Broomstick Explosion

"Whose turn is it?"

"Mine!"

Robin answered.

"Go ahead!"

"Okay!"

Robin flew fast. Three meters from the high wall, he tightened his thighs around the broomstick. At two meters, he gripped the handle harder. At one meter, he swung the broomstick into a right turn. Before the young wizards watching could make out what he had done, he had completed the turn and flown another dozen meters!

"Perfect! A beautiful turning arc. Your speed, timing, and coordination all met the standard. It was textbook-perfect—we could record it as a teaching example. Ten points to Slytherin. Next... Harry Potter, get ready!"

For Harry, a Quidditch Seeker, turning right in midair was nothing unusual. But after Robin earned points for his house with a perfect turn, the pressure on Harry doubled.

"Harry, Harry, you're up!" Ron called, leaning forward.

"Oh, right!"

Harry lined himself up with the curved high wall, adjusted his broomstick slightly, took a deep breath, and flew toward it.

He clamped his thighs tight, gripped the handle with both hands, tensed his muscles, and applied force in opposite directions. Every movement was flawless.

Halfway through the turn, an idea suddenly struck him. Stopping right after a turn is much harder than carrying on flying. If I pull it off, will Madam Hooch award Gryffindor points?

With that thought, he kept twisting the broomstick. Then... he met the same fate as Neville. No, not quite: he did not fall off.

The broomstick's tip kept banging against the wall. Harry leaned back so it would not smash into his forehead!

"Stop! Stop it! Harry, get that broomstick under control!" Madam Hooch cried anxiously.

"I... I can't control... the broomstick!"

Harry wanted it to stop too, but it clearly had ideas of its own.

"Come on, Harry! You can do it! You're