I am the Worlds Greatest Entertainer

Chapter 32: Sending out the audition tape

Crystal stood a short distance away from me, her attention fixed on the camera we had set up near the edge of the school's old football field. 

We were on the Teen Wolf set, but none of that seemed to matter at the moment. Dylan, standing across from me, wore a makeshift Gryffindor jumper I had purchased for this—his hair slightly ruffled to give the impression of a Quidditch practice session. 

The entire idea had come together quickly, and now that we were here, it felt slightly absurd yet oddly thrilling.

"Okay," Crystal called out, adjusting the focus manually. "Rolling in three, two… one. Start."

As soon as she said that, the world changed for me.

In that instant, the football field no longer looked like a set. The green turf blurred at the edges, softening into a landscape of well-trimmed grass and looming stands. 

The scent of rubber and synthetic paint gave way to something earthy and brisk. I didn't see the scaffolding or the studio walls. I saw Hogwarts. 

Really saw it.

And then, as it had happened before, something inside me gave way.

The familiar sensation of the system activating was subtle at first, like a wave of heat moving through the back of my mind. 

Without a single line of dialogue spoken yet, I already felt the transformation taking root.

I wasn't just standing on a field anymore.

I was Cormac McLaggen.

I've felt the system's power before—in the way it let me slip into Scott McCall's skin so easily. But this was different. Scott had been humble, awkward, and emotional. 

Cormac, on the other hand, stood at the far end of that spectrum. He carried himself like someone who assumed the world was always watching, always applauding. 

I could feel that confidence—arrogant, self-assured, a little bit smug—settling into my limbs like muscle memory.

But interestingly, I didn't lose myself completely. Somewhere within the performance, I could still feel the quiet part of myself watching. 

Jace wasn't gone. He was simply seated in the back row of my mind, observing, listening, learning from the way this character walked, moved, and thought.

I thought with this new immersion I would feel myself be lost again, like I used to with Scott, but I didn't.

I looked across the field—no, the pitch—and saw Ron there. He shifted awkwardly, his arms crossed, his expression defensive.

"You honestly think you earned that spot, Weasley?" I asked, voice steady and deliberate.

The words rolled out naturally, shaped by the disdain in McLaggen's tone. I stepped forward, each movement purposeful. 

I felt taller, broader, as if the very air bent slightly to make room for me. I didn't need to yell. I didn't need to rush. Confidence allows you to speak slowly and still dominate the conversation.

"We all saw the tryout. I mean, really—you were barely holding on. Potter did you a favor. We both know that."

Ron narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. I let the silence linger just long enough to add weight to the next line.

"If this team actually wanted to win, I'd be the one flying next match. Not you."

There was no need for shouting or gesturing. The weight came from tone, from the subtle condescension that coated every syllable. 

And yet, I didn't feel disconnected from it. I understood where McLaggen was coming from. He wasn't evil. He wasn't trying to hurt anyone. He simply believed—perhaps wrongly—that he was the best.

"And don't worry," I added, as I turned and started to walk away. "I'll be watching from the stands. The moment you slip up—and you will—I'll be ready."

As I stepped away, the Hogwarts pitch shimmered again—and like water rippling from a stone, it melted back into the reality of the football field set.

 The wind, the enchanted atmosphere, even the sense of being somewhere otherworldly—it all faded. And I was Jace again.

Crystal slowly lowered the camera. "I'm not even sure what to say," she murmured. "That was… seriously good."

I ran a hand through my hair, still half in that other world. "Thanks."

For a moment, I just stood there, processing how seamless it had been. How real it had felt.

Maybe Cormac McLaggen was only ever a background character in the original films. But now, I knew for a fact that, given the right angle and just enough room, even a supporting role could leave an unforgettable impression.

And more than anything, I realized that I could bring it to life.

After wrapping up the scene with Dylan and Crystal on the mock-up Quidditch pitch, I offered them both a quick goodbye. 

Dylan gave me a mock salute, Crystal smiled warmly and waved, and I headed off to my trailer. 

The sun had dipped low enough to cast long shadows across the parking lot, and I realized just how surreal the day had been.

Back in the quiet of my trailer, I set up my tripod and camera to record the second half of my audition—the commentary. 

This part wasn't about acting. 

It was about insight. 

The casting director had asked for how I viewed the character of Cormac McLaggen—what had been overlooked, what I would do differently. A faithful interpretation, but also an intelligent one.

I took a breath, clicked record, and looked directly into the lens.

"Hi," I began, keeping my tone calm and focused. "Thank you for considering me for the role of Cormac McLaggen. I understand the entire audition clip must be under one minute, so I'll keep this brief."

I let a small pause settle before continuing.

