Predictable

Seren was pumped for this. She'd put in the hours on the practice pitch, she got plenty of sleep and consumed an energy packed low GI breakfast. The match would be Ravenclaw's to win.

Mounting her broom, she took to the sky with her tenacious team mates, eyes on the quaffle in Professor Vindictus's hands. Even before the whistle was blown, she'd anticipated the movements of the players, the quaffle and the plays. Her senses were sharp and she was ready to chase it, snatch it, pass it and shoot it.
It was clear to her, Ravenclaw's victory was predictable.