Pru was typically not an anxious person, but when it came to quidditch superstitions, she was a downright anxiety-riddled mess. That afternoon was the match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. The winning team would go on to the quidditch cup tournament. The entire school year had led up to this game and as the sole seeker for her team, there was a lot resting on her shoulders. She didn't want to let her teammates or housemates down. If she failed at this, surely it meant she wasn't meant to be a Holyhead Harpie post Hogwarts and then where would she be? Someone's wife? A secretary at some miserable, boring office?

She'd sat so long at the Gryffindor table that her friends had already left - having wrapped up breakfast at least a half of an hour ago, if not more. Her plate was left relatively untouched and the food had grown cold and soggy. Still, she was unable to pull herself together enough to do something productive. She nervously gnawed her fingernails into stubs and twiddled her hair into knots. It was when she fiddled with a fraying string at the edge of her quidditch robe sleeve that things began to unravel.

Literally.

It wasn't until she felt a cold draft on her forearm did she realized she'd pulled at the thread so much that she'd unraveled half of her sleeve - her elbow was nearly hanging out!

"Bloody hell!" She exclaimed loudly in horror, "What have I done?!"