A Star Is Born Chapter 1

Chapter 1

January 1999

“A trade is in!” A large man in gold wizarding robes announced with obvious jubilation.

Whispers swept across the opulent ballroom, a low hum of anticipation that vibrated through the very air. The excitement mounted with each passing second, a palpable energy that crackled around the attendees. All eyes were drawn to a young man, barely out of boyhood, yet forged in the art of war.  A hero to the country, with stunning green eyes that sparkled with an uncontainable excitement. A huge smile, wide and genuine, stretched across his face as the camera lights flashed, momentarily blinding him in their brilliant glare.

Eighteen years old, and feeling on top of the world, Harry Potter sat poised and ready at the prestigious Hyde Park Conference Center. The grandeur of the setting, with its soaring ceilings and intricate architectural details, seemed to mirror the monumental weight of the decision about to be made. He was awaiting the news that would not only decide his future but potentially alter the course of his entire life. The hushed murmurs around him spoke of dreams about to be realized, of destinies unfolding, and of the unique path that awaited him. Each beat of his heart echoed the mounting suspense, a symphony of hope and anxiety that played out in the hushed elegance of the room.

Beside him was his best friend and current sports agent, Ron Weasley, who had just shaken hands with a man that Harry recognized from the combine, and he felt his heart begin to beat faster in hope of what was to come.

“For the first overall draft pick in the 1999 British Quidditch League, the Tutshill Tornados have organized a blockbuster trade with Puddlemere United for the overall #1 pick.  With that pick Puddlemere United Selects, Harry Potter, Seeker!”

An eruption of applause followed the announcement as people gasped, and Puddlemere fans began to chant, “WE GOT POTTER! WE GOT POTTER!”

Harry stood to his feet as he was handed a blue hat with the Puddlemere symbol that held the two crossed golden bulrushes on it.  Harry first hugged his best mate who undoubtedly spent countless hours orchestrating this deal with Puddlemeres front office, and then hugged Hermione who was to Ron’s left.  Next he walked down the long stage path that took him up to a platform where the manager Philbert Deverell was standing with a huge smile on his face and a Jersey that had the #7 and Potter on it.  Harry immediately shook the man’s hand who pulled him into a one armed shoulder bump hug. 

When they separated Harry was handed the jersey and he held it up for the world to see.  Hundreds of flashing cameras erupted across the conference center and Harry just broadly smiled at them all as he turned to shake hands with the Head of Magical Games and Sports with the Ministry, Herbert Fleet.  The young man was only five years Harry’s senior, but had apparently done well in the Ministry to find himself as the Head of a department.

The three posed for a photo, and then Herbert motioned for Harry to carry on as his highlight reel of tryouts and his final years at Hogwarts began projecting in mid air in a pensive style scene.  As Harry exited the stage his closest companion and training partner over the last year was waiting on him with the biggest smile he had seen since they won their first Quidditch Cup together.

“We did it!” Oliver Wood said electrically and the two embraced tightly.

“I can’t believe Tutshill went for it!” Harry exclaimed.  When the two separated Harry asked, “Ron didn’t give me a lot of details.  What’s the score?”

Oliver grinned, “Our first round pick for the next two years, Benjy Williams of course, since we wouldn’t need a starting Seeker with you, and we gave up Wilda Griffiths, the Chaser we just picked up from Holyhead.”

Harry whistled appreciatively, “I can’t believe the front office went for that.”

Oliver just grinned at the boy, “You’re a generational seeker, Harry.  It was well worth it.  We are gonna win this league this year.  We will have to get some defensive power on the board, but just wait, in two more years we will both be playing for England!”

“Let’s win the league first, Captain!” Harry chuckled as the two moved through the backstage area, and into the doors that would lead them to the press.  As soon as the doors opened he was blinded by flashing lights.

.o.

July 1998

Harry’s eyes opened suddenly and his wand flew to his hand with ease as he prepared to fight the monster that had been lurking in his dreams.  He heaved for breath as he expected to be ambushed by Voldemort or his followers, but after a glance around he saw his clock that read 4:27am.

