The chair was rather uncomfortable. Far too straight and far too hard. Zacharias Smith pointed his wand at the offending object and watched with smug satisfaction as it transformed into a large, squishy armchair fully equipped with a drink-holder and foot spa. He sighed. Now, onto matters of more importance.
Beside him, Cho Chang sat with a scowl on her face. She could not believe that this twerp had been chosen as a Quidditch World Cup commentator. Zacharias smirked at her and lifted his chin to peer out at the cheering crowd.
“Welcome to the Quidditch World Cup!” he bellowed.
The crowd responded with a roar of hectic excitement. Zacharias beamed complacently, loving the hundreds of people hanging avidly on his every word. This is what he deserved - attention and adoration from hundreds of people.
With a sudden whooshing sound, a flash of royal blue and silver whizzed past the commentator’s box so fast Zacharias's head was left spinning rapidly. Strangely disorientated for a moment, he felt a sharp jab in his waist and looked round perplexed to see Cho glaring at him pointedly.
"What are you playing at, Smith? You’re meant to be announcing the British team!"
“Right,” Smith mumbled.
Cho had now realised exactly why she had been chosen as the technical advisor; Zacharias had no clue what he was doing. “And now introdu-“ Cho started, trying to cover the aggravation she felt.
“Hey this is my job!” Smith snapped at Cho, not realising he still had the amplified wand to his throat. “You’re only the technical advisor. You just keep playing with those buttons and leave the important job for me.”
“Well then get on with it!” she urged, knowing this was going to be a very long night.
“And now introducing the English National Quidditch Team! Keeper, Harwood! Beaters, Vault and Adair!” he announced. Something stuck in his throat and he coughed into his wand sending a screeching static sound through the stadium. There was a painful and collective gasp from the crowd. “Chasers, Bolster, Davies, and Weasley,” he finally choked out.
Smith’s spluttering continued to reverberate around the stadium. “Water, water!” he gasped, gesticulating wildly.
“I think you’ll find a glass of Gillywater in your drink-holder,” Cho replied coldly. “And you’ve forgotten to announce the Seeker, Blythe Parkin. She’s also the Captain in case you weren’t aware.”
Smith slurped clumsily at the water, slopping it down the front of his brand-new onyx robes. The crowd tittered with annoyance “ a deep, murmuring sound “ and Smith quickly put his wand back to his throat.
“Plythe Barkin!” he announced pulling himself up rigidly with all the dignity he could muster. “Captain and Seeker!”
"Oh dear Merlin!" Cho threw her hands up in exasperation. This was getting utterly ridiculous. "Smith, its Blythe Parkin, you dim wit."
Zacharias looked at Cho with contempt and raised his wand to his throat at a deliberately slow pace. "Plythe Barkin, Seeker and Captain!"
There was an aggravated squealing noise to his left and Zacharias turned just in time to see Cho's head drop into her hands.
"You did it again," Cho's voice was muffled and cold. "You called the Captain of the English Quidditch team, Plythe, again! What in the name of Merlin’s shaggy beard is your problem?"
“You are just jealous that I was chosen to be the commentator over you, that I’m bet-” Smith’s eyes jolted up to a silver streak beside the blue and silver uniforms whipping across the opposite side of the stadium. “Whoa, it’s really the Silver Hippogriff!”
Cho shot him a dirty look again and Zacharias could hear the burst of laughter coming from the crowd. Shifting in his seat and giving a terrible excuse for a glare at Cho, he continued, “The English Team mascot, the Silver Hippogriff!”
As the crowd cheered, Smith’s eyes went back to the magnificent creature flying by.
Thousands of spectators watched as it soared gracefully about the stadium, utterly mesmerised. Its feathers sparkled silver in the blaring lights, its eyes a piercing royal blue. The English team swooped about the hippogryff, relishing the cheers and waving to their fellow countrymen and women.
Zacharias Smith had never seen a professional Quidditch match before. He had jumped at the chance, however, when Old Bagman had offered him the job. The chance of having all that power and all those people listening to him was too alluring despite his inexperience. What could be difficult about watching a game of Quidditch?
A red blur appeared on the pitch”Smith took two deep breaths.
"Introducing, the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team..."
Smith wanted to carry on, truly he did. But... they...they were just so, so captivating!
Nine of them glided onto the pitch, their blonde hair swaying as one in the wind. Each wearing the same red dress”cunning slits all over, revealing desirable skin. Smith felt his mouth open with a pop. Still, he couldn’t turn his eyes in any other direction.
