Heir of Merlin | Harry x Reader

Perks of Being Me

WORLD CUP! WORLD CUP!

Let's get into it.

First Person POV - Y/n

We all ran into the woods almost and we walked for about twenty minutes until we emerged on the other side and found ourselves in front of a giant stadium.

"Holy shit," I whispered as Ron came up next to me.

"You'll be playing in that next time we're here," whispered Ron.

For the first time, being a future professional player actually made me nervous. To have the chance to fly and do what I love in front of thousands.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again...bless them."

We walked inside, and met up with Remus, Marlene and Uncle Aboran. They had the same seats which were in the commentator's box. They were about as high up as one could go. I knew that those were good seats but the best ones were the ones that were halfway up the stadium, where other professional players, sponsors, and rich people would get to sit.

It gave you a feeling as if you were really in the game, and every family got their own special room.

Which is why I had been planning a small surprise since I found out who had access to them.

"Can you all come with me?" I asked turning towards them, "Just for a few seconds."

"Why?" asked Mr. Weasley, "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, everything's fine," I said. "Just trust me."

They all looked at me hesitantly but they caved and nodded. I guided all of them over to the entrance to the private sector, where a Ministry witch was standing checking tickets.

"No one say nothing and follow my lead," I said before Mr. Weasley, "Can I borrow the tickets?"

"Sure," said Mr. Weasley and he handed them to me.

"Hi," I said walking up to the witch, "My family and I seem to have gotten the wrong tickets. It's sending us up to the commenters box but we had them for the private section. If you could just print us new tickets for this sector, we'll be on our way in."

"I don't think I can do that."

"Come on now..."

The witch stared at me squinting and I just smiled.

"You're that new kid," said the witch, "Y/n Emrys, is it? Playing for England and the Magpipes."

"Yes, that's me," I said and I cleared my throat, "At the risk of sounding entitled, I think you should know, if you don't already, that I am a professional player. The youngest ever recruited in fact, younger than Viktor Krum."

"And surely," I added on since the woman still looked skeptical, "you know that I am a Black and Emrys, families with humongous fortunes. I'm about as rich as they get so with all that said, if you still have a problem, I'm sure you can take it up with the president."

"I don't think he would be too happy though that you wouldn't let someone of my background and family through," I finished, still smiling.

"Yes, but we don't have a room for you-"

"Now, now, what's going on here?" said a man walking over.

It was Filius Warborrow, the president of the International Association of Quidditch. I had met with him when I signed on. He was a relatively young man and the word was that he was the first one to pitch the idea of me getting recruited.