Henry Carey
September 13, 2013 9:40 AM
Spectating. by Henry Carey
He knew his reaction was most likely unusual, but Henry’s reaction to the sudden appearance of rain had been a smile and much pleasanter mood than he had expected to have today, on the day of the Quidditch Final, because he reasoned that surely the rain would keep away many of those who might have otherwise come to watch the game. Surely, surely, it had to be getting boring for all of them, considering how often Aladren won. They had lost once in the past seven years. Surely it was not worth going out in the rain to watch for anyone but those close to the players, and a handful of enthusiasts who would want to sit at the very top of the stands, far away from any position Henry might choose to take up out there. There had been a time when he didn’t mind heights and enjoyed flying – he had felt more outside his head then – but proving he was a wizard by accidentally Apparating, leaving behind his right leg and most of one hand, and appearing again thirty feet in the air and nearly hitting the ground had put a pretty quick end to that. Flying lessons had rendered the exercise tolerable again, in case of absolute necessity, but he didn’t think he’d ever enjoy it again.With that thought in mind, he had followed through with most of his original plan to further avoid most of the crowd by sitting in a bad seat, closer to the ground than the action, useful for viewing only if Arnold had to pull off one of those dives which would have made Henry a bit queasy to watch even Before to catch the Snitch. It wasn’t, though, quite as bad as he had planned to – maybe it was just the unexpected treat of the rain, the expectation of things not being as bad as he expected, but he felt better-disposed toward the others who had come out in the rain for this than he normally would have, and was reminded of last year again, of being around people more.
Admittedly, it probably helped that, right now, two of the people from last year were within his line of sight. Squinting, his hand held up over his glasses in addition to the hood he had pulled over his head, he wasn’t sure he could really tell the difference between Pierce and Arnold until the latter went to shake hands with Other Pierce, but Wolseithcrafte was visible, too – she and Jay were lighter-haired, and she was both fairer and smaller than Jay, so easy enough to spot. Again, he had the odd sense of somehow being more part of a side than usual; it wasn’t his House, but he knew almost everybody out there. His cousins, his brother, his brother’s roommate, his own teammates…everyone but the Keeper girl, Fifth Year Thornton, was something to him.
“Social life,” he muttered to himself.
A whistle blew and everyone flew up in the air. He looked up after them and saw Wolseithcrafte had the Quaffle, but then rain stopped pouring off the edge of his hood and tipped back into his face and he looked down again at once, too late to keep the rain off his glasses. Muttering less pleasant things now, he fumbled in a pocket beneath his cloak for his handkerchief, trying to figure out how to get the glasses where he could dry them off without just getting then handkerchief wet, too, and so completely defeating the whole point. He didn’t want to just make it worse by smearing them.
In spite of this, though, he couldn't help feeling just a tiny bit cheerful. Not quite accomplished - it was much too early for that. But cheerful, for him.
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Henry Carey
Spectating.
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Henry Carey
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