Throughout the years, Hogwarts has become home to many a witch and wizard. For one student, Maximus Brankovitch IV, it has become just another step in his father’s grand scheme. The son of the American National Quidditch team captain, Junior (as he is referred) has some high expectations to live up to. His father, who won the U.S. Cup seven times for the Fitchburg Finches, and holds the American record for most consecutive Snitch catches in a season, dreams of he and his son being the first father-son duo in the last century to play on a national Quidditch team.
From the day he was born, Maximus had been grooming his son for Quidditch greatness. Junior was on a broom before he could walk, and was doing barrel rolls while other kids where still learning their A-B-C’s. Quidditch was in his blood, and nothing would make his father happier than if they were able to bring home America’s first ever Quidditch World Cup.
Junior, on the other hand, had less lofty ambitions. Although nothing made him happier than when he was flying on a broom, he found no joy in playing Quidditch. It was not a game to him because it was not a game to his father. Quidditch for him meant hard work… it was a job. This had become a sticking point between him and his father. Junior was not ready to commit his life to Quidditch as his father had.
If you asked Junior, he would say that he was an average flyer. He was hardly worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as his father, but, in reality, he could have had his pick of any wizarding school in the United States; every one of them eager to get him on their Quidditch team. Maximus however, had other plans for his son-prodigy. That is why Junior was on his way to Hogwarts. Yes, Maximus wanted his son to go to a top Quidditch School, but he was also looking to build his son’s a pedigree. Hogwarts was able to fill both these needs. “Any school that is good enough for Harry Potter is good enough for my son!” Maximus would boast to his teammates. So, this was Junior’s next stop while on his journey to the American National Team.
Being the son of a famous Quidditch player made growing up very hard for Junior. When the news broke that he was transferring to Hogwarts in his third year of Wizarding School, the press swarmed him everywhere he went. After a while, Junior had become fed up with the constant bombardment of questions.
Junior had been wallowing in a gloomy funk the summer leading to his transfer to Hogwarts. He was packing his trunk when his father came into his room for one of his “Pep Talks.”
“Son…” bellowed Maximus as if officiating over a team meeting. “I want you know that you mother and I are very proud of you. This is a big step in our plan.”
“And what plan would that be dad?” Junior sneered.
“You know, our plan…?” Maximus said, oblivious to Junior’s cynicism. “Junior, we’ve talked about this. You’ll spend a few years at Hogwarts, then once you turn fifteen, you can come back for the National team tryouts,” Maximus said matter of factly. “I would have preferred you to try out sooner, but you’re mother wants you to get an education.”
“Dad, Have you ever considered that maybe there may be something out there for me other than Quidditch?”
“What are you talking about son?” Maximus said quizzically. “You are the most natural flyer I have ever seen. I should know, I’ve seen them all. Trust me, if you stick to our plan, you’ll be a shoe-in to make the team.”
“That’s just the thing dad!” Junior exploded. “It isn’t OUR plan… it’s YOUR plan!”
“Don’t you raise your voice with me!” Maximus said aggressively while towering over Junior. “A lot of kids your age would kill for the talent and opportunities that you have! That Krum kid on the Bulgarian team doesn’t have a tenth of the skill you have on a broom!”
“Dad, you’re not listening to me””
“Son.” Maximus placed his hands on his son’s shoulders and squatted down a little so that he faced his son eye to eye. “I know that you’ve had self-esteem issues, but trust me when I say that you are good. With you on the team, we’re guaranteed to be in the running for the World Cup.”
Junior reached up and forcibly removed his father’s hands from his shoulders. “That’s all that you care about! That--that damn CUP! I’m you’re son, not a means to an end!”
“Now, look here son!”
“No DAD, you look here! I’m not one of your players. I’m your son!” Junior shouted. “NO! I will not go to the tryouts. I HATE Quidditch! Unlike you, I don’t give a damn about that stupid Cup, and I’m not going to Hogwarts!”
“Your mother and I paid a small fortune to get you into that school! YOU WILL be attending Hogwarts this year, YOU WILL apply yourself to your studies, YOU WILL continue your Quidditch training while you are there, and YOU WILL be at the national team tryouts when you turn fifteen!”
