"What was that for?"
Dean, a dark skinned dark haired 5th year Gryffindor stared down his best friend, Seamus, whose normally jubilant freckly face now reflected a look of loathing and anger.
"You don't actually believe 'im. Do you?" Seamus retorted, not just to Dean but to everyone surrounding the two friends.
"I do," Dean said firmly. "Do you have an answer to what happened to Cedric? Do you not believe Dumbledore?" He inquired. Seamus rolled his eyes.
"You honestly think that he is the Chosen One? The Prophet said Dumbledore's off his rocker," Seamus said loudly. "You-Know-Who 'en't back."
"And Cedric?" Dean asked again. Seamus scowled.
"An accident," He sneered, now standing and looking at the room. "Do any of you honestly believe Harry faced You-Know-Who
again and survived?" The room was silent. Dean shook his head, also standing, and about to walk out of the common room.
"I believe it, mate. Dumbledore's word is enough for me." Seamus looked infuriated.
"And so you're going to sit around, let him gander around like a high and mighty prince?" He questioned, laughing dryly. Dean nodded.
"I'm going to let it be." And with that, Seamus sat down, and Dean walked briskly away.
Author's Note:
Pretty intense scene. I'll try to get one up tomorrow, but it might be tough.
Until then,
-coloronthewalls