Ron and Harry ran with the crowd out of the castle, and sure enough, they saw that troublesome little girl streaking through the sky like lightning. Every now and then, the air carried the sound of her laughter, like silver bells compressed by the wind.
"Wow, she's fast!"
"Is that the Firebolt?"
"I can barely see her..."
"Is that the Firebolt?"
Then Harry, who had stopped with the crowd and was craning his neck to follow the figure, couldn't help exclaiming again and again.
"I, I don't know either..."
"But it looks like it?"
Ron scratched his head. He wanted to say that he didn't know much about it, but his pride stopped him.
"I know!"
"That's the broom used in all official Quidditch matches. It's the finest racing broom in the world, a testament to the highest level of craftsmanship."
"Its handle is made of ash, carefully crafted into a sleek, elegant shape and treated with a polish as hard as diamond. Every twig on its tail has been hand-selected to achieve perfect streamlining, making it unrivaled in balance and precision."
"They say the Firebolt can accelerate to 150 miles per hour in ten seconds, and its braking charm is simply magnificent. It's the broom every Quidditch player dreams of owning, and the one used in all official international Quidditch matches."
"Compared to that..."
"Potter, the Nimbus 2000 in your hands looks like a clumsy old fool."
It was Malfoy, from Slytherin, who had spoken. When he looked at the broom in Harry's hands, a flicker of envy crossed his face, but it soon turned into smugness.
Now that someone else had a better broom, he naturally couldn't pass up the chance to mock Harry and Ron!
"But you don't even have a decent broom!"
"Harry's got a Nimbus