You lost a quidditch game. The first loss of the season. And against Gryffindor. You hated that little prick Harry with all your soul. At least you did today. He had pushed you, maybe it was on accident but that didn’t help your mood, off your broom and you had landed with your butt in the air, embarrassing yourself in front of the whole school.

“Whatever.”

You murmured angrily, throwing your broom on the pile and stomping out of the pitch whipping around the corner and ending up face to face with Neville Longbottom.