Brooklyn pov

Yay. Now that Astrid left, all my excitement for the match has seeped away. It isn't the same screaming "IRISH!" without Astrid there to scream out the opposing team's name. Besides, Astrid is the reason I'm here. Her father is a main reporter for the Daily Prophet, and he makes a ton of money off of it. But I do feel bad for Astrid - her mother died when she was only seven.

I stroll through the seats, thinking my sad thoughts. It IS funny, though, when I walk up to a Bulgarian guy, scream "IRISH!" in his face, and run away. Who knew a man could turn that purple?

After this, as I walk along sulking, something catches my eye. A mischievous, crooked grin, and a face covered in green and white paint. The guy is walking towards me, grinning as wide as Antarctica.

"Weird analogy," I mutter, having actually seen the mental image of a smile the size of Antarctica plastered on the world map. Shaking off my weird thoughts, I turn to face Mr. Grin. Mr. Grin brings a smile to my face.

"Hey Seamus," I say cheerily.

"Wassup, Brook?" he replies.

"Oh nothing much, really. You know, casually rooting for the Irish." Seamus' grin gets even bigger, which surprises me. I didn't think that was possible.

"Can your grin stretch as far as Antarctica?" I ask innocently, though I'm genuinely curious.

"What are you talking about Brooklyn?"

"No? I assumed as much." I smile. "Rooting for the Irish, are we?"

"Always will. Haven't you heard my accent? I'm Irish!"

"No duh, Sherlock."

"Shut up, Watson!"

I grin. "I got the better end of that deal."

"What are you talking about?" he asks, baffled.

"Well, if you're Sherlock Holmes, then you're a single guy living in an apartment by yourself, on drugs, with one friend and an inexplicable appetite for murder. While I- " I point to myself - "am a respectable doctor with a family and a healthy taste for adventure. It doesn't take a detective to understand who ended up with a better life ... ah, sorry. Bad pun."

Seamus looks amused. "Random aren't you?" he asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

"And proud of it!"

"So where is Astrid? You guys would NOT shut up about this match last year."

I feel my expression turn sour, and Seamus deflates.

"What's wrong, Brook?" he asks, looking concerned.

"Astrid ditched me," I reply bitterly. "She ditched me for Malfoy, the filthy creep. They're in the minister's box, having the time of their lives. Stupid blonde brat."

Seamus's eyes turn stony. He doesn't have any good experiences with Malfoy either; half the time I think he hates him more than I do.

"Then forget about her," Seamus says. "This is going to be the game of your life, and you're gonna enjoy it. Come on. You can watch the match with my family. We don't have the minister's box, but they're still seats." He smiles kindly.

I walk up to him and hug him.

"Thanks," I whisper.

"No problem," he whispers back.

We break apart, and Seamus takes me to his family's tent. After introducing me to his sister, mom, and dad, we start to walk off toward our seats. Seamus and I have an interesting conversation about who would win in a duel - Snape or McGonagall - when we heard the minister's voice boom across the stadium.

"WELCOME! WELCOME! Welcome to the annual Quidditch World Cup!

Seamus and I scream as loud as we can, and I realize how stupid I was for not bringing a bottle of water.

I look at Seamus dead serious and say: "My ears will never be the same. I expect you to nurse me back to health."

Seamus bursts out laughing, and says, "Gladly Brook. I hope it heals with pleasure."

I grin, and turn back to the game.

The Irish come flying out on their brooms, and I scream even louder than before. It's so great, and having Seamus's shoulder touch mine almost makes up for the fact that Astrid isn't with me right now.

As we walk back toward Seamus's family's tent, I feel on top of the world.

"Did you see the way the Irish Captain rode his broom? It was so freaking awesome!" Seamus exclaims.

I smile. "It really was. Hey, I just realized - I don't have a nickname for you! What should I call you?"

"Jonathan, after the Captain!"

"No."

"Uh ... Firebolt?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Seamus?"

"This is so stupid. Sure."

Seamus grins.

"Thanks for taking me Seamus. It sure means a lot," I say.

"You're welcome Brooklyn! See you!"

He pulls me into a surprise hug, and I smile to myself. For some odd reason, he smells like grass. When I pull away from him, my eyes lift upward toward the sky. I jump a bit when I see the dark skull shape. A sudden scream penetrates the calm atmosphere.

The stadium is under attack by Death Eaters.

"Astrid," I breathe. I hear Seamus call my name behind me. He runs up to me, and I yell over all the noise.

"ASTRID! WE HAVE TO FIND HER!"

He nods, and we set off through the maze of people to find my best friend.