Cho sighed impatiently, leaning over she grabbed his face and forced it in the direction of the Bulgarian Quidditch team.
However, this apparently did no good because as soon as Cho released him, his head simply snapped back round until his eyes locked onto the Veela once again.
Although they were all breathtakingly beautiful there was one that stood out unmistakably from the rest. Her hair was the same shimmering golden and she omitted the same gloriously captivating glow, yet Zacharias couldn’t help but stare at her, rapt. She danced and weaved around the other Veela with an enchanting grace and poise, flinging her arms around so softly they could have been made of sunshine. Zacharias was completely enamoured.
In the back of his mind he could hear a faint gurgling noise followed by another low hum. It was not until Cho poked him in the ribs with her wand (and a hot jolting spark) that Smith realised the odd sound was coming from himself and a large proportion of the male audience.
“Oi!” exclaimed Cho. “Pay attention!” She scowled at Smith as he turned back to the pitch, a small dribble trickling down his chin.
“And introducing the Bulgarian National Team,” he announced, feebly. Smith looked down at the parchment before him.
What? It was Troll to him.
“First up Keepe… er… Leev Zoografe!” Smith exclaimed.
Smacking her hand to her forehead, Cho screeched, “Smith, you rotten idiot, that is not how you say it!"
Smith shot a glare at the girl sitting next to him and smirked when she didn’t try to reply. “Beaters, Pyotr Vulchanov and Kalian Balaclava!” he announced with a smug look on his face, occasionally glancing down at the field to catch a glimpse of the beautiful women that had entered so shortly before.
Eyes wide with disbelief, Cho burst into laughter, “You can pronounce Vulchanov, but mess up Zograf and Balakova? BA-LA-KO-VA,” announced Cho, sounding out each individual syllable. “It’s not Balaclava. He’s not a woolly hat that thieves wear!”
Unfortunately, the Bulgarian team chose this moment to fly close to the commentator’s box, all simultaneously shooting Smith filthy looks. They obviously didn't appreciate his mispronunciation of their names. If this was supposed to scare Smith it didn't really have the desired effect. He just smiled lazily back, raising his eyebrows at the screech from the next seat. Cho was obviously not impressed. As if he cared.
However, the crowd was getting restless by this time and some people were shrieking at Smith, saying that if he didn’t "get the game started right this second they would hex his smelly…”
Smith slammed his wand to his throat before the absurd threat could finish. Opening his mouth, he felt a tingling sensation rippling over his tongue and he turned, rather annoyed, to face Cho. She smirked back at him this time.
“What have you done to me?” he spluttered, running his tongue over his lips.
“You’re not the only one sitting in this box, Smith. If someone does hex you, they might hit me instead. Now use that gob of yours and read out the team names.”
She turned back to her technician’s board and started playing with the twirling knobs.
“Making her way across the field, Captain Ivanova, followed closely by her fellow Chasers, Sloventsky and Vratsek!” Smith announced, oddly effortlessly. His smug smile grew wider as he turned from Cho back to the pitch.
“And finally, Seeker, KRUM!” he announced grandly. His ego growing with the volume of the crowd, which felt as though it may bring the entire complex crumbling to the ground, Smith looked sadly to the nine beautiful women taking their place along the sideline.
The small black chest in the centre of the pitch was swiftly kicked open, officially signalling the beginning of the match. There was a deafening roar from the crowd and the players immediately sped off on their brooms, Bulgaria instantly intercepting the Quaffle. Sloventsky shot the ball through the gleaming hoop at the far end of the pitch so swiftly that England’s Keeper Lennox Harwood didn’t even see it coming. Cheers from the Bulgarian supporters and groans from the English fans collided and rang out through the stadium. From his seat in the commentator’s box, Smith watched as Ginny’s face dropped. This was certainly not a good start for England.
“10-0 to Bulgaria!” Smiths voice boomed with a tone of disappointment.
Roger Davies took off with the Quaffle and zoomed down the pitch. Smith blinked at the speed “ he had never seen anything like it. This was nothing like the matches he had played and commentated at Hogwarts. The Bulgarian chasers swarmed towards Davies’ lone figure in perfect formation, creating a human barrier. Davies lobbed the Quaffle over to Ginny Weasley, but she fumbled and dropped it. Clara Ivanova of Bulgaria snatched the ball away and took off back down the pitch.
“And Weasley drops the Quaffle,” spluttered Smith, trying to keep up. “Clearly, she needs to pay more attention.”
