I don't own Harry Potter.
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They had lost. He had fallen off of his broomstick after screaming like a little girl. He let his team down, they'd only lost by a goal.

At least there was a Hogsmeade weekend the day afterwards. He needed a day alone.

He went to the Hog's head, knowing it was usually rather empty there, and sat at the bar.

He ordered a butterbeer, not being brave to try going for a firewhiskey so underage, and nursed it.

The bartender eventually just stared at him, because he'd had that butterbeer for an hour now, and he wasn't done with it yet.

"Kid, whatever it is, it ain't that bad. Life goes on, and it'll be forgotten eventually."

Aberforth then went to the other side of the bar for another customer.