Pao felt like he was starting to hit a bit of a lucky streak. There was that rock that split in two... Then the one that randomly fell in when he was going for another... Maybe it was the luck of the Italians kicking in? If that even existed, at least.

For several minutes, he raced around the pitch. Back and forth, forth and back. Zig and zag, zag and zig. Whoooooosh, zoooom, diiiiive, tuuuuuurn. There were even two catches in there, too.

The first had once again been a happy accident. Pao hadn't been hunting it down, it had just conveniently fallen into his lap. Well, cauldron, rather.

The second one he'd had to work for, and he had the bruises to show it. After taking a blow to the knee, he'd raced a stone to ground level, only to overestimate the school broom's abilities and pull out of the dive rather sloppily. The resulting bruises on his toes would undoubtedly be a most excellent shade of fuchsia by morning. In the end, he'd picked out another rock and caught it without further incident.