“Will you shut it with your petty jealousy and get back to the match,” Cho growled under her breath.
“You’re one to talk…plus everybody knows the only reason she made the National Team is because of Potter,” Smith stated arrogantly. The crowd suddenly seemed to quiet and all turned toward the announcer’s box”apparently Smith had spoken louder than he had intended. “Davies has the Quaffle and is on a beeline to the goal, England may just be in this!” Smith exclaimed hoping to divert the crowd’s angry attention back to the match. “And England is finally on the board!”
"This is more like it," beamed Cho. "We’re back in the game! Not that you had anything to do with it!" She shot an irritated glance at Smith. "Also, that comment about Ginny was completely out of order."
“Yes because your opinion matters oh so much to me,” Smith shot back. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a game to commentate.” He turned his head pointedly back to the game and tried to focus on the action.
“Weasley has possession-” prompted Cho her voice dripping with loathing.
“I know that, give me a chance!” Smith mumbled petulantly.
Davies swooped past the defending Bulgarians and Keeper Zograf readied himself. Ginny Weasley flew up beneath Davies and with deft skill passed him the Quaffle.
The crowd burst into fervent cheering and whistling. Smith didn’t even realise the English had scored.
“Ten points for England bringing them up twenty points to Bulgaria’s ten!”
All thoughts of taunting Weasley aside, Smith was shocked as a figure with flaming red hair appeared in front of the commentator’s box. He felt a sharp, hot pain spread across his chest.
“You be careful, Smith,” hissed Ginny. “Next time I’ll do more than hex you.”
Smith opened his mouth to retort but she was gone before he could utter a single word. Players were allowed their wands on the pitch as long as they did not use them on other players, the referee or spectators. But Smith did not seem to know this and said nothing.
“Serves you right,” hissed Cho, raising her eyebrows in a mocking smirk. Smith’s lip curled up into a sneer. He turned back to the pitch but the angry crowd had already begun to shout and jeer. He had missed another scored point by the English team.
“And Bolster has possession,” he began, quickly trying to cover his mistake. The restless crowd continued to murmur, a low, droning buzz. “But oh! That’s got to hurt,” he proclaimed at Bulgarian Beater, Pyotr Vulchanov’s careful aim.
“And… hold on!” Smith exclaimed as the crowd came together in a collective gasp. “It looks like Krum has seen the snitch!” He watched the red blur speed upward into the sky. “And Parkin is in hot pursuit,” Smith continued. “Pity she’s a bit heavier nowadays after having three children.”
The crowd burst into angry jeers and yells at Smith’s insult. How dare he defame their prized Captain! As Krum descended back down to the pitch with no Snitch in his hand, the English supporters even failed to sigh in relief. There was now a constant murmur of dissent rippling through the crowd. How this idiot ever gained the commentator’s position was incomprehensible.
“And Krum has returned to the pitch. No sign of Parkin, though. I know Hermione Granger is here tonight. Trying to show off for her in front of her fiancé, Krum? Trying to rekindle an old flame, eh? Not that I can see appeal. She’s a bit too up herself for me-” But this time his insult was cut short. The crowd seemed to burst back into life as Smith sighted two Bludgers hurtling towards the box where he sat. Cho leaped out of the way but Smith was too slow. The heavy balls smashed through the glass screen with such power that the metal railings rattled with the force.
Smith barely had time to let out a strangled yelp before the Bludgers suddenly changed direction and flew back through the shattered screen onto the pitch. The referee pocketed his wand and swung his broom back into the action. Smith collapsed onto the floor shaking. He looked up to see both Krum and Weasley, each handing a Beater’s bat back to their respective team-mates, scowling in his direction.
“I warned you,” hissed Cho angrily. “You’re going to get both of us killed here if you don’t keep in line!” She waved her wand and the broken glass reformed seamlessly. “Now get back to your chair, sit down and focus on the actual Quidditch!”
By the time Cho and Smith finished bickering the players had returned to their game and Bolster was in possession of the Quaffle, swiftly zooming down the pitch at full force with the Bulgarian team hot on his heels. Just before Bulgarian chaser Clara Ivanova managed to grab the ball out of his arms however, Bolster wrenched sharply on the handle of his broom and whipped around until he was facing in the opposite direction. He lobbed the ball haphazardly at Ginny Weasley.
