“They only way I’ll be wanting back in here is if it lasts another four hours, and  I end up starving to death and fainting off my broom in hunger,” he said. Technically, that was possible, but he was hoping that wouldn’t be the case. He wasn’t sure how long he could last out there. Or in here… This waiting was ridiculous. His knees were bouncing up and down in agitation, and he was off the bench like a shot when Sioni reported that the match was starting up again.

"Hear that? Game's on again....We're gonna win, we're gonna win,"

“Yeah, we are!” he said, following Shanley and  Shane out onto the pitch. He nodded at Shane’s advice, but it was kind of going in one ear and out the other. Mounting his broom, his eyes were on the Quaffle. Once Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded, he kicked off and was back in the air. He was delighted to find that the fog had dissipated enough for him to see his fellow chasers. They were back in formation, and they were going to kick some major arse. His excitement level was rising as the scores got closer together, and Hufflepuff actually took the lead once!

At first, he didn’t notice that Shane had been hit—not until Max looked over to pass to him and he wasn’t there. Ohhhhhhhh nooooooooo. This was not good. He landed with the others, hopeful that Pomfrey could just patch him up, but when she shook her head and took him away, his insides started to feel all weird and flippy. He was sure that when he glanced over at TJ, his panic was written all over his face in bold, brightly coloured ink, clear for all the Gryffindors to see. How could they win without Shane? If it wasn’t bad enough that they only had two Chasers now, they were missing their best Chaser…

"Okay, Max. You're going to have to keep up with me."

“Okay,” he said. “You have a plan?” Because he had no plan. He had nothing. Except a bad case of the shaky, sweaty hands… which would most likely lead to a terrible case of the dropsies. He really needed her to have a plan. “Please have a plan…”