"Thanks Harry," Katie told him sincerely.
"Yeah, thanks," Stephanie added with a wide smile.
Harry held his hands out. "No need to thank me. I'm just telling you the truth. I'm going to try to find the guys. I think Nate is going to need some reassurance. I saw him earlier, and he didn't look so good. Keep an eye out for him, will you?" The girls nodded, and Harry bid his goodbyes.
After a couple of minutes, he found Kirke and Sloper and talked to the boys briefly about the match. He stressed that they had done well, but that the Slytherins' dirty tactics and cheap shots were unavoidable and bound to wear everyone down. The fact that they prevented any injuries was testament to the job they'd done. The two boys smiled and thanked Harry, who left on his way to search out Nate.
It took him several minutes, but he finally found the boy sitting in a secluded corner with one of his friends. "Mind if I sit?" Harry asked.
Nate glanced up and noticed who it was. If it was possible, his face just fell even more. He directed his gaze back to the ground and nodded morosely. His friend, whose name escaped Harry, said, "I think I'm going to go grab some food," leaving Harry and Nate alone.
After a long moment of silence, Harry decided not to beat around the bush. "What's the matter? Why aren't you celebrating with the rest of the house?"
Nate raised his head and stared incredulously at Harry. "Are you kidding? What have I got to celebrate? I'm the reason we almost lost the game," he lamented.
"Really?" Harry asked. The boy nodded. "So you're the one who let in 18 goals, and you were the one dishing out cheap shots to our whole team left and right, and you are the one who blocked several of our shots? That's quite impressive. I didn't know one person could do so much."
"Of course I didn't do all that," he retorted defensively.
"Then how are you the one who almost lost us the match?" Harry calmly returned.
"I played terribly. I dropped the quaffle a couple times, and I didn't score a single goal," he stated dejectedly.
"Well I can't exactly dispute you on the last point," Harry started. "But you did set Stephanie up on her second goal. That was a very nice move, by the way. You didn't start off bad at all, but your timing was a bit off at times, which is no fault of your own. You just haven't practiced enough with Katie and Stephanie. After a couple mistakes, you just let everything get to your head." Harry looked at the boy and could tell he was listening, but it didn't look like he was any closer to forgiving himself.
"Do you remember last year, how horribly Ron played in the first two games?" Harry asked him suddenly.
"Yeah," he said with a nod.
"Do you know why he played so bad those games, while he played so well in the last game of the season?"
Nate shook his head.
"It was his attitude. Ron got too nervous, and he let the Slytherins' comments get into his head. He went into the game thinking he would do poorly, and after every mistake he made, he berated himself and let it get him down. He played like crap because he convinced himself that he was just that bad," Harry explained.
"But he turned that around in the last game because he just stopped thinking about it. He decided that he had nothing left to lose and stopped focusing on what everyone was saying and just played the game. You're a good Quidditch player, that's why we picked you. We all saw that you had talent at tryouts, and we expect you to be a starter after Katie leaves. We think you're that good. You just have to learn to drown out the crowd and everything else and just play the game."
Harry paused here and watched the boy in front of him. He looked thoughtful and nodded to himself a couple times as he thought over everything Harry had just told him. Finally he looked Harry in the eye and said, "Thanks, Harry."
"Don't mention it," Harry replied easily. "Now get on out there and celebrate with your friends."
The tentative smile that Nate had formed faded. "But what if the rest of the students blame me?"
Harry waved away his concern. "They won't. Trust me. Everyone knows that you didn't have much practice time. Nobody blames you one bit for what happened. Now get on out there before I have to drag you myself."
Nate shot him a grateful smile as he stood and walked out into the hustle and bustle of the Common Room. Harry sat in the big armchair Nate had just vacated and watched as the boy was greeted by his friends who all smiled, some of them patted him on the back. After another minute, they were all laughing at something or another. Harry couldn't help the smile that overcame him. He would be all right now.
"That was a nice thing you did," a voice interrupted his thoughts from beside him. He didn't have to look to know who it was.
"I just told him the truth," Harry replied, still looking out into the Common Room.
"Yeah, and encouraged him and cheered him up. Five minutes ago he was miserable, and now he's laughing and having fun with his friends," the voice pointed out.
"He deserves to celebrate as much as anyone else here," Harry returned. "He had no reason to feel bad about the game. He shouldn't have been put in that position to begin with."
"No, he shouldn't have," the voice agreed, laying a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Nor should I have been put in as Seeker. You should have been out there."
Harry nodded absently. "Too late to change that now. All we can do now is make the best of what happened."
"You're right." There was a short pause. "I was thinking that your Firebolt would look really nice on the wall opposite the door in your office. You'd be able to see it from your desk, and people would see it as they walk in. And that wall is big enough that it wouldn't feel cramped at all. You could even still hang something else up there if you were so inclined."
"I might just do that," Harry said, turning towards her. "I think I trust your eye for style more than my own."
"And with good reason," Ginny teasingly replied.
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Harry cried out in mock indignation.
"Nothing. Nothing at all," she returned with a smirk as she took the fabric on the shoulder of his t-shirt in her fingers and examined it distastefully.
"I'll have you know that I had a lot of help picking out my clothes. The help of two attractive girls, mind you," Harry defended himself.
"Oh really?" she asked, her tone belying her interest in the subject. "Two attractive girls, you say?"
....
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