If you can't solve the problem, solve the person causing it.
Moor and the England Quidditch coaching staff were tactical geniuses.
A Beater?
That might actually work.
Klein thought it over for a moment, then gave Coach Moor an "OK" sign.
Coach Moor breathed a sigh of relief and patted Klein on the shoulder.
"Then I'll go tell Gasol and the others. Just take a bat with you when you go out."
"All right."
Klein wasn't sleepy anymore, either.
He was really looking forward to seeing Krum's face when he spotted Klein playing Beater.
At this stage of the tournament, there were no longer any home or away games.
The match between England and Bulgaria had been scheduled at French Quidditch Headquarters.
But the French fans were every bit as enthusiastic as the English ones. Everywhere you looked, people were holding up signs supporting Klein and the England Quidditch Representative Team.
Even the French fans themselves hadn't expected it.
Decades ago, "Grindelwald" had set Paris ablaze. Decades later, they were going wild for another "Grindelwald."
"Klein! Klein! Klein!"
"Over here! Look this way!"
"I love you! Ah! Grindelwald!"
It was absolutely crazy. Ever since the shutout streak had taken off, all the fans had been swept up in a blind frenzy.
Looking across the packed stadium, there was hardly anyone cheering for Bulgaria. It was English fans from one end to the other.
You'd think they were in London.
"Tch."
The louder the crowd outside roared, the more annoyed Krum became.
Head bowed, he seemed to be muttering something under his breath. His square face was as dark as the bottom of a pot.
"Don't let them get to you. Once we beat those Englishmen, all the cheers will be for us."
The Bulgarian captain gave Krum a light punch