I take another tasteless bite of potatoes. I haven't seen that Slytherin since I dropped him off at the hospital wing, and I am now searching through the sea of heads that the Slytherin table ahead of me.
My friends are speaking to each other, but I only vaguely comprehend the meaning of their words. Some of them are from other Houses. I hadn't noticed that they had made their way over until very recently. I wish I could be a part of their conversation, but I simply can't focus. My mind wanders back to the hospital wing.
Finally, I see him sulk timidly into the Great Hall, his hand covering the right side if his face. Already I see that the swelling has lessened considerably.
"Excuse me," I say to my friends as I swing my legs over the long bench. "I'll be right back." I walk cautiously to the other side of the Ravenclaw table. I approach the Slytherin boy somewhat shyly and address him kindly.
"Hey. Is it all right if I sit here?" He turns his head and nods. "Are you feeling better?" I ask as I slide onto the bench next to him. He motions yes again. "Who hexed you?" I try.
The boy takes a shattering breath. "Hugo," he says. It hit me like a bludger – that was the first word I heard him speak.
"Hugo Bog?" I ask. "I swear," I continue threateningly, "someday he's gonna get a nasty curse put on him. I wouldn't be surprised if it was me who did it." I see the boy offer a small, sad smile. I force the next bit out before I can change my mind. "If you don't mind my asking, why'd he do it?"
Again the boy sighs. After an uncomfortable pause, he answers, "I don't know. He's just mean." His voice quivers; he seems on the verge of tears. "He was making fun of me because I'm no good at Quidditch." He averts his eyes and buries them behind his arms.
I sigh with sympathy for the poor kid. No one deserves to be treated that way. If only I could help…
"That's it!" I mutter to myself. I dash back to the Ravenclaw table and grab my bag. Pushing all aside, I search through it with the determination of a mule. Finally, I find the object.
I return to my place at the Slytherin bench. "Here," I address the boy again. "I found this in my common room." I hold out the book I had found. He looks up, his gaze alternating between it and me. "It'll help you be better at Quidditch," I explain. He takes the book and lays it on the table.
"Thanks, but…" His voice quickly stops as he stares at the cover. His expression is unreadable.
"What?" I ask quickly, hoping I hadn't offended him somehow. "What is it?"
The boy locks his eyes briefly on mine. They are shining with tears. Somehow, though, these are different than those that had come from his sadness. On the contrary, in fact – these are tears of joy.
"This book was my mother's. She died when I was six."
I am speechless, which happens about as often as a blue moon. Once I regain my ability to speak, I attempt (but fail) to say something to him. Again I try, saying, "Well – I – er… That's great! I think…" I swallow trying to speak more clearly. "I think you should keep it. Technically it's the property of Ravenclaw House, but at the same time, your mum did leave it there. Also," I say a bit less like myself, "You probably need it more than any of us. I'd bet your mum left a few tips. It might be nice to read her writing again."
The boy is reading through the book, not listening to me. I decide I'd better be quiet. After a few more minutes, he closes the book.
I need something to say. "Do you want to sit with my friends?" I blurt. "They're very nice."
He nods, his face still wet. We go back again to the table reserved for my House. When we reach it, my friends abruptly stop their laughing, though their faces show that my arrival is the cause of their sudden silence. It seems they were talking about me. I don't mind.
"Hey everyone. Is it all right if he sits with us?"
Immediately Beth agrees, and the others follow suit. I sit to the right of Holly. The boy nervously shrinks into his seat further still from the rest of the group.
Jordyn is the first to speak up. "What's your name?" he asks. I don't even know his name! I feel pretty stupid, but no one else knows of my neglected social skills.
"Brent Mills," he says timidly.
All of us present consider ourselves really big nerds, myself included. All of us have a ridiculous obsession with movie quotes of ever sort.
"Hi, Brent," we all say in unison, quoting Finding Nemo. Everyone laughs, and even Brent giggles softly. For once, he seems actually happy.