A Little Quidditch Match

Standing beside Ron, Luo Bin stared grimly at the Broomstick.

It was woven from the cheapest enchanted bamboo. Ron had just sanded it down, but splinters still stuck out everywhere. He had to wear gloves, or his hands would be shredded.

Only a few sparse bamboo twigs remained at the end of the broom. Even a street sweeper would have admired its owner's dedication.

It belonged in the Magical Item Junkyard!

"Ron, are you sure that broom can fly?"

"Of course. The shopkeeper said it retired honorably because it was old, unlike the others, which ended up at the Gold Rush Shop because they broke down!"

Ron mounted the Broomstick. A few puffs of white smoke sputtered out, and it rose into the air in a series of lurches. Ron saw nothing wrong with the old broom. He waved excitedly for George to pass him the ball.

Luo Bin looked up at George, who hovered in midair with a black ball in his palm. From its pattern, it looked like a volleyball. Whoever had painted it black had apparently run out of patience; orange and white patches showed all over it.

"Ron, let's get the rules straight first. A successful shot with the Quaffle is worth one point!"

George pointed to a "hoop" formed by the crossing branches of two distant trees.

"I could recite the Weasley family Quidditch Match rules backward. Hurry up! I can't wait!"

"Keep your eye on the ball, dear brother!"

George swung his arm sharply to the right, and Ron rushed that way. But it was a feint. George raised his arm high and hurled the ball left.

"Aha! Ron's a big idiot!"

"George is a pest!"

Ron grumbled as he gave chase. Fred zipped alongside him, flying shoulder to shoulder to block his path.