Harry exhaled heavily, the sound echoing in the silence of his room. He wiped his clammy palms against the worn fabric of his sheets, pushing himself up from the bed. The cool morning air did little to dispel the lingering heat that clung to his skin, a chilling reminder of the nightmares that continued to haunt him.

Dropping to the floor, he began a set of push-ups, his muscles straining with the effort. The rhythmic movement, the controlled exertion, offered a temporary respite from the chaos that swirled within his mind. It had been weeks since the final battle, weeks since Voldemort's reign of terror had ended, but for Harry, the war raged on.

Each night, he was transported back to the hallowed grounds of Hogwarts, the screams of his friends and foes echoing in his ears. He could still feel the cold grip of fear, the searing pain of loss, the overwhelming weight of responsibility that had been thrust upon him.

The war had taken its toll on him, leaving scars that ran deeper than any curse or hex. He was haunted by the faces of those he had failed to save, their names etched into his memory. He carried the burden of guilt, the knowledge that his choices had led to their deaths.

Completing his set of push-ups, he pushed himself off the floor and rose to a standing position. His eyes drifted towards the picture frame resting on his nightstand. It held a cherished photograph of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, their faces beaming with joy at the Ministry of Magic. The image captured the moment they were presented with the Order of Merlin, First Class, a prestigious recognition of their extraordinary bravery and pivotal roles in the war.

Their attire was impeccable, reflecting the formality of the occasion. Every detail, from their meticulously tailored robes to their polished shoes, exuded an air of elegance and sophistication. But it was their expressions that truly captivated him. Their smiles were radiant, conveying a profound sense of accomplishment and pride. Standing there together, adorned with their nation's highest award of excellence, they epitomized the spirit of unity and unwavering friendship that had carried them through countless trials and tribulations.  It had been the best day of his life.

Harry grabbed a towel nearby and wiped himself clean of any lingering sweat, and reached for a glass of water he kept at his bedside and swigged it down before moving towards his bathroom.  Looking at himself shirtless in the mirror he knew he needed more sleep.  The first two weeks following the end of the war had been a gift.  They had celebrated the fall of Voldemort, and caught up on some much needed rest in between.  When the hand shaking and ass kissing ended though things went back to normal.  The Ministry had of course been in shambles, and Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken over as Minister to help restore order.  Displaced families were reunited, and peace reigned throughout Wizarding Britain, but Harry wasn’t sure what to do next.

Kingsley had offered Ron, Harry, and Hermione spots in the Auror department without question.  The two would need to be trained on the laws, but their Orders of Merlin were enough in the Minister's books to allow them to skip the Academy and straight to cleaning up the streets.  All three had initially discussed the ideas' merit, but after much discussion all three had declined much to the surprise of Kingsley and the rest of the Order.  Harry had promised the decision was not made lightly, and they were all grateful, but they still needed their affairs to be put back in order before they resumed their lives.  

Ron and Hermione had finally become a couple, and their first priority after receiving their numerous awards was to locate Hermione's parents and bring them back to Britain if they desired. It didn't take them long to find the Grangers, but the reunion was far from the joyous occasion they had anticipated.

Dan and Emma Granger were enraged by Hermione's decision to put them into hiding without their consent. The fact that their memories had been altered and they had been relocated to a different continent without any say in the matter was unforgivable in their eyes. They didn't seem to appreciate the gravity of the situation, the fact that Voldemort, the most dangerous dark wizard in history, could have targeted them. In the end, they decided they needed time and space to determine if they could ever forgive their daughter for her actions.

Hermione was devastated by her parents' reaction but understood their perspective when she returned to Britain. The experience was a stark reminder of the sacrifices she had made during the war and the toll it had taken on her relationships. It was a difficult pill to swallow, but Hermione was determined to move forward and build a life with Ron, hoping that one day her parents would come to terms with her choices and reconcile with her.

