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'Where's Wood?' said Harry, suddenly realising he wasn't there.
'Still in the showers,' said Fred. 'We think he's trying to drown himself.'
Grim Defeat, HP and the Prisoner of Azkaban, page 135.

You don't know how long you have been in the showers, letting the hot stream of water cascade over your body. Ten, fifteen, thirty minutes...maybe even an hour. At this point, you don't even care anymore. So what if you use all the hot water. So what if you stay here all night. Right now, all you want to do is wake up and realise it's only been a nightmare.

Everybody had already left the locker room, and went to check on Harry. You know you should go too, but at the same time you can't. You know it's not really his fault, who would have thought that Dementors would show up during a match. Even Diggory wanted a rematch. Yet you're not ready to face him, to face the truth – he didn't catch the snitch first.

Gryffindor lost. You lost. This was your last chance to win the Quidditch cup. You've imagined it so many times; it's been your dream ever since you knew what quidditch and Hogwarts meant. So you worked really hard. Everybody said it's talent what counts, but you knew better. Practise makes perfect. So you trained and trained and trained. Your friends thought you were crazy, said all you care for is quidditch. Well, to be honest, at that time it was everything to you.

First year at Hogwarts, you secretly watched all the practices of your house. Whether they trained early in the morning or late at night, you were there. You watched the spectacular saves Gryffindor keeper made and wondered, whether you'll make it to the team. You knew he was leaving next year. You knew that the reserve keeper was also good. Not excellent or brilliant or anything, but quite good.

When the summer came, you refused to participate in family vacations and visiting of distant relatives. Your mind could comprehend only two things – become Gryffindor keeper, win the cup. I guess you trained really hard, because when the day of the tryouts came, you felt confident. Nervous, yes, but confident.

A few years later, two to be exact, you felt the same. Nervous but confident. You were made the captain of the team! Not many fourth years were given that honour. As you hovered in the air and watched the chaser tryouts, seeing some very impressive moves and even some goals that made it past you, you felt great. You finally had three superb chasers. True, one of them was a seventh year, but the second year reserve chaser was pretty good too. Given couple of trainings and Gryffindor chasers were bound to be the best Hogwarts had in several years. You also had two beaters, who seemed to read each others mind. Literally. True, they joked a lot and pulled pranks during training, but once the match came, no one could beat your beaters. Only if you could find a seeker who wasn't scared to dive and then pull up at the last possible minute and the cup was surely yours.

Fifth year came, and your dreams finally came true. Young Potter was the answer to your prayers and this time you were sure the cup was going to have 'Gryffindor' engraved on it. Again, you were wrong.

Maybe it was a matter of destiny. Or Lady Luck refused to look your way. There was no rational explanation to why the best Gryffindor team Hogwarts had in several years wasn't able to win for the last two years.

This year, however, was going to be your year. This was the year your team was going to make it. This was the year you would sacrifice every single minute to quidditch training. This was the year when you had the last chance to seize the cup and hold it high above your shoulders.

Yeah, right, you say. Then why I'm here, alone in the locker room, trying to drown myself. Is it because we have just won the match? No. Because we have won the cup? No. It's because we lost the chance to win the cup. Yes, that's it. Okay, so there is a tiny little chance you can eventually win. But knowing your luck, it isn't going to happen anytime soon. Just face it - your childhood dream will never come true.

Slowly you turn the shower off, wrap the towel around you and make your way to your locker. Putting on some jeans and a t-shirt has never taken you so long. You sigh and sit down on the bench, putting your head in your hands. You aren't going to cry. Not because you don't feel like crying. There aren't any tears left; they all mixed with the water in shower.

You hear the door open but don't bother to look up. You know who it is. Who it always is. 'I've only wanted my biggest dream to come true,' you say as she comes and sits next to you. One look into her eyes and you don't have to say more. You already feel better because she is there and you both know it. She puts her arm over your shoulder and you lean into her embrace.

You don't know how long you two have been sitting on the bench or what time is it now. You only know that you're ready to face the truth. You're ready to grab on that tiny little ray of hope. You're ready to fight for your childhood dream.