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After Lily's abrupt exit, Dora met back up with Kingsley.
"Hey," he says softly, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, never better," Dora says, sarcastically, "Not like I've been a victim of wizard discrimination at all."
"Yeah, I figured." Kingsley said, "Lily okay?"
"No," Dora says honestly, "But she's not upset or anything. Just really, really angry."
"That's probably worse."
"Probably," Dora agrees, "Are we heading to the quidditch pitch or what? I don't want to miss my first ever quidditch match!"
"You are handling this surprisingly well," Kingsley says as they start heading down.
"Handling, pretending it never happened," Dora says flippantly, "Does it really matter?"
"Yes," Kingsley says, stopping to look concerned at Dora, who just shrugs. Kingsley sighs. There's obviously no arguing with her. "Am I going to have to explain everything that happens in the match?" He asks, changing the subject.
"Probably."
*
The quidditch pitch is bustling. While the match hasn't started yet, the stands are packed and Dora and Kingsley are lucky to grab seats together. They make their way to the Gryffindor section and stand right at the back.
"Great, we got the worst seats," Dora huffs.
"There's no such thing as bad seats in quidditch. It happens in the air, you can see from anywhere."
"If you say so," Dora says and settles into her seat on the rickety back benches.
Dora looks out across the pitch. The match hasn't started yet but the stands opposite them are filled with Slytherins. Even the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had come out to watch the match, every last bit of the stands was packed full. It seems like the whole school was out here.
"Hey!" Sirius's stupid voice rang out across the stands. Of course he'd be here. Dora had expected they'd be here too, the rate James and Sirius went on about quidditch in flying lessons, but she'd hoped being sat this far back she'd have managed to avoid running into them. But no such luck. And to make things even worse, Sirius was heading straight for her. "Dora, listen, about earlier. I didn't mean-"
Dora turns her whole body away from him and folds her arms across her chest.
"Alright, be that way!" Sirius huffs and storms back over to his other stupid friends. Good, she didn't want him loitering around her, she wanted to actually be able to enjoy her first ever quidditch match.
Dora watches eagerly as the players fly out. The Gryffindor team are handily marked with blazing red robes, the Slytherins in green. The ref walks on, says something to the team that Dora doesn't hear, and releases the balls into game play.
"What's happening now?" Dora asks, as a lumpy red ball is thrown up in the air and about half of each team scramble towards it.
"That ball's the quaffle," Kingsley explains, pointing it out to Dora as the players stop wrestling for it and the Gryffindor team emerge victorious, with one of them clutching the quaffle, "Basically, the chasers – each team has three of them – have to throw the quaffle through the hoops, defended by the opposing team's keeper. If they get it through, they score ten points. The keeper, naturally, doesn't want the quaffle to go through so it's their job to block it."
"Naturally," Dora parrots but so far, it's quite simple. "What do the other players do then?" she asks as she notices some of them aren't even moving.
"Each team also has two beaters and a seeker," Kingsley says, pointing out where each of them are but before he can explain any further, a black, rather angry looking ball whizzes past the stands.
"Jesus! What on Earth is that?" Dora says, eyes wide, jumping up from her seat.
"That?" Kingsley asks as if it wasn't obvious, "It's a bludger!"
"A what?" Dora shouts back, barely able to be heard over the chorus of cheering.
"A bludger!"
"What does that do?"
"It–" Kingsley starts but just as he opens his mouth, the Gryffindor player with the bat whacks the flying angry ball in the direction of the Slytherin holding the quaffle. It hits them straight in the chest. They drop the quaffle straight into the arms of a Gryffindor chaser swooping in below them. The Slytherin player who was hit by the bludger falls out of control to the ground. From where Dora and Kinglsey are sitting, they are too high up in the stalls to see what's happening on the ground but Dora just about sees the cloud of sand that marks the player's impact.
"Oh...that's what it does."
The Gryffindor chaser weaves in and out of players in green until they're within throwing distance of the three hoops and just as they're about to score, a Slytherin player flies in from behind and kicks the back end of the Gryffindor's broom. They're knocked off course and the quaffle misses.
"What?!" Kingsley shouts, jumping up and waving his arms about furiously.
Dora has no idea what is happening, but the whole of the Gryffindor stand erupts into booing.
"How did they get away with that?"
"Was that not supposed to happen?" Dora asks, obliviously.
"No, it's an illegal move and the ref didn't even do anything! Barely even noticed!"
As Kingsley is ranting, the quaffle is tossed back into after falling out of play. It is lined up perfectly to fall into the expectant outreached hands of a Gryffindor playing and, once again, a Slytherin swoops in and elbows them out of the quaffle's path, seizing control of the ball.
"What?!" Kingsley shouts again, "Do something ref! Literally do anything."
"Is this not what quidditch is supposed to be?" Dora asks, because truth be told she can't tell what moves are legal and which ones Kingsley has issue with.
"No, I've never seen so many illegal moves!" Kingsley explains, "It's all about strategy not brutal opportunism."
"That guy just sneezed blood." Dora says, pointing into the pitch where Gryffindor just received a quick elbow to the nose.
"And that guy's arm is broken." Dora points at someone else, another Gryffindor, who was being escorted off pitch by another of his team mates as a Slytherin chaser cheers from behind them, holding the quaffle up like a trophy.
"Only because that brute of a Slytherin chaser cobbed him!"
"Cobbed him?" Dora asked. She'd expected some culture shocks, but a whole new language?
"Cobbing. It's a foul," Kingsley explains, "Using too much elbow."
"That's ridiculous." Dora says, how can using your elbow too much even be a rule? This game is weird.
"Exactly! Ridiculous! And they just let it happen!" Kingsley rants, "No warning or anything! Absolutely ridiculous!"
"That's not what I meant." Dora says, but Kingsley doesn't hear her, he's too busy rambling on about how the ref must be blind.