Among the many decisions that needed to be made, Harry was grappling with the decision of whether or not to return to Hogwarts and complete his NEWTs. Initially, he had dismissed the idea outright. But as the summer progressed and the deadline for making a choice drew nearer, his resistance wavered. He found himself increasingly unable to give a definitive "no."

The uncertainty stemmed from his lack of a clear vision for his future. He had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, had assured him that his Order of Merlin – the highest award for magical merit – would more than compensate for any academic achievements he might attain at Hogwarts. The only exception, Kingsley had pointed out, was if Harry were to pursue a mastery in Defense Against the Dark Arts. While the subject held some interest for Harry, it wasn't enough to sway him decisively.

Harry had been much more surprised that Hermione had no desire to return.  Ron and Hermione had both agreed after the battle neither wished to return there for day to day life.  Seeing the faces of those they lost walking the hallways would surely haunt them, and they had no desire to allow the past to continue to follow them around.  This had made Harry’s decision to not return a little easier, but still pushed him no closer to what he would do without Voldemort peering over his shoulder.

Putting on a black t-shirt Harry stepped into the living room of his flat and surveyed the area swiftly as if he thought he may be attacked.  He knew it was impossible however.  He had conscripted the skill of Bill and Fleur Weasley to put the wards up on this place, and while they were not impenetrable by any means, no one would get in quietly.

The little flat wasn’t much.  When Ron and Hermione had decided to get their own home, Harry had been quick to sell off Grimmauld Place.  He had no desire to ever return to the ancestral home of the Black family, and the Ogdens of the Wizengamot were quite interested in the property due to the prime area in Islington.  The house had fetched him a significant amount of gold, and when he found this flat in Downtown London on the Thames he couldn’t resist.

The apartment building was owned by a squib family that Arthur Weasley had connected him with.  When they found out the savior of the Wizarding World was in need of a comfortable place to reside they jumped at the opportunity.  Despite being offered ridiculously low rates Harry insisted on paying a fair value, and a deal was easily struck.

Despite the size of the apartment it was certainly comfortable, and the view of the Thames was spectacular.  As he surveyed the little flat Harry felt his heart beat rise at the sight of the photos on the mantle.  Many photos of his friends in the DA and the Order of the Phoenix filled the walls, and even a centerpiece that Andromeda had gifted him sat in the middle of it all.  The centerpiece held well over a dozen small photos on it, and each photo was a happy photo of the fallen.  James and Lily Potter's wedding photo was in the middle, and a photo of Sirius, Remus, and Tonks flanked it.  Harry had choked up over the gift, but was immensely grateful to the woman that was raising his godson.

Exiting his apartment door he waved his hand over the lock securing it with magic, and taking a look around to ensure he wasn’t seen.  One of the best parts of living in the Muggle World was the low profile he was allowed to keep.  The Magical Press had already been forbidden by the Minister to visit Harry's residence due to the high density of muggle population surrounding the area.  The statue of secrecy was well respected by all now that the war was over, and none had dared approach Harry since he moved in a little over a month before.

As Harry's feet pounded the pavement, the sprawling urban landscape unfolded before him. The multi-level complex gradually gave way to a network of bustling streets, teeming with early morning activity. Cars zipped by, their headlights cutting through the dawn's soft glow. The air was filled with the rhythmic cadence of footsteps and the muted hum of conversation, as fellow joggers, walkers, and runners embraced the cool morning air.

Harry fell into an easy rhythm, his breath syncing with the steady beat of his heart. The urban symphony surrounding him was a stark contrast to the solitude he often found himself in. Yet, there was a strange comfort in being just another face in the crowd, a fleeting anonymity that allowed him to blend in seamlessly. The weight of the world seemed to lift momentarily as he became simply another runner, another early riser, another soul seeking solace in the quiet beauty of the morning.

In the years he'd spent on the Quidditch pitch, Harry had never truly relished the physical training that came with it. The endless drills, the demanding practices - they were simply a means to an end, a necessary evil on the path to victory. During the war that had ravaged their world, running had taken on a new meaning. It wasn't about winning or glory; it was about survival.

