a tempting offer. We can talk about it after the match. Right now though Cabbock wants to address the team." Ginny nodded and followed Harry around the partition.
The rest of the team had finished changing into their kit and were standing around Cabbock. Ginny took a spot next to Shetley and Westerman.
"All right there Ginny?" Shetley asked in a quiet tone.
"Just fine," Ginny said. "Thanks for asking."
"Okay everyone listen up," Cabbock said. "I know I don't have to tell you the importance of this match. All the training we've put in for the past month was to get your ready for this moment." As Cabbock spoke he cast his gaze around the room and locked eyes with each member of the team. "Most importantly though, remember this, that French side waiting for you? They are dangerous. They know there isn't a soul in this stadium that expects them to win today. They have nothing to lose and rest assured they will play that way. So play our game and not theirs. Now then, Steve wanted to say a few words." Cabbock moved off to the side and let Westerman step in front of the team.
"We all know what we have to do, so let's get to it."
"Real inspirational that one," Ginny said to Shetley.
"If you need a speech to get fired up to play in this match you shouldn't be here," Shetley said.
Ginny pulled a face. "Okay that's true, but still you'd like to see a bit more enthusiasm out of our leader."
Shetley clapped Ginny on the shoulder. "In that case you should replace Steve as captain of the team since that's as fired up he's going to get."
"Ready for your big debut Ginny?" Westerman asked after walking over to the other two Chasers.
"Ready? She's already scheming to take your spot as Captain!" Shetley said. He then roared with laughter at his own joke.
"Good, she's already taken my place as best Chaster on the team," Westerman said. He placed his hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Now are you ready to prove that to the rest of the world?"
Ginny glared at Westerman. "I'm cross with your for sending Harry in to check up on me."
Westerman took a step back from Ginny and crossed his arms across his chest. "I thought you'd appreciate seeing a friendly face. Was I wrong?"
"Why does everyone think I'm some sort of unstable menace prone to fits of rage?" Ginny asked.
"You said it, not me," Shetley said.
"She did hex me," Harry said, apparently unconcerned about acknowledging that he had been eavesdropping.
"And who's to say I think you're a friendly face?" Ginny asked and stuck her tongue out at Harry.
"Save it for the French," Westerman said.
They were interrupted when a tournament official walked into the locker room and whispered something to Cabbock who turned to face the room. "It's time," he said to the team.
The mood in the room shifted immediately and they all headed for the exit. A locker room attendant handed them their brooms as they entered the tunnel that lead not the stadium.
After Shetley took his broom he glanced back at Westerman. "Steve, what was that you were saying about Ginny taking your spot as the best Chaser on the team? I thought we all knew I was the best Chaser."
"I hate to break it to you mate, but we tell you that so you feel better about yourself," Westerman said.
"That hurts mate, that really hurts," Shetley said while the rest of the team laughed.
Ginny sat on her broom alongside the rest of the team and watched the opening ceremonies with equal parts impatience and boredom. As Quidditch officials droned on about the merits of fair play and the spirit of competition, Ginny took the opportunity to examine the pitch, because it was unlike any she had ever played on. Since space was at such a premium on the island of Atlantica one of the Quidditch pitches was actually constructed on the Mediterranean itself. The goals were sunk into the sea floor while the stands were mounted on large ships, as were the locker rooms and other training facilities. The whole stadium was an ostentatious ode to excess; in other words the European Championship Cup personified. Ginny wasn't quite sure how playing over water would work out, but on the scale of crazy conditions she had played through over the course of her career, there had been worse.
Finally the officials concluded their remarks and the anthems played. The referee took the Quaffle and floated to the center of the pitch. The two teams followed suit and lined up across from each other. Ginny tensed her grip on her broom and glanced over at Harry. He was hovering slightly above the rest of the team with a bored look on his face. Ginny felt comforted by his attitude, it reminded her of all those games they had played at Hogwarts. Even then Harry had looked unperturbed before the matched started, but Ginny knew just how nervous he'd been then, and she was sure that hadn't changed since he had the same expression on his face. That even Harry, the greatest player of his generation, was nervous calmed Ginny's nerves somewhat.
She looked across at the French Chaser lined up opposite her. He was a glowering sort named Pierre Monreaux. The scouting report flashed into her head: flew in the French league, tended to go to his left when shooting, and liked to use his elbows a bit too much. Apparently it was the French plan to put their nastiest Chaser on Ginny to unnerve her.
