Oblivious to Anne's observation about her hair, Sloane was sure it was only made worse in comparison by the fact that all of the color had drained from her face, white as a sheet as she felt the nausea bubble up in her stomach. The implications of both her brother's injury and the bludger in the stands was not good. They only grounded matches in serious cases, Sloane knew this, but the gravity of the situation was weighing her down more than she'd like it to.

Still wide-eyed and speechless, she finally tore her eyes from the field at the touch of Calla's hand. She didn't usually like to be so openly jarred, but she highly doubted anybody was going to hold it against her today. Avoiding eye contact with anyone, she searched for her mum at the back of the room, allowing Calla to pull her away from the edge. She doubted they would really be able to go check on Fussy, but she couldn't just stand there anymore either.