Running had become his refuge, his escape from the demons that haunted him. It started slowly, with hesitant steps and labored breaths. The first few runs were more like walks, his body protesting the unaccustomed exertion. But with each stride, he felt a measure of control returning. The rhythm of his feet on the pavement, the wind against his face, the steady beat of his heart - they all anchored him to the present, pushing back the shadows of the past.

Gradually, he increased the distance, the pace, the intensity. His muscles, once honed for aerial acrobatics on a broomstick, adapted to the demands of running. His stamina improved, his speed increased, his body began to shed the lingering effects of the war, and with each run, he felt like he was reclaiming his life, one step at a time.

He was no longer the scrawny boy who had faced Voldemort; he was a man, scarred but resilient, rebuilding himself from the ashes of his past. The war had been his battleground; now, the open road was his sanctuary. And as he ran, he felt a sense of peace that he had rarely known before. It was a hard-won peace.

Of course the exercise didn’t fix all of his trauma. The panic attacks had started insidiously, randomly creeping into his consciousness when he least expected it. A crowded street, a sudden loud noise, a fleeting memory - any of these could trigger a wave of terror that threatened to consume him. In those moments, his body remembered the horrors he had witnessed, the friends he had lost, the darkness he had faced.  

The sky was ablaze with the hues of dawn as Harry concluded his run, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body glistening with sweat. The rhythmic pounding of his feet against the pavement had gradually eased the tension that had coiled within him, leaving him feeling a sense of accomplishment and renewal.

He pushed open the door to his modest flat, the cool air a welcome contrast to his heated skin. Stripping off his sweat-soaked clothes, he stepped into the shower, the hot water washing away the remnants of his exertion. The steam filled the small bathroom, enveloping him in a comforting warmth.

Toweling off briskly, he dressed in clean clothes, the feel of soft fabric against his skin a pleasant sensation. His stomach growled, a reminder of the appetite he would workup after a good run. Making his way to the kitchen, he decided on a hearty breakfast to fuel his body for the day ahead.

The sizzle of bacon filled the air as he cracked eggs into a pan, the rich aroma mingling with the scent of toasting bread. Soon, a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and golden toast sat before him. He took a seat at the small kitchen table, the morning light streaming through the window casting a warm glow on his surroundings. The first bite of food was a revelation, the flavors bursting on his tongue, satisfying his hunger and providing a much-needed energy boost.

A pang of loneliness struck him as he eyed a moving photo of his final year at Hogwarts and the Quidditch team that had won him his last Cup.  In the photo Ginny was snuggled under his arm, and held closely to him.  Ron looked immensely proud of their accomplishment, while his arm was around the two young beaters Richie and Jimmy.  Katie and Demelza were back to back looking proud, and Harry sighed wistfully.

The war had been a tumultuous time, filled with uncertainty and fear. Throughout it all, Harry had clung to the hope that his relationship with Ginny would endure. He believed that their bond was strong enough to weather any storm. But upon his return, he was met with a harsh reality. Ginny was not the same girl he had left behind. The war had taken its toll on her, leaving her distant and withdrawn. The death of her brother, Fred, had shattered her spirit, extinguishing the fiery spark that had always defined her.

Harry's letters to her went unanswered, leaving him feeling lost and alone. He longed to see her, to offer her comfort and support, but he was hesitant to intrude. He knew that she was spending a lot of time with Luna, and he didn't want to disrupt their healing process. He hoped that with time, Ginny would find her way back to him. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, his hope began to dwindle.

Harry, his heart heavy with a sense of melancholy, poked at his breakfast with a fork. He clung to the hope that life would continue, despite the weight of his emotions, but some days that felt less likely than others.

Suddenly, a roar erupted from his fireplace, startling him and drawing his gaze towards the mantle. Hermione stepped out of the flames, her face beaming with a wide smile. Surprise flickered across her features as she saw her friend already awake. "Harry!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with warmth and excitement, "Happy birthday!"