There was a tense intake of breath from the crowd as the ball sailed through the air smoothly and applause boomed from around the stadium seconds later when Ginny snatched it from the sky and fought her way towards the goal. With her red hair streaming behind her like fire, and the menacing expression on her face, she was certainly a force to be reckoned with. Nothing was going to stop her scoring. Sure enough the ball shot effortlessly through the gold ring and ten more points went to England. This was much to the obvious disgust of the Bulgarian team who had clearly taken the lead early in the match only to be overwhelmed by England’s determination to succeed. Who could blame them? It was the first Quidditch World Cup following Voldemort’s demise. The Bulgarian supporters were getting nasty though, jeering and booing noisily at every English player that flew too close to them.
“Things are certainly getting heated out there. Makes me almost glad I’m in here with Chang. She can keep any room cold with just one look,” Smith said with another smirk. The crowd tittered restlessly. How an idiot such as Smith, who clearly had never been to a professional Quidditch match in his life, could be awarded such a sought-after position was beyond comprehension. This was a complete joke to them. A joke, which was not very funny, to be honest.
Smith looked over his shoulder at Cho who was glaring at him. With a jolt, he realised that her wand was pointing directly at his nose. He opened his mouth but nothing except a mere gurgling sound came out. Then, just as suddenly as it had been raised, Cho lowered her wand and stalked from the room. He could hear her shoes clacking along the metal stands. Smith had just breathed a sigh of relief when the crowd seemed to erupt with noise. He turned back to the pitch to see the English team gather together in a tight huddle. They had scored yet another goal and Smith had missed it.
“You missed another one, Smith! Stupid tosser!” Smith stuck his chin out at the insult.
“Well,” he replied to the crowd. “Perhaps this match would be more interesting if the teams had been chosen on skill rather than celebrity!”
The crowd burst into crowing jeers. “SMITH!” came a familiar booming voice and the stadium grew silent. All that could be heard was the whipping of the wind about the Quidditch players who continued their game despite the mutinous audience. Smith cast his eyes around the stadium trying to find the source of the voice.
“SMITH!” came the voice again. “Relinquish your post immediately or suffer the consequences.”
“No!” shouted Smith. “I’m doing a fine job here. I have no idea what your problem is!”
“Our problem is you!”
Shouts of ‘Yeah!’ and ‘You tell him!’ scattered about the crowd as they turned their attention back to the match.
Smith bit his lip. He was safe here, right? He looked around nervously before turning back to the pitch.
"And Weasley has possession of the Quaffle! She’s speeding down the pitch as fast as she possibly can, although she could go faster if she wasn’t so distracted by Potter. She throws it to Davies. Merlin’s Beard! He dropped the ball! And it’s scooped up by Sloventsky, who passes to Vratsek, who shoots and... NO! He scored! This is a rotten blow for the English team.” Smith continued his commentary deciding it was best to ignore the threatening voice. He knew he was doing a fine job up there in the commentator’s box no matter what the rest of those ungrateful spectators thought. Smith had been chosen above all others. He was the best. And he was here on the authority of the Ministry. The voice surely belonged to some hung-up miscreant who had been denied a job at the institution. Yes, that must be it.
“That leaves the score at 20 points to 20 with Weasley still playing well below average, dear, dear. And we’re off again! Ivanova has the Quaffle for Bulgaria, currently chased down by Bolster and Weasley. She’s not going to get away from them easily”they’re sticking to her like glue. Woah, that Bludger almost hit Weasley in the head. Probably aimed at her by Vault… he and Davies are good friends and I don’t think Davies ever got over that little crush we all know about. Rita Skeeter had some interesting comments on those rumours just last week! Potter better watch his head!
“And Bolster snatches the Quaffle back from Ivanova with no help for her in sight. Where are her team mates when she needs them? And Bolster is racing back down the pitch; on either side of her are Weasley and Davies doing a mediocre job of blocking. But what’s this? Parkin has taken a sharp right turn! Has she spotted the Snitch? Krum has also spotted something, although maybe that’s just old-flame-Granger in the audience? Her boyfriend better watch out, if Krum goes for her with half as much determination as he chases down the Snitch then old Ron doesn’t stand a chance.
“Ah no, it appears Parkin didn’t see anything, just faking it apparently. It’s really not looking good for England right now. Weasley has the Quaffle again and last time that happened it didn’t end so well for the team. Aaaand it appears her luck is still running thin”she shoots but Zograf blocks the goal!” The Bulgarians in the crowd roared back into life, the stands a sea of red as Zograf’s scowling face flashed upon the magical score-board.
