The tents were huge. Freya, Willa, and I were assigned to one with a living space with two pull-out beds and and a bigger room with a king-sized bed. A small bathroom was tucked away in the back for showering and getting ready, something I was quite thankful for. Willa immediately rushed over to the giant bed and started jumping on it. I would've told her to get down if I wasn't so awestruck.
So this is what they treat you like when you're the best in the world, I thought as I set by duffle bag down on one of the pull-out couches. I had faint memories of the last Quidditch World Cup I had been to. I was 13 at the time, too preoccupied with supporting Team Canada to actually take a look around me. This time I was determined to do so, and it seemed not to be a hard task as every little intricate detail seemed fascinating.
"Aiden's already bet someone a bag of Galleons on the game," Freya tsked. "What a chance he is."
I shrugged, "As long as he has the film in to me by tonight he can wager his whole house," I told her.
She smiled for a bit before pausing and saying, "Something's off with him."
"Who?" I asked.
"Aiden," she told me, "he hasn't been himself as of late."
"Maybe he's nervous," I suggested.
She raised her eyebrows, "Him? When's the last time he was nervous about anything? Especially the prospect of getting more attention?"
"It is the World Cup," I pointed out, "There's a lot of pressure."
She nodded. "Maybe that's it."
"You don't think so?" I questioned, not buying it.
"Not for a second."
I stayed quiet for a minute, thinking. "Do you think it's serious?"
She shook her head, "Girl troubles," she told me, "he and Adrian might just be going through a rough patch."
Adrian Ryan, an ex-member of the Irish squad who had left after a shoulder injury in 1991, flashed into my mind. For the first three years I was on the team Aiden had dated a menagerie of different women, but Adrian had been different. They had been dating now for almost 11 months, far longer than most of Aiden's flings lasted. I thought they had been fine. Now I was concerned. Was something truly wrong and I hadn't noticed? The question gnawed at me. The one thing Aiden was very good at was not bringing up his worries with everyone else. It seemed to be the one thing he didn't talk about regarding himself.
"I'll try and talk to him tonight," I told her.
"Good luck. I've been trying to get an answer out of him for the past week-and-a-half but his lips have been sealed."
He's been like this for almost two weeks? I thought. Jesus Desi, get your head out of your ass and take a look around!
"Enough about this," Freya told me as she grabbed my hand and said, "we'll solve Aidans problems later. We're at the Quidditch World Cup now, we should be having fun! Willa, come here sweetie; we're going exploring!"
My little sister, who had been jumping on the bed completely oblivious to our conversation, giggled as she jumped down from the mattress and skipped over to us. "What are we exploring?" she asked curiously.
"Anything we can find!" Freya announced as they charged out of the tent, "Last one to the boy's tent has to do the laundry!"
"No fair!" I laughed as I sprinted to catch up to them, the problems of others temporarily lost from my mind.
"Here's the film," Aiden told me as he dumped a crate of VHS tapes on one of the couches. We had been at camp for almost a week when he finally managed to secure me the footage I had asked for. We were playing Bulgaria tomorrow afternoon and we had absolutely no game plan. I looked at my watch; it was 8:40 PM. Looks like it's going to be another all-nighter, I thought. Still, I was excited to finally have the tapes.
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For the Love of the Game: Viktor Krum
FanfictionDesiree Natalia O'Cleary is no stranger to trauma. More than three years have passed since her parent's premature deaths as she prepares to play the most important game of her young Quidditch career: the finals of the Quidditch World Cup. As she and...