AQL

Pain, glory, effort and balls... that's what my old man said Quidditch was all about. Ever since I was twelve, I knew I would never be happy doing anything other than playing Quidditch. Being from a pureblooded Wizarding Family, I was raised on the sport all my life, but I never truly understood what it was all about until I lifted off for my first Quidditch game at school, playing for the Castagloria Charms in the first year conference. Yeah, it was safe to say I was a natural... probably one of the reasons I'm one of the starting seven chasers for the Las Vegas Veelas, one of the top Pro Quidditch teams in the United States.

God, did you hear that? I am one of the starting seven chasers for the Las Vegas Veelas... I actually made it. Isn't that most people's dream? I mean, I graduated right from my seventh year at Castagloria School of Sorcery (I wasn't a great student... but I didn't suck. My old man got me the best tutors he could.) and I'm taken into the first round draft, given a salary of one hundred thousand galleons a year.

I could feel the butterflies fluttering in my chest, pounding against my stomach... stealing my breath. I could taste that churning, that anxiousness... that sweat... all of my blood in my face, pounding against my cheeks. It was the feeling that could only be experienced before a Quidditch match.

So, there I was, sitting in the Vegas Veela's locker room, surrounded by these people that I'd worshipped since I was practically in dippers. I mean, to the left of me is Rodney McFain... three times winner of the MVS (Most Valuable Seeker) award. And believe me, in a league with nearly forty teams, with countless other amazing seekers, that was extremely good. He was starting his eighteenth season, I mean, hell... this guy was playing Pro Quidditch on the day I was born! I had tried so bad to become a seeker just like him. My dad was a seeker, and he was always so upset that I just wasn't good enough for the position. See, I'm sorta tall, six foot three... and, truth be told, a bit on the hefty side... about two hundred pounds, but I'm trying to slim down. And, eh... well, I hate to admit it, but my hand eye coordination isn't great. I mean, sure, I can make some amazing catches with a quaffle and I was probably one of the best flyers at my school, but, I just never could beat out our team Seeker to the Snitch.

I glanced at Rodney once. With a sixth sense that only a seeker could develop, he sensed my eyes on him immediately and looked up. He was approaching forty years old, but damn, he didn't look more than a few years older than me.

"How you holdin' up, rookie?" he asked, in his usual gruff but kind tone.

I nodded and offered him a weak smile. What else could I do? Every time he looked at me, I could barely resist asking him to sign an autograph for me. "I'll live," I managed, though in hindsight, my voice probably suggested otherwise, as it came out more like a croak.

"Don't be so sure," remarked a soft, sly voice from my flank. I then felt a rough slap on my back. "The Necromancers have a long standing tradition of leveling rookie chasers within the first five minutes of the game."

I turned to see who slapped me on the back, though I didn't really need to see her to guess who it was. Catherine Underhill, the half-court, right side Beater for our team. It was sort of funny seeing her with her bat slung over her shoulder. Growing up, all the beaters I ever played with were the largest kids in our grade... slow as turtles, but as powerful as buffalos. If you caught one in the face from one of em' season was over for ya.

"What do you mean?" I asked, finding my true voice at last. Ma always said I would have made a great singer... if I actually learned how the heck to carry a tune. Most girls kinda like my voice, on the lighter, more energetic side. I've been forced to give it some thought ever since my girlfriend refused to let up on it. I guess people just don't like to hear a voice that sounds like a tuba.

"Well," Catherine said pompously, heaving her bat off her shoulder and giving it a practice swing. "Let's just say they have a warm way of welcoming draft picks from the other team. They call it the Necromancer's Ritual... if it doesn't hospitalize ya, it'll hurt pretty good."

With that, Catherine laughed and went to join the other half-court beater, a monster of a man named Martin Jones, though he has gone by "Mug" for the past five years... I suppose he got that nickname because he has the ugliest mug you'll ever see.

"Don't mind the old Bludger, rookie," commented Rodney with a cackle. "That means she likes ya. But, try not to piss her off, either way."

I arched my brows with confusion, but at that point, I was going to accept any praise I could get. "I'll try not to..."

All and all, there were about forty other Quidditch players in the locker room. See, Quidditch in the American leagues is played mighty differently than in the European Leagues. When I was younger, it was the standard seven on seven with three chasers, two beaters, one seeker and one keeper. But, in truth, most wizards just started watching American Muggle Football instead. Much more strategy involved... an entire team struggling for yards, and even though they didn't fly... it was still a damn fun game to watch. My father always called me a damn fool for Flooing over to my friend Steven's house after school and watching the NFL playoffs on his Muggle TV. He was a Muggleborn, of course, and a great friend for me to have, let me tell ya.

Once the AQL (American Quidditch League) realized how much revenue they were loosing to Muggle Sports, they changed Quidditch around a bit. Now, the teams were fifteen on fifteen, with seven chasers, six beaters, one keeper and one seeker. Also adopting more ideas from American Football, most teams now run with second and third string Chasers, Beaters, Keepers and even Seekers, in case of injury. Though, I wasn't really afraid of that. Even if I caught one in the face, our team Mediwizards would rush out, heal me up, and have me back in the game in a minute. It sucks though that we have to conform to the Quidditch World Cup standards of seven on seven though... with nearly a thousand players qualified to play, it sorta makes getting one of the seven spots a distant dream for even the best of the best... which is what I guess we were. Even Rodney had yet to play in the Quidditch World Cup, though he was holding high hopes for the next five years.

