Pulling up on his broom, Geffrard hovered above the action for the time being with his bird's eye view of the pitch and whistle between his lips should the need to call a foul present itself.

The sky was clear and the wind gentle. Perfect flying conditions for a World Cup final match.

The quaffle was skillfully handled by the Indian side, passed from Misra to Nagarkar and back to Misra once more. Misra's shot zipped through the air with impressive precision, but precision was no match for the speedy reflexes of Snow in this case. With his outstretched hand, Snow punched the quaffle away from the hoops and set it spiraling in a loopty-loop back across the pitch away from the British goals.

Sweeping across the pitch like iron from a cannon, the bludger struck by Logan went whizzing at top speed towards the right shoulder of Misra.

The other bludger, not to be forgotten, was on a trajectory now towards the back of the head of Anand of India.

No hints of anything golden..................yet.