So the match would not go on.

Lachlan suddenly felt nauseous. They didn't pause a game for nothing, and certainly not the Quidditch World Cup. It was his fault, of course, and no matter how accidental it had been, something had happened. Something bad.

He landed on the pitch, his eyes seeking the coach rather than an official or a team-mate. He needed to know what had happened—what he'd done—everyone else figured it out.

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