"Moony, over here!"
Pomona turned around and spotted two Gryffindor boys flashing past the corner of the corridor.
They did not look like Sirius and James, and besides, the girl called "Moony" was clearly not Remus Lupin.
Maybe she had misheard, she thought. Then she dismissed it and carried her flowerpot toward the Slytherin dungeons.
Even though Emily Taylor was no longer at school, the atmosphere had not changed much. The dungeons especially had become colder and gloomier than usual. Summer was nearly here, yet there was no warmth to be felt—though it was pleasantly cool.
Snape had always been someone who made it hard for others to feel cheerful. He was like a killer of "humor," while the Marauders were exceptionally good at pranks.
Children easily became friends with people they could have fun with. At their age, a friend meant someone who could bring joy. Those gloomy, unsociable people were not only unpopular; sometimes, they became targets for exclusion and teasing.
Once people reached a certain age, they discovered that life was not always so entertaining. Sometimes, they received terrible news. Some people who heard such "bad news" felt that the person delivering it was a real killjoy. Next time, they would not want to play with them, would stop inviting them to parties, lest they bring bad luck and ruin everyone else's good fortune.
Of course, there were also people who chose to listen seriously whether you had encountered something good or bad. That was another kind of friend. You might only meet one or two in a lifetime, far fewer than the people at a party.
For the sake of one's future, people should make friends with those who helped them grow.
But rather than considering what sort of person could help her grow, Pomona felt