"Yes", Ama had said at once when her friend Marcy had suggested this most unexpected diversion. "Yes, let's do it!" Ama had never been to an international Quidditch match in all fifty-five years of her otherwise eventful life, and that was precisely the reason why she agreed to it. And so Marcy, whose son worked at the Ministry, was able to procure them some much sought-after tickets, and it wasn't long before she and Ama found themselves surrounded by much younger folks as they took their seats, snacking on pumpkin pops and gasping with great aplomb as the game began.

Somewhere in the vicinity of half way through, Ama and Marcy finally figured out which side they were supposed to be supporting — though Ama was content simply to cheer for all the female players. It was during one particularly uproarious cheer that her hat fell off, knocked over Marcy's little flask of blackberry wine, and left Marcy with a tremendous stain all over the front of her white blouse.

"Marcy! I'm so sorry!" she stifled a laugh. "I'll fix it, not to worry..."

Ama raised three fingers gracefully and pointed them at her friend's blouse (for she was a practitioner of wandless magic), but such was the noise of their surroundings and the buzzing atmosphere, the fog of blackberry wine, the laughter she was failing to stifle... her incantation went awry, and her simple cleaning charm became two live bats clinging to Marcy's top. As Marcy hopped between panic and enormous amusement, a handsome young authority figure chose this moment to turn up in a state of gruff concern.

Tears of hilarity collecting in her eyes, Ama turned to face him, and explained; "I'm terribly sorry sir, I seem to have turned my friend's bosoms into bats."