Beef and broomsticks.

As you dig into your lunch you hear the clamor of several young men. They're all carrying dark broomsticks and wearing long crimson robes. Quidditch players. Coral sneers, attempting to take more interest in her beef and potato soup. All the guys look excited, smiling and joking with each other, "Some Quidditch will be good after a long day of classes ay?" A taller blonde guy says, a badge flashes on his right shoulder, he's the captain. "You're damn right about that, I hope the first years can actually throw a fucking quaffle." A leaner looking Gryffindor replies, swinging his broomstick low.

"Jerks." Coral says into her warm golden soup. "They do something to you?" You raise an eyebrow at Coral, her tone is oddly harsh.

"All Quidditch players are the same. Arrogant, douchey, pig headed assholes who only think with their dicks." *Slurp* She's not looking you in the eye.

Too bad, you've got half a mind to attend the tryouts as well. Not only is it good exercise, but Quidditch is one of the best ways to meet rich friends and families.