There was no time to beat herself up. Priya repeated this to herself once as the quaffle had gone through her hoops, and then once more when she glanced up at the scoreboard. Gritting her teeth, she shook off the guilt and focused on the game, rolling her eyes when the rogue bludger was finally pointed out, and grunting in frustration as they lost the quaffle again.

Here we go again. The quaffle would stay out of her hoops. She glanced around for the beaters on the pitch, and any bludgers that may be heading her way. She couldn't get hit now, she needed to keep her goalposts clear. It was a small bonus to see one of the English chasers go down. More hits like that, please.