I was about to open my mouth to say something else to Rodney, when the door suddenly burst open and Coach Little stormed into the locker room. In truth, I had no idea what his real name was, but that was the name he chose for himself... I guess he was just tired of the running joke. He was a dwarf, like something ripped out of those Tolkein books. But, even though he barely cleared my belly button, I wouldn't want to cross him with an army at my back. This dwarf's legs were as wide as my waist and his arms as wide as my legs!

"Alite, lizzun up!" barked the dwarf, in a voice that might have killed banshee. His long beard flapped as his mouth opened and closed like a feeding shark. "Ye know the startin line up. When I call fer rotations, ye get yer worthless arses off the field within seven seconds, er ye pack yer bags. Last season, we gave up nearly a hundred points fer stupid technical penalties like too many men on the field!"

Everyone had told me to prepare myself for Coach Little's style of coaching. The general manager of the Veelas had told me he always bluffs... but if you call his bluff, he will make you sorry in other ways. Needless to say, since I was the only first year rookie in the room, I didn't want to get on his bad side.

"The Necromancers be havin' hammers fer Beaters... two MVB winners that'll be playing back n' makin our offense hurt. Mug n' Underhill, ye'll both be playin up and givin our boys n' girls some protection! I don't want ta loose a single player fer more than a second!"

"Yes, sir!" replied Catherine and Mug firmly.

"We'll be nailin em in the one place it'll hurt..." pronounced Little, smashing his gargantuan fist into his hand. "They got a rookie seeker from England... McFain, I want ye to show him how we do things in the great olde U.S of A. If we be loosin by more than one hundred points, I be wantin ye to catch the snitch. Until that point, 'owever... I want ye to keep the Brit kid from grabbin it... LAY EM FLAT IF YE GOTTA... but we'll be needin the extra points! Only when I say to... grab the snitch!"

"Yes, coach," nodded Rodney with stoic indifference.

"Alite!" yelled the dwarf. "Get dressed and kill em out there!"

"Yes, coach!" yelled the rest of the players as Coach Little stormed out, like a dwarf on a mission.

I cast aside my navy blue windbreaker and jeans and reached into my locker. Already hung, ironed, pressed and tailored specific to me was my own Veela Quidditch robe. I knew I had two, one for away games and one for home games. Today, we were home... right in downtown Las Vegas: hidden from the view of Muggles, yet so very close to them. Every Quidditch fan in North America would be here... I could hardly wait.

I threw on my home colored robes, a solid white suit with ice blue pads and golden cuffs, as well as an embroidered cloak with the number 37 stitched on the back. I hardly knew what I was doing and where I was going, my head was spinning so fast. My fingers were shaking with nerves, and I just couldn't get the robe to button up correctly.

I flushed red with embarrassment. Here I was, standing in the presence of legends... and I couldn't even button my damn robes. Some were snickering, and it seemed the whole team was waiting on me. I couldn't help but panic and my quaking fingers blotched up the ordinarily simple task even more. One of the other chasers, a kind woman named Alexis, approached me. She was playing adjacent to me at center, for she was tall and quick. She was not much older than I... perhaps this was her third season. Her short brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, to avoid distraction during play. I thought she looked better like that, anyway.

"Let me help ya with that, rookie," she said kindly, and proceeded to slap my hands away from my robe and button it up properly.

I tried to form a response, but my lips couldn't stop shaking. God, I was such a nervous wreck. Now, not only was I anxious about my first Pro game... I was being dressed like a damn toddler.

"Thanks," I finally managed to get out.

Alexis smiled and nodded, slapping me in the face with soft, trivializing contact. "We all know what you're going through... we've all been in your shoes once. Cool off, take a few deep breathes, and just play your game."

Her voice nearly soothed me, but, not even an attractive woman could do it for me at a time like this. She seemed to pick up on this as I licked the nervous sweat from the top of my lip and nod weakly.

"I'll tell ya what, newbie," she continued, with her kind tone. "You help me win this game today, and I'll take you out for a drink afterward."

How grand could life get? Who was I to refuse such a kind offer... at last I looked into her eyes and smiled slightly.

"Alright, boys and girls," clapped Rodney, standing up and cutting off further conversation. "It's game time... let's send these Necromancers back to the graveyard!"

I offered Alexis the best smile I could in lieu of a verbal response... I hope she didn't mind, cause if I opened my mouth, I probably woulda vomited.

* * * * * *

While we were standing in the tunnel leading out to the field, I felt as though I was on trial for my life. Though I was over six feet, I felt so incredibly small and insignificant... like a boy given a chance to fly with his dreams. I knew I could not hope to even equal a sliver of the talent assembled today, but, if I wanted to keep my job and make my old man proud, I was gonna have to give it my all.

The loud, heavy-metal tune blasted over the arena and into the terminal leading into the arena; industrial and heavy, one of my favorite types of music, was psyching up both the fans and the players alike for the game.

"Ladies and Gentleman," blared one of the commentators over the music, a well-known wizard named Melvin Cline with dark skin and a portly build. "Welcome to the first game of the 1998-1999 American Quiddich League Season, the New York Necromancers verses our very own Las Vegas Veelas! Let's here it f?r our two teams!"

The roar of the crowd was almost deafening, and I was not even in the arena.

"Tonight," continued Cline, "we are proud to announce that the Ministers of Magic from France, England, Germany, Spain... as well as our very own Minister Haigan... have joined us this evening to partake in the spectacle!"

Great, I thought... if I screw up, the entire world would know about it. I gripped the shaft of my Firebolt X2, my own bladder feeling weak.

"And now, presenting the line-up for the visiting Necromancers, my colleague, Daniel Tate!"

