“Would you like me to take you to the hospital?”

It had not taken much of a charm offensive to get into the changing rooms at the stadium – in fact, Harriet had been rather let down by not having to employ any of her usual tactics to get where she wanted to get. A single harried wizard had been loitering by the player’s entrance and, when Harriet had introduced herself (Mrs Prewett, Fitzroy Prewett’s mother and-) she had barely gotten started before he had waved her through and stepped back as though with a flick of her wrist she could have him taken to the gallows.

Finding Arthur had been even less of a struggle. He was predictably not looking after himself properly and, as she had guessed, was still as close to the action as someone could be without being on the pitch.

Still, she matched his tone with a hollow joke of her own: “If anyone asks you’re doing Fitz a favour and taking care of me.”