The ex-shrens are happy. They are calling it, quite appropriately, a miracle. The parents of the eggs that are newly swirly are confused. The babies love the Snitches and the adults are suspicious of them; someone is trying to wrestle a Snitch away from a fluttering baby to take it to a wizard for inspection. The father whose son was coughing thinks it was just a false alarm and might never learn differently, as far as his child's health is concerned. The weird flying toy, on the other hand, he is quite unable to explain.

This lady flinging herself into a fire hoping to nobody specific that it works, that the mage-potential-tester didn't defraud her, probably isn't a magical emergency.

There's this other mage, though, who tried to jump off a temple and land on her head in a fit of upset, has now changed her mind about wanting to die, and is praying to the gods she's been brought up to worship "or someone kinder" that she'll get away from people currently firing arrows at her. She doesn't have the air under enough control yet to do anything more than fly around by sheer instinct, and not fast, either; if the people of her town have their way she won't get the chance to get accustomed to it.