It was over. It was finally over, but Max didn’t feel as much relief as he had expected. Really, he wasn’t feeling much of anything. He watched, numb, as Madam Hooch raised a red-clad arm. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. They had worked too hard to have been defeated so humiliatingly. It was incredibly disappointing, and he could not work up the good grace to be happy for the Gryffindors. Perhaps it would have been different without the fog and the injuries; if they had all been in top form and playing their best, he could probably have felt okay about the loss. Probably.

However, as he listlessly drifted to the ground, he was not at all sure that he had played his best. In fact, he was pretty disgusted with himself. He could tell T.J. felt the same. About herself—not necessarily about him. Though, probably about him, too. The rest of the team was huddled around Shanley, and he trooped over to join them. She didn’t look good. They had killed Shanley, and she didn’t even get the snitch. Oh, no! She moved a little, so Max concluded that she probably wasn’t dead.

“Is someone getting Madam Pomfrey?” he asked. It looked like the little Gryffindor Seeker might need some medical attention, too, but the rest of the Gryffindors seemed to be too busy celebrating to bother about it. At least Hufflepuff took care of their own. “Maybe we should all stand back,” he suggested nervously. If she was broken, they didn’t want to jostle her and make it worse… He vaguely recalled something to that effect from the time he broke his wrist.

Max looked up to see T.J. storming off toward the castle, and he sighed. Someone should probably go after her… It wasn’t as if he was doing anything useful standing around, staring at Shanley. He supposed he might as well go try and talk her down. Besides… he didn’t think he wanted to go back to the commons and face his housemates after the loss. Not quite yet. Taking his own advice, he backed up off of their crumpled Seeker and turned to follow T.J. up towards the school.