I swallowed the building lump in my throat... but the damn thing just wouldn't go away. Daniel Tate began to announce the line-up from the visiting team, starting with number, school graduated from, body measurements, position, and finally name. The names flew through my head like a blur. Every single one of them I recognized from either my Quidditch collectors cards or my very own experiences in the stands of Quidditch games in the past. Finally, there was only one that I did not recognize.

"And last but not least, Number 13, from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England, standing at 5'6 and weighing one hundred and fifty-two pounds, playing Seeker position for the New York Necromancers, Drrraaco Malfoy!"

"That's the rookie seeker from England," I heard Alexis whisper to myself and another chaser, a large dark-skinned man named David Waines. "I hear he's pretty good, though Rodney'll take his world apart."

I nodded, though in truth, I didn't care.

"Seems like we have one heck of a game brewing here, but, the talk of the night has got to be young Seeker rookie Draco Malfoy, fresh out of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A long way from home, he was signed as a free agent after being refused the starting position of the English international team to his long time school rival, Harry Potter. He was recorded to say, and I quote, 'I won't be playing as a subordinate to that four-eyed bastard," continued Dan, ending his dialogue with a laugh.

"Seems like his passion will be flying high tonight... wonder if he will be able to match up against urban legend Rodney McFain," interjected Melvin.

"We will find out in one short match, Melvin. Anyway, announcing the starting lineup for our very own Veelas, we have Helen Fairchild!"

This was it, I couldn't get scared now... my team was counting on me.

"Number 26, from Nevada State School of Wizardry, standing at 5'10 and weighing in at one hundred and thirty-one pounds, playing Center Chaser for the Las Vegas Veelas, Alllllexis Martinez!" announced a perky, female voice.

Our team let up a hardy cheer as Alexis leapt on her broom and blasted out of the terminal, zooming out onto the arena.

"Number 37, from Castagloria School of Sorcery, standing at 6'3 and weighing in at two-hundred and one pounds, playing Center-Right Chaser for the Las Vegas Veelas, Naaathaniel Halbend!

Hearing my name shout out like that gave me a charge of adrenaline unlike anything I had ever felt before. The cheers of my own teammates eclipsed the cheers of the crowd and I felt as though my back was going to explode... so many people slapping it!

I thrust my Firebolt X2 between my legs and without a second thought, I blasted out from the terminal. The first thing I felt was a feeling of complete dizziness, as the fifteen foot wide corridor suddenly opened up into a stadium nearly a quarter of a mile across and wide. The noise of the cheering crowd hit me like a sledgehammer, splitting through my head like a lance, driven by a knight. My vision blurred as my tongue slipped to the back of my throat, causing me to momentarily choke.

Beneath me, the floor dropped away into a large pool of shimmering, phosphorescent water that shifted colors every minute from sea green, to neon orange to light purple and back. One thing the Veelas were number one in the AQL for was the sheer beauty of their arena: the Aquadome. A dozen fountains periodically and randomly shot pillars of water up over one hundred feet high. Not only were Bludgers such a concern for us, but to be caught in the blast of one of those pillars would bring you down mighty fast... well, not before slamming you unconscious into the ceiling first, of course.

The circumference of the arena/pool was made up by fifty-foot walls, upon which the first rows of the stadium were perched, stretching up about twenty-six rows to the far ends of the stadium. The stadium was capable of housing nearly one hundred thousand, and every time, the crowd filled up our stands with people to spare.

Low hanging rafters also posed a dangerous, yet rewarding opportunity. To drive the quaffle up there and to negotiate the dangers of the metalwork was a practice I had been forced to drill on, for Alexis liked nothing more than to work those obstacles to the team's advantage.

Suspended from the pool, sixty feet in the air, were two scoring pitches on each side of the watery arena. I had learned to fire upon them to exhaustion; Circle shots, Canon shots, Spin Shots, ... hell, I even patented my own, with dad's help... the Halbend Halberd. I was not going to use it this game though, I just didn't have it down quite yet.

Some of the more skilled chasers with great magical talent were known to curse the Quaffle before shooting. Should the keeper catch it in the body, and not deflect it with his broom, he could be poisoned, stunned, or even cursed to sleep... until a fall to the water below awoke him. Alexis had been trying to teach me the Sleeper Shot... and I'm getting the hang of it. Once in awhile, I can put our keeper to sleep with it.

You'd think such things would be illegal... they sure as heck were in school. But, my agent had told me that these were the things people loved to see, and were therefore legalized. That was why the number of alternative string keepers was so high. The Veelas had seven keepers; each one was ready to fly in the second their keeper was knocked out.

The rest of the staring line-up had been announced before I could even believe it. Here it was... it was go time. The Necromancers, who had been practicing taking shots upon their Keeper, now fell into formation, speeding toward the center of the arena. They were dressed in golden uniforms, with black trimming and pads. Their home outfits were much more impressive... solid black with gold, however, away games called for the secondary color to become the main one. Mitchell, our keeper, flew to half court to smack armguards with the Necromancer keeper, before they took their positions. Beaters customarily did not partake in any sort of gentleman/woman behavior before the game, for in truth, to be a good beater, you had to feel nothing but contempt for those people you were literally trying to kill. They would do all the sentimental handclaps and such AFTER the game... a?ter they tried to kill ya.

The two seekers, Rodney McFain and Draco Malfoy shook hands above the rest of us and already began their quest for the snitch, even before blast off.

And so, our line of seven chasers circled the center of the arena, pairing off. Alexis amplified her voice, calling out commands. She was the Chaser captain, and when Coach Little wasn't screaming to her, she was screaming at them. The dwarf could be seen in the coach's box, yelling at the top of his lungs and jumping up and down.

"Mark up, Mark up! Rookie, cover 27! Don't let him get a shot off at Mitchell. He's got a poison shot that'll have him babbling in Russian for the next two weeks!" yelled Alexis.

