Heirs and the Isolated Trio (3)

Ron opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but when he saw Harry's expression, nothing came out. He let go, climbed off Seamus, and stepped aside with his arms folded across his chest, his face as grim as if he had swallowed a Dungbomb.

Seamus scrambled up from the floor and frantically gathered the things that had fallen out. His fingers trembled, and he could not fasten the clasp on his canvas bag no matter how hard he tried. In the end, he gave up, hugged the bag to his chest, and headed for the door.

As he passed Harry, his steps faltered.

His lips moved, as though he wanted to say something—

Sorry? I didn't mean it? I was just scared?

But in the end, he said nothing.

Hugging the bag and hanging his head like a dog with its tail between its legs, he hurried out of the dormitory.

"Get out," Ron's voice came from behind him, cold and hard. "And don't come back even if you regret it."

The door slammed shut.

The dormitory fell silent.

Neville Longbottom had been curled up on his bed the entire time, his blanket pulled up to his chin, leaving only a pair of round, wet eyes exposed. His face was as white as chalk, his lips trembling faintly. He looked like a terrified little hamster.

From the moment Seamus started packing until he stormed out and slammed the door, Neville had not said a word. He had not even moved. He simply huddled beneath the covers in the farthest corner of the bed, trying his best to seem as though he did not exist.

Harry turned and looked at Neville.

His gaze settled on Neville's face, and that cold, emotionless expression gradually softened. Like the first crack appearing across a