It was over; after all his hard work and training, Viktor had missed the Snitch, giving the win to Ireland. The crowd stood, booing at him as he landed in a pile of mud, splattering his robes. He wiped the blood from his nose, which had been smashed by a Bludger and scowled. Walking over to the benches, he sat down, his eyes downcast.

"Its ok mate, you tried." Someone shouted from the crowd. Viktor turned around and glared down at the poor lad. The depression was setting in and instead of scowling; he laughed as his team surrounded him.