Quidditch Match Day Incident (5)

Seamus stood at the very front of the stands, squeezed together with Dean. His scarf had been flung God knew where. With both hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone, he was shouting something. Rain pelted his face as he yelled with his eyes shut, the veins in his neck standing out.

Harry thought he was seeing things.

Seamus. The Seamus who had moved out of the dormitory. The Seamus who had cried and shouted at him, "What if he's in a bad mood?" The Seamus who had walked out of the dormitory without looking back, canvas bag in hand.

Now he stood in the rain, soaked through and hoarse from shouting, cheering for him.

Dean was shouting too. He had taken off his robe and never put it back on. The word "Potter" across his chest had been washed by the rain until only a blurry "P" remained, yet he was still clapping, every slap loud. Several Gryffindor students whose names Harry did not know were shouting too, clapping too, waving their flags with all their strength.

They were all Muggle-born. Or half-bloods. Or had family members who worked in the Muggle world.

They were the people who used to take detours whenever they saw Harry in the corridors.

Now they stood in the rain, their voices hoarse, cheering for him.

Harry's eyes suddenly reddened.

Not from sadness, but because he was so surprised. He had thought he had already been isolated at this school. He had thought everyone was avoiding him, that apart from Ron and Hermione, no one was willing to stand on his side. But now, seeing Seamus, seeing Dean, seeing those people he had thought he had lost standing in the rain and desperately shouting, "Potter will win," he suddenly felt that all his