I turned my head nervously to 27... a fearsome looking giant named Quad Marvolo, another guy I used to watch when I was younger to learn technique. How he could even move on a broom boggled my mind, for he weighed nearly one and a half times what I did. Yet, there was no doubt in his mind, Quad was fast, or he wouldn't be here. I'd have to use technique and skill to counter the sheer mass of this mark.

"Got it!" I yelled and zoomed over to his side. The titanic man stared down at me like he was looking down at a flea. God, this couldn't have been a worse of a mismatch. All fourteen chasers from each time now surrounded the middle of the arena, drifting and waiting for the two centers to retrieve the snap and flip it to their companions.

The large man extended his armpad to me, though his stare was simply demoralizing. "You really think you can match me, Rookie?"

I hit my armpad against his... desiring not to get in his bad graces my first game. "I'll try... been watching you since I was in kiddy school. I think I got your moves down." I wasn't really that scared. I knew I could outfly this guy. Besides, when I got the Quaffle, I was going right up to the rafters. I couldn't see Quad fitting up there.

"Heh... good luck, kid... hope your momma recognizes ya after this game," snorted Quad, tensing up as the moment of blast off was about to begin.

From the ceiling, in the center, a large cube shimmered into existence as the Techiwizards cast a spell to create the large overhead that would be keeping track of points, as well as showing zoom-ins upon each individual player.

I narrowed my eyes, and finally my cocky attitude overcame all the fear I had. "Maybe not, but yours will..."

The man turned his head, an expression of rage on his face, but further retort was suddenly ended as the blast of a cannon shot echoed all across the arena.

"BLAST OFF!" yelled Daniel Tate, the commentator.

Alexis and the center chaser for the Necromancers became a blur as the both sped forward, diving at sonic speeds. From the pool beneath them, a small pillar of water shot up, the quaffle riding on top of it. Without a scuffle, Alexis became the clear dominator, snatching the red ball and soaring down to the water level, speeding as fast as she could into Necromancer territory.

"See ya!" I yelled, peeling off of my mark and zooming after her, thirty feet above. Several more cannon shots, about six, sounded as the Bludgers were released into the air, leaping out of the water with programmed fury. Alexis swerved to the right to avoid one that erupted from the water right next to her, spraying her with water; she wa? agile enough to escape with her head.

"Chaser Martinez drives the Quaffle low, kicking up water as she goes. She was way ahead of Deans on that blast off!" the commentator spoke, his voice moving at about a mile a minute.

One of the opposing beaters that Little had warned about swerved into perfect alignment with one of the Bludgers and prepared to send it careening into Alexis with a massive swing. Mug, however, had his way first, stopping himself in between Alexis and the bludger with amazing precision. With a swing of his own massive bat, he deflected the bludger right back at original beater. The man was not fast enough to avoid taking it in the chest.

To my total shock, the man took the hit stoically, grunting and then slamming his chest with his free hand to show that it did not hurt. I knew these guys were tough, but I'd be out for the count if that had hit me! The not-so injured proceeded then to throw himself into the path of Alexis, who swerved to the side with eagle-like reflexes, narrowly missing him.

It was orderly pandemonium, as thirty brooms all zoomed two and fro, all with specific purposes... myself, Alexis and David Waines were the offense, while two more chasers stayed in the midfield. Each of them were passing experts and could hit a fly off the wall from one hundred feet away, I kid you not. Behind them were two more chasers, players who were powerfully built and served as defenders, who tried to clear the Quaffle out to our midfielders.

While Quad was unable to mark me, I was quickly taken up by one of the defensive players, a man only slightly smaller than me.

Alexis took the Quaffle up into the air, looking to me. She was going to pass it to me, I knew it. Seeing her intension, I threw all my weight on the broom handle, spiraling down and evading my defender, in an attempt to get open. It worked, for the defender was on my wake, not in front of me.

And Alexis was quick to take advantage of it. Just before she was slammed by the other chaser, she released the ball with a powerful one-armed throw, the pass to me was just perfect. I snatched it with one hand, flipped over as I let the ball's momentum carry me, and brought it deftly into my chest to prevent a fumble.

"Martinez to Halbend! What a pass! What a snag!"

My first possession in the professional league... I thought, as I clung to my broom with my free arm and legs to prevent from falling off as I righted myself. I wished it could have never end, of course, in hindsight, I wish it never had happened to begin with.

"Welcome to the AQL, rookie!" snarled the familiar voice of Quad, who apparently wasn't as far behind me as I thought.

First, I felt it on my back, and then on both my sides. And then, I felt as though my body just spontaneously exploded. The defender I had just evaded, as well as a beater I had not even seen slammed me from above, while Quad plowed through me with all of his forward momentum he could muster, crushing me like a tin can.

"Oh my... what a hit!" I heard the announcer shouting... though, I was too lost in my downward spiral to understand much of what he was saying at the time. "Broadband, Marvolo and Sueki crush Rookie Halbend in the dreaded Necromancer Ritual. Call the coroner, I don't think that Veela is going to be home for the holidays!"

My first impulse was that maybe I hadn't dropped the quaffle yet, so I tr?ed to pass it off to Waines. It was a good attempt, though there were three big problems. One, I had already fumbled the Quaffle, and two, my arm was broken... and three, everyone seemed to look exactly the same, since I couldn't see anything but blurs.

Well, and a distant forth... Space between me and the water below had run out. I slapped down into the pool, suddenly made more alert by the fact I was underwater. I wasn't really thinking too much at the time, but I remembered that I really wasn't a good swimmer.

