So this was it. Forrest was going home for two months.

He should be happy, he really should. And he tried to be happy--he'd been trying that since - well, since some time--but it was hard, see? The prospect of getting away from wands and flying killer metal balls and money issues excited him, but only his logic. Deep down, he still wanted to mope and glare at everyone. He walked slowly into the Great Hall, following a group of older students in case of a dementor, he made his way to the Hufflepuff Table and sat somewhere insignificant as he tried to be insignificant himself. There were people leaving, people he liked, and... he clutched onto a keyring of Tottenham Spurs Football Club like he did when he didn't want some stuff to happen but knew they were out of his control.

Keeping his head down... he'd learnt that it worked with dementors and his mood certainly ordered him so.