Poor Weasley was going as red in the cheeks as a quaffle, herself – she must be seriously nervous. Gus hadn’t quite expected it. She got nervous and awkward about plenty of things, but never quidditch... but as one of the more senior women on the team, she wanted to exude encouragement and confidence and patience. “Of course I think so,” she said, emphatic.

And then pulled a conspiratorial expression and leant towards Weasley as she lowered her tone, all mischief. “And if you do really start bombing Saturday’s game,” Gus said, mock-seriously, as if that was ever an option, “we can call for a timeout, switch robes, and we’ll just say Robins had an off day.” She beamed, picturing the commentator and the crowd giving her hell unknowingly. Subbing one redhead for another – from a distance, who would notice anyway?

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