"Good luck with that," Ginny said to herself as she shifted her gaze from the hulking Frenchman back to the referee.
The sound of a cannon firing signaled the start of the match. The referee tossed the Quaffle into the air and dove out of the way. Westerman was off like a shot and snatched the Quaffle away from the outstretched reach of a French Chaser. Shetley raced towards the French goals in a bid to draw the attention of the defense and leave an opening for Ginny to exploit. Or at least that was the plan. Unfortunately for Ginny the moment the match started she had to dodge a Bludger. She flipped her broom into a tight spiral and the Bludger went sailing past her harmlessly. Ginny piled on the speed in an attempt to get back into position. As it turned out she applied too much speed and she well overshot her mark. The timed pass from Westerman flew past her and into the waiting arms of Phillip Beaufort, the star French Chaser.
Ginny bit back a curse as she spun her broom around to track back on defense. It was only her sense of danger that cause her to duck as another Bludger whistled perilously close to her head. She paused a moment to glare daggers at her own Beaters before resuming her chase of the Quaffle. In the time it had taken Ginny to evade the Bludger Beaufort had already raced to the English goals and fired off a shot. Howse was good, but there wasn't a Keeper alive who could stop Beaufort when he was allowed to get in close. Just like the French had drawn first blood that the score was ten to nil and . The referee retried the Quaffle and the team's reset at the center of the pitch. The referee gently tossed the Quaffle to Ginny and play resumed.
"Gallimaufrey!" Westerman shouted to Ginny, indicating the play he wanted to run.
Ginny nodded her understanding and pulled her broom into a steep climb. The idea behind this particular set piece was to attack the French defense both horizontally and vertically. Despite the fact that Quidditch involved all three dimensions most Chaser play took place at roughly the same altitude. Adding a vertical element to the attack placed extra stress on the defense, stretched them out and hopefully created holes for the English Chasers to exploit. The only drawback was that it was as difficult for the attacking side to execute as it was to defend. It was the sort of tactic used by Chasers with years of experience playing together, not a single month of training. It said something about Cabbock's trust in Ginny's ability to mesh with Shetley and Westerman that they were even trying such a maneuver.
All Ginny had to do to complete the play was pass the Quaffle down to Westerman when she hit the apex of her climb. However she saw Montreaux charging at her out of the corner of her eye. In trying to get ride of the Quaffle before Montreaux got there Ginny rushed her pass and sent the Quaffle sailing past Westerman's outstretched hand and into the waiting arms of Beaufort. The Frenchman again took the Quaffle down the pitch uncontested and shot it past the diving Howse.
As a defeated Ginny flew back to the center of the pitch Harry floated up alongside her. "All right there Gin?" he asked.
"I'm just fine," Ginny said. "Shouldn't you be off looking for the Snitch?"
"No need, it's over by the announcers box, and Renaud hasn't seen it once." Ginny looked in the direction of the box out of the corner of her eye and like Harry said she could see the Snitch hovering plain as day.
"So that means you're free to chat me up in the middle of a match then?"
Harry shrugged. "I was just thinking, remember before your first match against Slytherin?"
"You mean how Marcus Flint was going around saying he'd destroy me? What about it?"
"I was more thinking how you responded."
"I kicked him in the bits and we scored five hundred points in the match, so what?" Ginny asked.
"Oh nothing," Harry said. "I was just thinking is all. I'd better get back to making sure Renaud doesn't stumble into the Snitch by accident." He gave Ginny a little wave then flew off again.
"What was that all about?" Ginny asked herself. She then saw Montreaux's leering expression and the purpose of Harry's visit clicked. "Give me the Quaffle," she said to Westerman.
"You sure?" the captain asked.
Ginny's face set into a determined glare. "Yes. There are some French bits that need kicking."
Westerman nodded and threw Ginny the Quaffle after the referee handed it to him. Ginny took the Quaffle and dove straight at Montreaux. She called on Seeker techniques Harry taught her and shifted directions at the last possible moment, but the feint was still enough to send Montreaux corkscrewing into the sea. The move created enough of a gap in the French defense that Ginny was able to swoop in on the French Keeper uncontested for an easy score. As she returned to the center of the pitch she flashed the sodden Montreaux a feral grin. The European Championship Cup had officially begun.
Author's Notes: For as much as I will whine about Quidditch, thinking up the strategy was actually kind of fun. Thanks for reading and we'll do it again next week.
-sam