Millie loved to fly. She loved to swoop around and chase the Snitch, and she loved to play Quidditch. Q.E.D. She especially loved catching the Snitch and winning games, and she’d done it, too.

She was less keen on getting her face knocked in, though.

"You did! You did! You were brill! Almost dead, but you did it!"

“Ow! Todd, don’t..”

 "You got it Skrumpette!"

Everybody was crowding around and hugging her and smothering her. It was a bit awful really. And she kept crying. Because she’d been so afraid she would miss it and spoil  everything, and then she didn’t. But that was too … too…. Something.

Millie snuffled and hiccupped and gulped. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” She said.

"Stop crying Millie. We won!" 

“I caught the Snitch, Nat,” She said, and threw up on his boots.

Then there was a mass of yellow pushing his way through the crowd.

“I think somebody should take her to the Hospital wing?” Said Skrumpkin, putting his arm around her shoulder.

“How’d I do, Humph?” Millie asked.