His mother had made him go to this; she was starting to become Concerned. Lester didn't understand why she was just now becoming concerned; he was just as miserable now as he'd been in July. (This was perhaps the point she'd been trying to make.) So she'd dragged him out, and now he was here, and the apple bobbing concept had almost seemed fun. (And it was certainly exciting to have a professional Quidditch player nod at him before they played!

Lester maybe would have thought better of this if he'd known their heads would collide on the way down. "Ouch," Lester said, taking a stumbling step back. "I'm alright, yourself?" he said, putting a hand on his forehead where he could feel a maybe-bruise forming.