For the Love of the Game: Viktor Krum

Chapter Four: All Or Nothing

I knew that there was always things about me the the National Team's publicity department wished they could make disappear. My American accent was one. To them it didn't matter that I had been born in Ulster and raised in County Cork, not when I sounded like a "bloody yankee". 

"I am an American," I had told them the first time they complained of it. It was true. I was a joint citizen of Ireland and America. "But I grew up here and I want to compete for this country." 

Still there were other complaints. "She wasn't educated at Hogwarts," one person said. 

"Yes, I go to Ilvermorny. Now what's the problem?" 

Apparently all of it. I didn't act "European" enough. I wasn't very sophisticated either though fashion journalists now followed me left and right. I played too rough too. A stupid hill to die on but one they would bring up nonetheless. 

In America we didn't play Quidditch, we played a much more violent game called Quodpot. It had the exact same rules as Quidditch except the balls exploded in the air. I had grown up shoving competition into stands and elbowing people out of the way to protect me from blasts. Quidditch, though I loved it, seemed like child's sport in comparison. 

In the long-run, Sean and I's accent had proven to be no real problem. They had marketed us as Irish as they could and it had worked. The only part of me that seemed to be American now was my voice and where I went to school. And so all the publicity management's worst fears spiraled down the drain. 

And I was glad of it. I never wanted to change my voice or my school. I was made to change my name but that was about it. I kept most of identity. I was still mostly me. 

And they had even adopted some of my customs. The idea of a manager instead of a coach had been so foreign to me and my brother. Managers work at McDonalds, we thought, they didn't lead sports teams. So O'Callaghan was always "Coach" to Sean and I. Eventually, the rest of the team started calling him that and it had stuck. The design of our robes were now lighter and shorter too, something Sean had suggested. He had gotten the idea from the outfits worn by his favorite Quodpot team, the Massachusetts Murtlaps. 

All of these traditions and identities, the ones that I had clung onto, as well as the ones that I had adopted, mixed together, now to make a new me. It was it quite like the young girl who had just been excited to get considered for a spot on the team. But at the same time, I certainly wasn't the born and bred Irish woman that was marketed to everyone by our publicity management. Somewhere between a 13 year old girl of the past and an A-list celebrity, there was me.

And I needed every bit of me to show up today. 

After practice we went straight to the locker rooms. New green and orange uniforms were hung up in our lockers. I smiled as I gripped the soft material. This was it. I changed into it quickly and then waited patiently as Freya combed and tugged at my hair till they were laying on my back in two neat braids that started at the tops of my head till she ran out of hair. 

For a while, everybody was simply giddy. We were like children, who had just arrived at a trampoline, park, anxious and ready to participate. Everybody got even more excited when Coach O'Callaghan walked in, staff members carrying several golden cases behind him. When he saw our confusion, he told us, "Take a look." 

Sean walked up to one of the cases which had his name on the front and opened it up. His eyes widened as he lifted up a brand, new Firebolt, the latest design on the market. It was the fastest broomstick of its generation, and judging by the amount of cases, each one of us was going to own one. 

I quickly looked for the case with D. Cleary written on the front and opened it up. Sure enough, it was a custom Firebolt with shamrocks engraved on the wood and D. Cleary, the same thing that had been written on the broom's case, decorating the side of the broom in gold lettering.