Then, powerful clamps attached themselves to my arms, and before I knew it, I was back above water. I still only saw blurs, but now at least, I was on my back in a very soft stretcher. What was I doing there? I decided I was going to have a bit of a nap.

SLAP!

My eyes fluttered open as someone's hand struck me hard across the face. I thought I had died and gone to hell... for the face of Satan was before me, screaming and spitting all over my face. But, no, it wasn't Satan. As I blinked a few more times and the blurs began to go away, I saw that it was Coach Little, flanked by two of the team mediwizards.

"What the 'ell were ye thinking, staying stationary while making a catch! That be a stupid rookie mistake!" screamed the dwarf, his red beard now stained with spittle. I was still only a foot off of the arena floor, suspended in the air by a magical stretcher. The coach's box had floated over to me, so the dwarf could scream more efficiently. "Ye cost us ten points!"

I groaned, but I was not given a chance to repent as my Firebolt X2 was slapped into my chest by one of the mediwizards.

"Get back in there and start usin' your head... ye know, that lump three feet above your arse!" shouted the coach.

I grabbed it with my formerly broken arm, which was now fixed. In fact, I didn't really feel sore anywhere, save in my head, where things were still functioning in slow motion. These mediwizards were worth their talent in gold. My own drive took over and without a word, I leapt off the stretcher, into the water. After surfacing, I shoved my broom between my legs and blasted out of the water like a shooting rocket.

"And Halbend is back, though the damage has been done. The Necromancers lead 10 to 0, after Marvolo recovered the fumble and passed it up to Myers for a goal on Keeper Mitchel."

For the time being, the defense was working the Quaffle back up to us, so I had a chance to take a breather. Alexis zoomed up to me, while we waited.

"You alright?" she shouted, over the crowd, raising her arm.

I nodded, finding my own excitement building up once again. "Don't ask me to count to ten, but I'm not leavin' yet!" I slapped my armguard into her's.

. "Mark up on that shithead, and give some of it back!" ordered Alexis as she peeled off, driving back toward midfield.

"You got it!" I yelled back, though my voice was lost in the crowd. I quickly marked Quad throughout the blurs and movement. He was near midfield, dashing forward into Veela territory. Doing the only thing I could do, I leaned forward, urging my broom to speeds that'd clock over ninety miles per hour. The sheer force of the wind in my face was painful enough at that speed.

I barrel-rolled once, narrowly avoiding a bludger hit at me by one of the mi?field Beaters that would have probably ended my life. Most professional players did not use the Firebolt X2, as it was simply just too fast. Flying at the speeds it was capable of was far too dangerous, but I was like my old man; I only played one way... dangerous.

But, I was able to reap the rewards as I closed within Quad. One of his arms was stretched forward as he sped, just ten feet ahead of me. It was clear to me he was anticipating a pass from the Necromancer center.

Urging my broom to maximum velocity and lurching over a midfielder attempting to pick me off, I dove down, using my slightly increased altitude to break one-hundred miles per hour. By sheer force of will, I slipped my hand in the way.

"Waitskin to Marv... INTERCEPTION BY HALBEND! And the crowd goes wild!"

I'm glad he told me, cause I was deafened already for the most part. I did not realize much difference in the volume of the crowd. Tucking in, I allowed the momentum of the Quaffle to roll me over again, passing directly beneath Quad.

This time learning from my mistake, I kept moving, slamming the ball into my chest in a protective embrace. I pulled a one-eighty, looping around two Necromancer chasers, who proceeded to chew on my wake.

"Halbend in possession, driving out of Veela Territory."

"You're mine, kid!" yelled one of the midfield beaters, who zipped into the path of a bludger. He didn't get a chance to pummel me, however, for he was stiff-armed by Caroline clear off his broom and sent plummeting down to the water below.

"You're clear, rookie!" yelled Caroline, giving me a quick thumbs up.

I couldn't keep my eyes off the keeper, lurking beyond two more chasers that were about to give me hell. I suppose that was how I approached most of my problems. I didn't look at the present situation, but I set my eyes to my goal. My goal was to score on that Keeper, and not let anyone stop me.

I steered to the right; I wanted the defenders to think I was going right. My bluff worked on one of them, who glided to the right in an attempt to stop me from scoring. One of my best talents, however, was flying. I jerked my handle to the left and threw my entire body upon my broomstick. That's a common defensive tactic, allowing you to fit though even the smallest of openings. The only problem with that is you can't see where you are going while you are in that tucked, heads-down position.

I cleared one chaser with ease, but slammed sidelong into the second, nearly forfeiting my hold upon my broom. But, I held tight and recovered, while the other guy took the majority of the pain from that impact.

Sitting back up, I saw the Keeper flying out to meet in, in a desperate attempt to cut off my angle. One of the hardest things to learn as a chaser is how to meditate without ever closing your eyes. My old man used to always say that a Seeker didn't need concentration... he needed eyesight and a fast broom. Chasers, however, needed the focus of a Zen monk in order to catch passes regularly and shoot goals.

I could not slow down to take a careful shot... Quad was no doubt right on my tail. The voice of my old man entered my head at that moment.

"You think you can nail a Circle Shot? Toss the ball ten feet in the air, directly in front of you... you need to buy yourself a second or two."

I did just that, releasing the ball from my hand, tossing it in a strange sort of pass to myself.

"Knot your legs against the broom. If you don't got a grip like an octopus, you'll slide right off the broom. Pull up on the handle with all you got and lean back... pretend like you are falling off!"

The world turned upside down as I pulled up and leaned back, flipping my broom vertical, and in the process, crippling the brooms magical forward momentum. I felt myself beginning to fall as the broom continued flipping backwards.