"When I read the books—and I mean truly read them, not just skimmed the highlights—I felt like Cormac was a character that never got the benefit of depth. He was loud, arrogant, a bit overconfident, and that became the extent of his portrayal. But characters like Cormac… people like him don't come from nowhere."

I shifted slightly, leaning in closer to the camera to narrow the space between us.

"In my interpretation, that extreme confidence isn't just who he is. It's a response to his environment. The sacred twenty-eight wizarding families put enormous pressure on their children to excel. That pressure can turn into insecurity. And what do insecure people do? They overcompensate."

I kept my voice even, avoiding theatrics.

"I see Cormac as someone who grew up being told he had to be exceptional—not just good, but exceptional. Someone like Harry Potter walks into Hogwarts, barely tries, and yet constantly ends up in the spotlight. For Cormac, that must feel like chaos. He's someone who's been conditioned to equate visibility with value. If no one's looking at him, no one cares. So he makes sure they look."

I nodded slowly, allowing that thought to linger.

"This isn't to excuse his arrogance—it's to explain it. Much like Draco Malfoy, he's a product of his upbringing. But unlike Draco, Cormac doesn't have a larger ideological framework driving him. He's not caught in pure-blood supremacy. He's caught in validation. In sports. In charm. In the quick laugh, the visible win, the next moment to prove that he matters."

My eyes briefly flicked down to the timer on the camera. 

"I believe there's more to Cormac than the books or films allowed us to see. And I'd love the chance to explore that."

With that, I stood, walked up to the camera, and pressed stop.

…

(3rd Person)

With both clips finalized, Jace sent the files over to his editor with a clear instruction: this was a rush job. The deadline for the Harry Potter audition tape was hours away, and between filming, writing, and content management, he hadn't been able to get around to it until the very last day. 

Fortunately, his editor had become accustomed to quick turnarounds. Within three hours, the finalized video—a seamless blend of performance and commentary—landed back in Jace's inbox. 

He reviewed it quickly, checking for any noticeable issues, and satisfied with the cut, forwarded it immediately to the contact provided by Ethan.

Halfway across the world, in a modest but well-appointed casting office in Central London, Fiona Weir, the long-standing casting director for the Harry Potter franchise, sat behind her desk surrounded by a pile of screen test submissions and printed portfolios. 

A colleague from one of their affiliated agencies had mentioned the American candidate earlier that week. 

He had described the actor as an interesting possibility for the role of Cormac McLaggen—a minor but distinctive part. She'd been skeptical.

 International casting always came with added complications: visas, travel expenses, contract logistics. 

Unless the performance justified the effort, there was rarely a compelling reason to look beyond the UK's deep pool of native talent.

Still, she had agreed to give the young man a chance. 

Five days. 

That was the window she had offered. It was enough time to send in a well-prepared self-tape, and in her experience, those who couldn't organize themselves within that time frame were rarely worth pursuing anyway.

Now, as she clicked open the email, Fiona expected the usual: a nervous monologue delivered stiffly to a poorly lit background. 

Instead, what played on her screen was unexpectedly immersive.

The scene opened on what looked like a football pitch—an unconventional choice, but within seconds she hardly noticed. 

The camera work was solid, steady, and what caught her attention even more was the presence of the actor. 

The young man—American, likely late teens or early twenties—slipped into the role of Cormac McLaggen with an ease she hadn't expected. 

He wasn't performing in the traditional sense. He was the character.

There was a sharp self-assuredness in his posture, a casual pride that wasn't overdone but still clearly present. 

He walked like someone used to being watched. The arrogance was there, but it wasn't hollow. It had been built around something real—something vulnerable.

The actor didn't seem distracted by the fact that the setting isn't Hogwarts. 

He carried the weight of the scene as if it were taking place in the Quidditch pitch itself. That kind of presence was rare, especially in someone so young and relatively unknown.

When the scene cut to the short commentary segment, she listened closely.

His insights into the character weren't just articulate—they were thoughtful. He didn't ramble. He dissected. 

Cormac's arrogance, he explained, was rooted in insecurity born from childhood expectations. The pressure to be exceptional. The need to stand out in a world that so often gave unearned recognition to people like Harry Potter.

 Fiona found herself nodding slowly, recognizing a layer of the character that had been overlooked in previous portrayals.

By the time the video ended, she was quiet for several moments.

She had taken the submission out of courtesy—nothing more. With thousands of trained actors across Britain vying for even the smallest part in this franchise, there had been no real reason to give the time of day to a self-tape from California.

But now… she couldn't quite shake it.

There was something about the boy. The way he looked. The way he moved. The way he thought.

"Well," she murmured to herself, still staring at the frozen final frame of the video. "Looks like I'm going to have to get the director involved."

She leaned back in her chair, eyes lingering on the screen.

This might be worth the effort after all.

…

Authors note:

You can read some chapters ahead if you want to on my p#treon.com/Fat_Cultivator