Maximus looked down at his son who was shooting him a hateful look at him through tear streaked eyes. “Finish up packing, we’ll be leaving in thirty minutes Son,” said Maximus before leaving the room. ‘So it was that Junior did indeed go to Hogwarts…
Much to the chagrin of his father, when Junior arrived at Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat put Junior into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. All that Junior cared about however, was that because he was a third year at the time of his transfer, he was the only one his age sitting before all the other students in the Great Hall being sorted with the first years. Junior towered above the younger students as they were led into the Great Hall to be sorted, and he could feel every eye in the room on him. Mercifully, Professor McGonagall called him first to be sorted before she started to list off the first years.
Roger Davies, however, was not complaining. Junior didn’t even have to show up at try-outs. He didn’t even have to sign up. His Quidditch uniform was waiting for him on his bed by the time he got to the dormitories. Davies was sure that, with Junior playing Chaser, Ravenclaw was sure to be in the running for the House Cup.
Although the Ravenclaw House welcomed him with open arms, Junior had a difficult time fitting in. He found it difficult to follow conversations because words like “git”, and “wotcher” often threw him for a loop. He often wondered why it was that if the English language was invented there why was it that no one in the country was speaking it.
Having attended school for two years now, Junior had fully intergraded himself into Hogwarts life. Unlike in the United States, no one cared that he was the son of the great Maximus Brankovitch III. Here at Hogwarts, he was just another student. Harry Potter was the big celebrity on campus and Junior was happy to let him have all the fame for himself. Another thing that Junior found that appealed to him was that, although he didn’t like the idea of going to school in the United Kingdom at first, he found that being away from the constant plans of his father was a great weight lifted from his shoulders. He even found himself enjoying Quidditch again.
Unfortunately however, Roger’s plans were not going as he had expected. Although no one on the pitch could touch Junior, they were no closer to the House Cup than they were before Junior transferred to Hogwarts. This season wasn’t looking any better, as they had lost to Slytherin in their opening game. They were now getting ready to play against Gyiffindor. This was a must-win match. If they lost, they would be out of the running for the Cup.
It was a hard week of practice. Roger proved to be just as much a taskmaster as Junior’s father. This greatly effected Junior’s play on the pitch. After a dismal practice where he had the Quaffle stolen from him six times, and had failed to score a single goal, Junior’s confidence was severely lacking. The fact that Roger chewed him out in front of the whole team didn’t help either.
When Junior got back to the Ravenclaw common room he plopped in his favorite chair, wallowing in a dreary funk. This was not an uncommon sight for the Ravenclaws. After blowing up on a first year that made the mistake of asking if he could get his father’s autograph, everyone knew well enough to leave him alone whenever Junior got like this. On this occasion, however, Junior was not going to be able to wallow alone; as Ravenclaw seeker Cho Chang hesitantly sat down beside him.
“How are you doing Junior?”
“How do you think I am?” Junior snapped.
“Don’t mind Roger.” Cho adjusted herself in her seat. “He’s just on edge because he doesn’t want to finish in last place like the year before.”
“No, he’s right! I suck!”
“Why are you always down on yourself Junior? You’re the best flyer on the team, maybe even the school. If you wanted to, you could probably play Seeker.”
“What?!” Junior almost shouted at the thought that anyone would even suggest that he play the same position as his father. Almost as if he felt that he was unworthy of such an honor. “N-No, that’s your spot Cho.” Junior stammered.
“Junior, I’ve seen you play. You are SO good! When you are on, no one can touch you. We would have won that last game if I had only been able to catch the Snitch.”
“No!” said Junior, “If I had been able to score just two more goals, then it wouldn’t have mattered if you caught the Snitch or not.”
“I don’t get it. Why are you so full of self-loathing? Junior, it’s a game… Games are meant to be fun. When you are out there, it’s as if you are flying against a ghost.”
“I’m not flying against a ghost, I’m flying against myself!” exclaimed Junior. “Or at least the person everyone expects me to be.”
“Junior,” Cho said as she rose from her seat, “no one here expects you to be anyone but yourself.” That said; Cho gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder before heading to her dorm room.