"Now, feel the ball... feel its location... and use your broom's magic!"

And so I did it, driving my broom forward, just as dad taught me. The head of the broom shot the rest of the way, leveling itself off parallel to the ground... and in the process, slamming the Quaffle with amazing force. The Keeper probably didn't think a rookie straight out of Wizarding School had learned a Circle Shot, and that was the reason why he had closed in. Heh, he just didn't understand how serious my old man took Quidditch. Now, I'm sure he'd regret it, for the Quaffle took him in the chest, driving him through the largest ring, clear off his broom, spiraling down to the water below.

"THE VEELAS SCORE! What a shot by Rookie Chaser Halbend!"

I righted myself, zooming away from the Quidditch pitch, feeling like a million galleons. That, truly, was one moment I didn't want to end. My first score in the professional league... only now did I feel like I really belonged there, battling among my childhood heroes like an equal and not as a privileged fan.

Alexis slapped me five as she zoomed by, followed by Waines on my other side. I was simply thrilled, but the game did not stop on my account. The Necromancer Keeper flashed me a stare full of daggers. He was dripping wet from the water, and angry. He launched the quaffle out to his defenders.

The next few plays were a blur to me, but the Necromancers didn't seem to want to let us take their lead without a fight. They fought back... Quad and his friends nearly hit me with another Ritual, though I was ready for it this time and dodged the three larger guys by rolling under them. Once clear, I launched the Quaffle to Alexis, who was wide open for the shot.

Even still, their more experienced and aggressive chasers were just outplaying our defense. Before I even realized it, the score was 90 to 140; we were down by fifty. That was the interesting part of Quidditch, I realized. The score could build up so quickly that it made your head spin. A mere twenty minutes had passed, and already, so many goals had been scored. Given that I could speed my way across the arena in just under ten seconds, it was understandable how the score got so high so quickly.

Just then, a streak of gold flashed across my face so fast that I thought for a minute I had some dust in my eye. But, when Rodney practically bowled me over in a furious tear, racing after it, I realized it was the snitch.

"Out of my way!" shouted someone from my flank in a British accent. Pain suddenly exploded from my head as I caught the flat end of the boy's elbow, slamming me aside.

"AND IT'S THE FIRST SIGHTING OF THE SNITCH, with Seeker McFain out front, but followed very closely by Seeker Malfoy!"

I watched him fly after Rodney, but could not help but smile as ? rubbed the side of my head. I had been hurt much worse in the past and the damage had been done to him just as well. The Necromancer seeker was now a few broom lengths behind Rodney, due to my lucky positioning.

Sometimes, I wish I had it in me to be a seeker. God, the feeling of having all eyes on me while speeding after a single goal, a goal that holds the weight of an entire teams' hard work; it's gotta be a power trip. And the silence was astounding. The crowd had fallen into a hushed state, watching the two seekers take to the steel rafters up above...

"And ooh NO!" gasped the commentator, as my eyes widened with horror. I couldn't believe what I just saw, but the commentator verified it, in case my eyes had tricked me.

"And Rodney McFain catches a bludger in the side of the head and is thrown off his broom! The way is all clear for Seeker Malfoy, so long as he can keep his head in the rafters!"

The crowd had fallen into shock and stillness... Rodney would be back on the field in a minute or two, but for that minute or two, the Necromancer seeker was alone, and the snitch was in his sights. The Necromancers were hoping to win the game as soon as possible, not caring how many points they earned, so long as they won. That seeker would not be trying to delay the game.

"Caroline! Mug!" yelled Alexis over the hushed crowd, who zipped past me, a rush of wind hitting me in the face as she passed. The two forward beaters sped for her, orbiting her as she gave orders. "See if you can give the Necro Seeker a bit of company in there!"

"You got it!" pronounced Caroline as both of the beaters sped toward the ceiling, where I could spot the two seekers every so often, weaving in between the rafters.

"Rookie, how's your Sleep Shot?" continued Alexis, turning to me.

"It's alright," I admitted with a bit of flush. I couldn't bring myself to lie to her, I could only focus the magic without a wand once in a while.

"Think you can bean the Seeker with one, if I set you up with the Quaffle?"

What was she asking me to do? It was wrong to use the Quaffle as a weapon against a Seeker, just as a beater could not use the bludger against a Keeper. I swallowed nervously.

"Isn't that illegal?" I asked, with dismay. I knew the answer, but I didn't feel right telling her 'no' right to her face.

She shook her head. "No... it's just against the rules. They'll get a penalty shot, possibly hit it, and their first string Seeker will be out for the game... especially if he looses consciousness up in those rafters."

I sighed. I really didn't want to cheat in my first game ever. Even still, my old man always used to tell me exactly what rules I would be smart to break and when, and his voice was agreeing with Alexis. If it came to loosing the game, or knocking out their Seeker, the choice was clear.

I glanced over at the quaffle, which was in the hands of one of the Veela defensive women. I then looked up to the rafters and saw that the speck of gold had shot down, followed by the enemy seeker in a straight dive, the snitch practically within arms reach. He was now out of structural danger.

Mug and Caroline fell into formation with the Seeker, attempting to knock him from his broom with a few well-placed swings of their bats, to my shock.?They were clearly trying to take shots at him and bash his head in... however, they just could not get close enough to him. Anticipating our play, about five or six chasers and beaters had fallen into defensive positions around the English Seeker, neglecting their former duties to defend him against the fowls.