“Just goes to show that even Potter’s girlfriend can’t succeed on fame alone-”
There was an even louder roar from the crowd. This was one insult too far for them. Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world, was not someone to joke about lightly. This was the first Quidditch World Cup since the defeat of Voldemort and sensitivities were clearly still high.
Zacharias suddenly looked about the commentator’s box nervously. There seemed to be a rumbling noise coming from below. He could hear footsteps on the metal railings outside coming closer and closer and closer. He turned back to the pitch clutching at the squishy arm-rests. He should just continue his job… he was chosen for it... he deserved it. Yes, he would carry on!
“And Weasley has the Quaffle. Davies! Bolster! Sloventsky! Davies! Weasley! Ivanova! Weasley! And Weasley scores! Well, that was a long time coming.
“And Ivanova has possession. But oh! Thomas Vault sends a Bludger at the Bulgarian and England gains the Quaffle. Bolster! Weasley! Bolster! Davies! Davies scores! That’s 40 to 20 for England! Can they keep up this momentum? We’ll have to wait and see…
“I see Krum isn’t looking too happy. Perhaps he’s spotted Granger snogging her fiancé in the crowd. I wouldn’t be too jealous if I were him, though. Look at those Veela down there! Much more attractive…”
Krum shot Smith a glare and sped off up into the dark night sky. Smith smirked again. The English supporters had drowned off the ominous sounds from below the box.
“And look at Weasley go! Oh, but Zograf blocks that one. She’s lost it again, I’m telling you. And Ivanova! Vratsek! Ivanova! Vratsek! Sloventsky! Bolster! Vratsek! Weas- ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Smith leapt from his comfortable, foot-spa inclusive armchair yelping with pain. He could feel boils erupting all over his body in places where boils should not erupt! He ripped off his shirt as someone grabbed him from around the waist, pulling him from the room. He could suddenly hear the crowd swell behind him.
“Yeah! Go Lee! You get him out of here!”
“Good riddance!”
“Finally! Can we have some proper commentary here?”
Zacharias struggled within the iron grip of none other than Lee Jordan.
“GERROFF!” screamed Smith. “This is assault! You are trespassing in an official Ministry office! Argh! You just burst one of my boils!”
His attacker shook with laughter and Zacharias attempted to turn and glare at him. That was when he saw her. Cho Chang stood at the doorway with a smirk of her own; wider and smugger than anything Smith could ever make.
The crowd seemed to roar even louder. Smith scowled and tried to claw away from Jordan.
“WHAT’S GOING ON?” he yelled, desperately trying to be heard over the spectators.
“They’re cheering for you, Smith. They’re absolutely loving the sight of your boiley backside being booted out of this box!” he chuckled.
“No!” screamed Cho from the glass screen. “Parkin has caught the Snitch! England has won. England has won the World Cup!”
Suddenly Jordan released Smith sending him sprawling to the floor. He hit the ground hard and felt another boil burst.
“YOU MADE ME MISS THE END OF THE MATCH!” he screeched as Lee and Cho jumped up and down with delight.
“They won! They won!” cried Lee. “They won!”
“YOU RUINED EVERYTHING! NOW I WON’T GET THAT PROMOTION!”
“Oh shut up you stupid Troll,” said Cho glaring down at Smith. “It’s your own fault. If you had been a normal and decent human being in the first place you would have seen the entire match to the end.” She turned away from Smith’s pathetic figure lying on the floor. “Let’s celebrate!” she yelled at Lee and they ran from the box hand in hand.
Smith slumped back to the floor, wailing incomprehensibly. Surely someone from the Ministry would be around to save him soon. He’d press charges. This treatment was outrageous and Chang’s behaviour was hardly exemplary of a Ministry employee. Clearly, she had poor breeding but still… her character was questionable at best.
He flipped over onto his other side in search of his wand. Perhaps he could stop the boil problem although he had never really mastered healing charms. However, instead of a thin piece of wood, Smith came face to face with a rather large, intimidating, red-booted pair of feet. He looked up into the eyes of Viktor Krum.
Merlin.
Of Bludgers and Boils by the opaleye, bellatrix-black-lestrange, jubjub15, Rainy Day Parade
Story Notes:
Thanks to our beta, Sarah/TheCursedQuill.
Chapter Notes: The first half of this fic was co-written by all four authors during the Jan/Feb round of the QWC. The second half was written by the opaleye and jubjub15 after the round had ended.~
Chapter Endnotes: Thanks for reading!