The only girl at Durmstrang

Chapter 1

You'd think being a famous quidditch player and all, my life would be all fame and fortune wouldn't you? Well I am here to tell you that to put it frankly, it isn't. First off you have all the crazy fans. And when I say crazy, I mean absolutely insane. Don't get me wrong, I love all the fans, but when you get a bra filled with potatoes as a gift telling you of someone's undying love, it gets to be a bit much.Next you have all the hate mail, howlers, etc. Funny story! Did you know, that if you leave 86 howlers in one place, without opening them, then your room is 99.9% likely to explode? Now you know!

Now enough of the fans. I want to tell you about my life. Normal people would tell you stuff like, "my hair is brown, my eyes are green." or "I like American football and cricket." But the first thing you should know is that I'm not what most people would consider a normal person.

The soul word that describes me is ladylike. I love dresses and makeup and especially curling my hair. That's the bomb! Kidding. One of the best words to describe me is quidditch. I love it, I live for it, I would marry it if I could. Not that I don't like people, in fact I am a very sociable person. Is that even a word? Anyway! That being said, I only talk to boys. I mean, not that I get a chance to talk to many girls being the only girl at an all boys school. That's right! I go to Durmstrang. Home of the gross, oversized, hormone crazed, Bulgarian hunks. But I do have my Vicky to protect me from all the "big, bad, scary boys." Or at least that's what he says. I say get past Vicky and I'll give it a shot!

Currently I am the top chaser for the Bulgarian quidditch team. That's actually where I met my best friends. Not really ever having had a real conversation with a sensible girl, (definition: one that wasn't after Vicky) I clicked with the team quite well. Even for being the only girl and having a coach that hates me.

I am going to let you in on a little known fact. I have never actually known my real family. I know my first name is Cecilia, but call me that and I may have to break your nose. Vicky's family adopted me when I was just 1 year old. So now my name (as far as I know) is Cecilia Krum.

Now that all that jazz is over, let's start off the story with a place we all know. The World Cup.
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(Bulgarian is in bold)
"Cece! We gotta go!" Vicky shouts from the back door.

"Don't get your nickers in a twist! I'm coming!" I yell back. It's the morning of the big game and I can't find my glove. That's my life for ya! The biggest game of my life and I can't find a stupid glove.

"Bye ma!" I yell as I walk out the door.

"Don't break your neck!" She calls from her study. Our pap died from a (not so) rare disease called idiotic death eater-vitis, so she takes care of all the home utilities and such while we pay the bills. Funny how that works, isn't it?

"Finally! I was beginning to think you got lost!" Vic said as I climbed on my brand new fire bolt, "We are running late so here's the melt down. We have seats in the top box till they call the team. We are all going to be scattered across the stadium to have a bigger and better first impression. Got it?"

"Good morning to you too," I grumbled.

"Don't be a spoil sport. Be happy! It's the big game!" Vic nudged me.
When we arrived at the stadium I started to understand why we were supposed to come early. There were fans EVERYWHERE. I don't think I've ever been groped so many times in my life.

"We have to walk up where?!" I shout.

"We wouldn't have had to if someone would have gotten up just a little bit earlier!" He shouts back.