I looked back to Alexis and nodded firmly. Putting my will to the stick, I jetted forward to half-field and proceeded to call for the Quaffle. Quad, my mark, was currently protecting his seeker, so I was wide open. It was indeed passed to me quickly, as the defensive woman saw my plan. I snatched the quaffle with both hands and cradled it. I was completely neglected, for the real battle seemed to ensue around the Seeker. As Veela after Veela attempted to throw themselves into the way of the Seeker, they were repelled by either a well hit bludger or a kamikaze Necro chaser, that sent them both plummeting out of the play.

"Try this on for size," I whispered to myself as I sped forward, setting myself up into a good intercept position. I closed my eyes for just a moment, unsure of my own abilities. I may have been skilled at non-magical feats like trick shots, but I really did need to harness my supreme focus for this. "Tranquilitis..." I whispered. As if answering my spell with a 'yes', my hand glimmered faintly. That glow seeped into the Quaffle, like it were a sponge absorbing my spell. This was the first time using the Sleeper Shot under pressure, and I was amazed at how efficiently I had imbued the Quaffle with the spell.

It was the moment of truth... the Seeker was now within a hand's width from the snitch, speeding right for me and guarded closely by a shield of teammates. The seeker, focusing so hard on the snitch, was completely oblivious to me, as were his defenders, who were busy warding off an equal number of Veela chasers and beaters.

"Erraugh!" I yelled, preparing to toss the Quaffle into the air. Unlike before, I could not perform a circle shot, as I was not moving forward, but hovering quite stationary. Now, it was time for a Spin Shot, another shot I should not have learned by now, and a courtesy of my old man, who had me practicing these for three summers straight.

"With your right hand, toss the Quaffle about five feet into the air, about a foot higher than head level."

I complied, hearing dad coach me from the back of my head.

"When it reaches its zenith, pull with all your might to your might to the right, and lean off the top of your broom to your left. Feel the ball and know where it is... when you are about to hit, will your broom to move forward."

As simple as clockwork, I leaned to the left, which shot my broom's rear right into the falling quaffle. Just before I hit, I sped forward, my broom finishing its spin with a powerful slam. The Quaffle rocketed forward, aimed true for the Seeker's head. One chaser saw the shot and attempted to throw himself into the way of it, but he was just not fast enough.

SLAM!

My quaffle struck the head of the seeker, and that was all she wrote. He slipped off his broom, plummeting to the pool below, in a deep sleep thanks to my spell. Pride has an amazing way of just breaking through, even when you feel you did something wrong, as long as what you did was DIFFICULT! Even if assaulting the Seeker was against the rules, I couldn't help but feel elated.

The similar aged boy splashed into the water below, much to my satisfaction, and the Necro?ancer Mediwizards were flying to him seconds later. The whistles were blowing all around the arena, demanding play to stop. A referee, who had been wearing an invisibility cloak up to this point, had removed it and was now preparing to give their offensive chasers a penalty shot.

And suddenly, four words entered my ears and went straight to my stomach, making me ill.

"He's got the Snitch!" proclaimed one of the Mediwizard's down below, who was holding up one of the sleeping seeker's clenched hands. Sure enough, a glimmer of gold could be seen escaping his fingers and driving home a spike of shame into my chest.

You can imagine how that felt... I cheated and still, I didn't win. God, it's kinda shameful when you see it that way isn't it? I could only picture the face my old man was wearing now... somewhere out in the crowd. Of all the techniques he had taught me, all the time he had invested into me... my true game came down to a cheap shot, and even that had failed.

I sat there, hovering in place, while the Necromancers cheered and held up their Seeker, having claimed a 290 to 90 victory over us. Their seeker was just coming to, but I could see that he was not celebrating. I had stolen a noble victory from him and I knew his thoughts, those emotions behind his eyes. He had won the game by luck... he happened to fall forward and grasp the snitch before falling unconscious. Spiraling to the ground unconscious was hardly a dignified way to win. I had robbed him of the emotion that even Rodney loved to experience... the first touch of ones fingers closing around victory.

I hope I didn't make an enemy out of him by denying him that.

* * * * * *

"Rookie!" screamed Coach Little, stamping up and down like an infuriated toddler denied a lollypop. "What were ye thinkin'?!"

I lowered my head, unable to look the dwarf in the face. As if it wasn't bad enough to be seen cheating by the entire world... Coach had to give it to me like this too. After the game, and before I could hit the showers, the coach and grabbed my ear and pulled me into his office.

"Ye don't need to pull a Spin Shot fer a Sleeper Shot to have an effect!" barked the coach. "Ye blitz the bastard head on, break a few bones in both o' ya... and slam the Quaffle into 'is 'ead if ye gotta! Injuries don't be matterin so long as ye don't die before the Mediwizards get to ya! They can heal a fatal skull fracture n' 'ave ye back out in two minutes! Ye wasted just enough time ta loose us the game!"

"But..." I trailed off with disbelief. That was ridiculous! It would go beyond the simple ruling of interfering with the Seeker... that would be assault on the Seeker, and get me thrown out of the game!

"Ye'd get yer arse tossed, n' I'd replace ye with a second string... and we woulda still be playin now, with McFain back on the field, ye dense, irritatin rookie!"

"But, I want to play and win without cheating!" I yelled back, my own ego getting the best of me.

Coach Little pushed my chin up with a painful slap. The dwarf was about taciturn as a branded bull with its balls in a vice. "Yer type don't last long in the AQL," he sneered, as my eyes began to water up at the shameful hit. "Lemme guess... pureblooded wizardin family, raised by good olde sumaritans. Ye were castrated from n' early age to say no to Dark Arts, drugs and sex, weren't ye? I betcha yer still a virgin too..? ain't ya? Still... waitin fer marriage, nancy boy?"

I bit my lip and said nothing, but I think he got his answer by looking ay my red cheeks and ears.

