Post by Deleted on May 23, 2019 22:06:15 GMT -7
December 12, 2023
It all happened so fast. First, there was an inquiry. A lot of questions were asked about his life, like how much he knew about his adoption and birth parents, and if he had ever had any health concerns that could potentially interfere with his career. Bernie thought this was standard practice with players as they started to get older; he had recently turned twenty-nine and was a little past his first decade of playing professional Quidditch. A lot of players his age had taken a couple good hits or injuries by this point in their careers, so he figured this was a normal thing to be going over.
His answer was that he hadn’t been injured seriously during his career, ever. There were plenty of broken noses or shattered fingers from rogue bludgers, but a quick flick of the team healer’s wand and he was usually fixed up in a matter of minutes. Apparently what had sparked the inquiry was a nasty gash on the head that Bernie had received in the last match he had played in. He didn’t know it then, but it was going to be his last match of Quidditch forever.
According to the committee that had reviewed the match details and was now interviewing him, the manner in which the injury healed was…unnatural. By the time the healer had gotten to him after the match (which was a lengthy and boring six hours later), it had healed significantly. Apparently a wound of that nature should have had him sidelined immediately to be fixed up before returning to the match. Bernhard had played the remaining six hours absolutely unfazed, except for the initial drip of blood that had clouded his vision.
What happened next was a required blood test, and that he was slightly confused by. Why would they need that? Taking enhancing potions wasn’t going to make his broom go any faster, and anyone that had watched him over the years knew that he played the game the same way. They told him not to worry, and that they would get back to him in a few days’ time.
And they did get back to him, but with a letter indicating that he was henceforth to be banned from playing in any Quidditch matches. His name and number were removed from the Norwegian National Team’s roster, and he had his belongings in the clubhouse turned over to him. The reason for the ban? He was part-giant. A measly quarter of his magical blood was giant, and that was enough for the committee to institute the ban on him.
Bernie was furious at first, and his favorite broom may have accidentally been snapped over his knee in a fit of rage as he left the clubhouse. Obviously he never would have known he was part-giant, since that had never been disclosed to the Eriksens when they had adopted him, and their surprise upon him calling them up to deliver the bad news was just as much of a shock to them as it was him. A few weeks of endless drinking later and he started to put pieces together. His height and build made so much more sense, and the fact that he had always shrugged off his brother’s attempts to curse him with little effort did too; those with giant’s blood held higher vitality and immunity to physical and magical attacks. It also explained the difficulty he had faced in school, and how those like him usually struggled with spellcasting and doing anything involving magic.
Despite coming to terms with the fact that he was done with Quidditch forever and the media was having a field day labeling him as a cheater for playing in the first place, Bernhard still tried to get back on his team. He pleaded with upper management to let him do anything the club needed him to do, from polishing brooms to doing the team’s laundry. They wouldn’t have it though, and the damage on their image as a team had already been done. Bernhard was handed his severance check and formal paperwork to remove him from the team, and that was that. He didn’t understand why they were treating him that way when he was their friend and they knew he wouldn’t hide something like that from them if he had known the whole time. But that was it. As he discovered he was a part-giant, he lost his only passion in life: Quidditch. A great first impression to something he was going to have to live with for the rest of his life.