The staff meeting had been kind of a shock to John's system after the weekend, so after classes let out, he decided to explore the grounds. He circled the castle, deciding to check out the Forbidden Forest, but was distracted by the sound of shouting and whistle-blowing. He made his way towards the sound and found himself near the Quidditch pitch.
Bundled up in his wool coat, with a forest green scarf, beanie and mittens on, he wasn't prepared for the chill of the ground as he sank to it, hoping to catch the end of what he'd determined was a practice. Observing from this distance, he couldn't tell exactly who was on the pitch, but decided he'd wait until the practice ended to make his way over and say hello.
He saw the team descend and stood, brushing any remnants of earth off his pants, and began walking towards them. The team -- Gryffindor, he presumed by the colors of their robes -- began making its way to the changing rooms. He walked faster, hoping he'd be able to help the instructor clean up. As he approached, he recognized the man and a smile spread across his face.
"Mikey Way!" he chirped, jogging the last few paces towards him. "Do you need a hand?"