"That's what I thought," snapped the dwarf. "Well, girl, however short yer stay in this league will be... yer team name will be Virginia, til ye pop that cherry of yers. Ye will learn to cheat; ye will learn to love it... er ye'll pack yer damn bags. I don't give a shite either way!"

My breath came to me in brief, infuriated gasps.

"Now, yer warmin the bench til ye get laid," demanded Little. "If yer gonna have a chance in the AQL, ye gotta take yer mum and pop's noble teachins n' throw them out the window!"

I had not noticed it but my eyes had watered up under the pressure placed on me. What ever happened to the glory of the game? What ever happened to integrity and fair play? Did those simply not exist, anymore?

"Cry... cry... cry..." sneered the dwarf. "Get out o' me damn office. Yer water ain't gonna stain my beautiful floors."

I whirled around, unable to keep my emotions inside anymore. Never had I been spoken to like that. It was sort of like getting your balloon burst by a dragon's bite and being force to clean up after it. I raced out of the office, through the locker room, not bothering to shower or change. I rushed out, never feeling more like I kid that ran away from home. Outside the locker-room, at the end of the terminal leading out to the streets of Las Vegas, a sight confronted me.

At least twelve young witches and wizards were crowded around the arena exits, talking and giggling wildly. Upon seeing me, they gasped and rushed over, each holding a Quaffle and a quill, falling over themselves to get to me first.

"Can you sign my Quaffle?"

"Can I have your autograph?"

"Can I take a picture with you?"

I just wanted to rush passed them, push them aside, and be alone with my misery. Is this really what I was like? Did I chase after cheaters and lowlives, asking them for their autograph. Was I this annoying, not caring how the player might have felt to get hounded by a bunch of kids he didn't even know?

"Get..." I began, about to push them aside, hoping they didn't see the tears in my eyes. However, a disarming hand was laid upon my shoulder. I turned about slowly to see Alexis behind me, smiling with a strange sort of sympathy. She was still dressed in Quidditch robes and must have followed me out, seeing me leave so abruptly. She probably wanted to beat me over the head as well for not cheating efficiently enough.

"Of course you can have our autographs," she said kindly to the kids, who had gasped with astonishment upon seeing the Team Center join them. She promptly began to take the quills and sign anything she was handed by the twelve or so boys and girls. She then made it a point to pass the quills and memorabilia to me. Sighing and giving in, I began to autograph as well.

Resolve has a strange way of being thrown to the wind on certain occasions, I realized. Upon signing the first autograph with a quick, careless hand, and practically shoving the Quaffle back into the eleven-year-old boy's chest, I saw the expression of pure gratitude on his face. Bright blue eyes looked with reverence on me, experiencing a strange sort of euphoria that I had k?own all too well when a player I loved signed my Quaffle.

"That was a wicked Circle Shot!" the boy exclaimed. "I'm trying to learn one; I've almost got it down!"

And I laughed, the encounter with Coach Little being pushed back into my mind. Oh, how I knew about those little lies... I used to say them all the time to the players of my dream. Heck, I think I even told Quad Marvolo that lie once, when I was eleven and he signed my quaffle.

Perhaps in seven years, this bright-eyed boy would steal a pass intended for me and drive it down for a score. I wonder if that thought had crossed Quad's mind when he handed me back that ball, seven years ago, with his autograph signed carefully upon the surface.

And I signed the rest of the autographs quite carefully and even smiled when a young girl wanted her picture taken with Alexis and me. For five minutes of my time, I made the day... and maybe even week... for these twelve kids. Maybe that was what being a Quidditch player was all about.

I drew my wand at last, after the kids were gone. "I'm Apparating home," I said, my shame returning upon seeing Alexis' smile melt away.

Alexis, again, put her hand on my shoulder. "Look, don't take what Coach Little says personally."

I frowned and lowered my head. "So, you were listening?"

Alexis nodded and continued. "He has led this team to the Final Four more times than he hasn't. Most of all, he is a master at reading people; most dwarfs are. The number of times he has started rookies on his front line can be counted on one hand. He believes in you and wants to make you into an All-Star."

"But..." I stammered, unable to keep the shame off of my tongue. "What about..."

Alexis smiled thinly. "He's dead serious... but, unfortunately, I can't help you there." She then winked playfully. "But, if you want, you can keep working on it."

Yeah, I guess I had set myself up for that one. Alexis reminded me of one of my old friends from House Water back at Castagloria: Flirtatious, pretty, and not afraid to tell you exactly where you stand.

"Well... what am I supposed to do?"

Alexis laughed cheerily. "If you have to ask, you need a lot of help. He wants to you hit the Muggle casinos... he wants you to see the town... he wants you to get comfortable! He wants you to accept my invitation to hang out with the team when we aren't practicing... he doesn't really care if you've had sex or not. He just cares that you find your niche and grow to like the people and the city you represent."

I was glad Alexis had pulled me aside to tell me all this. I don't think I could read anyone well enough to learn this on my own.

"Go home, forget about tonight... and meet us tomorrow for lunch in Caesar's Palace. We'll show you around, sign some autographs in the Wizard's Only section. We are going to New England this weekend to play the Evokers. They got the best Keeper in the league, so we will have to work on your Sleeper Shot."

I nodded, feeling better at last. We stared into each other's eyes for an awkward moment or to, before I eventually nodded and waved my wand. "Apparate!"

* * * * * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. This was sort of a self-challenge to write a story based in the Harry Potter world in the first person without any of the Canon characters playing a major role. I felt like giving Draco a cameo appearance, since I think he had a good reason to be there. No sequel is planned, but if this is well liked, I'll consider writing another.