Muggle sports should not be encouraged . . . unless you're a Muggle, of course. Special thanks to Miss Holly Short, without whom this would have been possible but harder.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own not Harry Potter, the Marauders, Artemis Fowl, Holly Short, Goblins, Quidditch nor rugby. Sorry if that sentence doesn't make sense. :-D

"You lot are so narrow-minded."

"Hmm?"

"I mean, it's just Quidditch Quidditch Quidditch. How about giving other sports a chance for once?"

"Other sports? Not . . . not Quidditch, you mean?" Sirius sounded shocked by the very idea. "What other sports?"

"Well, there's . . . there are Muggle sports . . ."

"Ah ha! I knew it!"

"Knew what?" James asked innocently (yeah, right).

"You know what I mean! It's Evens, isn't it. She plays a Muggle sport and you're about to tell us how great it is. Try and deny it!"

"No! I mean, yes, I mean . . . Alright. You've got me."

"Go on, then. What does Wondergirl play?"

"She . . . she plays rugby."

"What?" asked Remus incredulously. "Not meaning to be sexist or anything, but Evans? She's not exactly the, um, type, is she?"

"What?" Sirius demanded, baffled. "What's rugby? What's wrong? Tell me!"

After James and Remus had provided a very vivid explanation with much hand gesturing and detailed diagrams, Sirius was left slightly scarred and extremely confused. "But . . . a girl . . ."

It was a damn good thing for him that Holly Short was hundreds of miles away underground, or Sirius would not so much be sent home in a matchbox, as is traditional, or even an urn. Probably a 3 inch re-enforced lead-lined concrete coffin would have done the trick. As it happens, the only female who heard was (fortunately) not armed with a nuclear powered neutrino, a temper hotter than a goblin's nostrils and a handy human boy genius, but a rather large and immensely heavy book on how being a total prat really helps if you're looking for a career in the Ministry.

"Jeez, Sirius, are you all right? Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"To me?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Err . . . two?"

"OK, good enough for me."

"But . . . Prongs . . . doesn't she use up all her energy hollering at you?"

"Ha ha ha. Yes probably. Who brought this up anyway?"

"Rugby . . . she seems more the sort of girl who'd go in for tennis, or swimming perhaps."

"Yeah. Well, I'd better go see Madame Pomfrey, I think I'm concussed."

Remus and James watched him leave. "Well, I guess that proves it. Muggle sports should not be encouraged. You'll only get whacked on the head by a politics-obsessed feminist."

Or vaporized by an irritable female elf in the LEP, but they weren't to know that.