The week leading up to the Gryffindor match was a long one. The match was fast approaching. Practices compounded with the mound of homework from classes made for a backbreaking week for the Ravenclaw team members. This was no different for Junior. He was doing better at Quidditch practice, but Junior found it difficult to concentrate on his studies. He kept finding himself pondering what Cho had said to him earlier that week. “Was she right?” he wondered. “Is the only person holding me back myself?”
This question weighed heavily on Junior’s mind up until the final whistle blew that signaled the end of the match. Harry Potter on his new Firebolt broom had caught the golden snitch right in front of the Ravenclaw goal.
“What a load of codswallop!” exclaimed Roger upon landing with his teammates. “I can’t believe that Madam Hooch let Potter use that broom during the match. HOW IS THAT FAIR?” bellowed Roger who looked like he was ready to break his broom over his knee.
Junior, who led the team with three goals, was upset about the loss, but not nearly as much as Roger was.
The Ravenclaw team was making the long trek, or at least what seemed to be a long trek to the locker rooms. The locker room was obviously very somber. The only thing that they had to look forward to now was their match against Hufflepuff, which would decide which team would finish in last place.
They could hear the Gryffindor team celebrating in the adjacent locker room.
“Come on, let’s get out of here!” said Roger.
As the team exited their locker room, the celebrating Gryffindors entered the Hall at the same time. Ron, who was backing out of the Gryffindor locker room while leading a cheer, bumped into Roger Davies.
“Hey, watch it, Weasley!” A vicious Davies growled.
Ron turned around to see the Ravenclaw team standing before him in the hallway.
“Oh, don’t be a sore loser Davies!” hollered Fred from behind the group of Gryffindors.
“You’re just lucky that Potter was able to use his Firebolt!” shouted Roger, “That’s the only reason that you won!”
“The Firebolt had nothing to do with it,” chirped Ron. “As slow as your Seeker was flying, Harry could have caught the Snitch using a mop. It was all skill!” This garnered enthusiastic hoots and hollers from the Gryffindors in the hall.
“I think that Potter is nothing without his Firebolt. Even with his Firebolt, Potter wishes that he had the skill on a broom that my man Junior here has,” said Roger as he wrapped his arm around an unsuspecting Junior.
“There is no way that anyone on your team could catch Harry on a broom. Didn’t you see him out there? Or was he moving too fast for you?” jeered Ron, smirking and drawing an audible “Ooooooh” from his fellow Gryffindors.
Junior looked over at Harry who, no doubt, had the exact same confused expression on his face.
“Look, Weasley! Anytime Harry wants to be humiliated by my man Junior here, you just let me know.”
“Humiliated? Harry could fly to Hogsmeade and back by the time Junior even mounted his broom!”
“Is that a challenge Weasley?”
“Yes it is!”
“Alright! Harry vs. Junior!”
Harry and Junior gave each other identical looks as if to say, “What just happened?” The crowd slowly dispersed as Ron and Roger walked off alone to discuss the nature of the challenge. After a few minutes, Harry and Junior were the only two left in the Hall. They looked at each other trying to soak in what had just happened.
“Uh, good match,” said Junior.
“Same to you,” muttered Harry.
The two boys, still very confused, gave each other a shrug, and headed out of the Quidditch stadium back to the school.
An American Tale by NctnlBst
Chapter Notes: As a short explination for this chapter, I was re-reading OotP in anticipation for the upcomming movie this summer, and the thought occured to me why wasn't there any American students at Hogwarts? If Hogwarts really was, as Hagrid put it, "The greatest school for witchcraft and wizardry in the world", then it would be obvious that parents from all over the world would want their children to go there. It wouldn't be the first time that parents send their kids to a boarding school in another country. In fact, I'm convinced that there most likely are American students attending Hogwarts, but they are not mentioned in any of the books. So, I decided to write a fic about an American at Hogwarts.
I had originally intended this to be a oneshot, but once I started writing, it turned out to be pretty long for a oneshot. My beta suggested that I break it up into chapters, so now it is a two-parter.
Many thanks to my Beta Reader spazticapple.