Looking puzzled by her words for a moment he eventually quirked a small smile, “Merlin, I forgot what day it was.”

Chuckling and looking at her best friend fondly the woman responded, “Honestly how you get by without me is nothing short of a miracle.”

“Without you?” Harry asked incredulously, “I hardly ever go more than a few days without speaking with you.  With your help my head stays on straight for the most part.”

The two shared a laugh and Harry rose to his feet offering to make his best friend tea, but she shook her head and sighed, “I was hoping to make you breakfast.  What time were you up?”

“A few hours ago.” Harry said passively as he put the kettle on the stove, “I went for a run and tried to clear my head, and get a little exercise.  It was nice.”  Knowing his best friend would want to ask a dozen more questions he staved her off by asking, “Where’s Ron anyways?  It’s my birthday and the lout couldn’t get up to spend time with me?”

“He was up late with Bill and Charlie last night.” Hermione defended lightly, “They were discussing some job prospects.  I know we aren’t in too much of a hurry, but we can’t wait around forever for our futures.”

“Still set against going back to Hogwarts then?” Harry asked gently, not looking at the brunette as he made his tea.

Scoffing, the girl said, “It would drive me crazy.  Professor Flitwick has even offered me an apprenticeship, but I don’t know if I want to be in the castle everyday…too many memories.”

In understanding Harry merely nodded his head as the faces of Colin Creevey and Lavender Brown flashed through his minds.  Images of their mangled bodies from the battle haunted him.  Shakily he poured his cup of tea and returned to the table where Hermione took his hand softly, “Harry?  What do you want to do today?  We could go to Diagon for lunch in a bit?  Mrs. Weasley has already offered a birthday dinner so if you can avoid the awkwardness with Ginny that would be a nice gesture to accept.”

“There is no awkwardness with Ginny.” Harry sighed, “She needs time, and so do I.  It’s really okay.”

“That’s very mature of you, Harry.  I am proud.” Hermione said with a slight smile.

Nodding his head as if he hadn’t heard the girl, a thought occurred and a crooked grin crossed his features, “You know what sounds nice?”

“It might sound silly, but I’ve really just needed an escape from everything.” Harry confessed, letting out a long, ragged exhale that seemed to carry the weight of countless unspoken anxieties. He ran a hand through his already disheveled dark hair, a nervous habit that did little to soothe the tension knotting his shoulders. 

“No, it's stupid,” Harry instantly decided, the brief moment of vulnerability collapsing in on itself. He shook his head sharply, “Forget I said anything.”.

“Harry, it’s your birthday.” Hermione said with a slight nervous laugh, “We can do whatever you want.  You have more than earned it.”

“It just seems silly after everything.” Harry said scratching the back of his head, but glancing back at his best friend with a smile.

Cautiously Hermione returned the smile with a nervous look, “Well, what is it?  I can’t read your mind.”

“I just want a game of Quidditch.”

(A/N) This story has been on my mind for a while.  I have always wanted to write a Quidditch centric story that will have some heavy elements, but will also have lots of feel good moments.  We have done many dark and powerful Harry stories, and this one just feels more light hearted.

Romance will be a very heavy prospect to this story, and there will be lots of explicit content.  One thing I don’t like about most of the Quidditch stories out there though is how little magic is in it.  I want you all to know that my Harry is not going to be a bitch in this story.  He is still the Boy-Who-Won, and there will be some moments of action that will remind the world just how he defeated Voldemort.

I think it is possible that the story may end up centering around a pairing eventually, but I am not sure.  If it did I would definitely lean towards Katie Bell, but I would be happy to hear some feedback on that.  I have written about 7 chapters of this, but I am not sure it will ever go beyond this if you guys don’t like it…so let me know!  

This is definitely a possibility for the next story, or I can just keep it as a side project if there is lots of interest, but not a majority.  Poll to come in the coming days, but I wanted to give you all some sample chapters to make your choice a little more educated. Cheers everyone!