Harry's Little Broom Passion

As I strut off along the corridor, I am frequently asked about my plans for the day. Of course, I always shake my head and give the same simple reply. "I’m off to the Quidditch field."

This may seem like a typical reply from a Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain such as myself, but there is really so much more to this hobby of mine. In fact, this riding of broomsticks has become a great passion of mine , ever since I first took hold of one in my first year. Looking back, I’ve had my share of broomsticks over the past few years. They have come and gone. Most have grown droopy and overused. Subsequent to their arrival and departure, most have left me crying on the pitch, taking a handful of the dark and morbid earth, clinging on so that I would not fall from existence. When considering all of these fine brooms, only one has proven it's loyalty to me. Indeed, my newest and finest broomstick, Pedro. He is a fine flier and likes it rough. He has thrown me off on countless occasions and left me throbbing on the floor, my heart beating to the tempo of his swiftness. When I ride him, the experience makes me feel as if there is no tomorrow, and there was no yesterday. All that matters to me is the steady manner in which he rushes and thrusts forward, causing breaths of air to massage my temples. He often squirms beneath me, unable to keep up with the intense velocity in which we are traveling at.

I laugh as these thoughts invade my mind and reach my shivering fingers into my pocket to take out a pair of ruffled Quidditch gloves. I slip them onto my hands as they slide on perfectly. They mold to the shape of every crevice of my coarse hands. I look up into the clouds and they are drifting by carefully, minding their own business. Perfect weather for flying. I look down at Pedro and take in short gasps of air as I mount him. He is long and hard and I take a minute to feel his texture. I step off with my foot as we travel above the ground, and near the clouds. Slowly, and at an even tempo we ascend up into the air. We begin to move at a faster pace, as he fidgets from left to right. Pedro begins to change temperature from the altitude and the overall excitement of the enthralling experience. We begin to reach a higher and higher level as we rocket above the ground. Faster and faster speeds Pedro. We finally reach the area above the clouds and I can finally feel Pedro burst beneath me, alarmed by the speeds that his structure is barely built to handle. My alluring broomstick wriggles beneath my weight as we begin to slow down . Down, down we fall descending to the ground. My feet once again touch damp earth and I wipe the sweat beads from my forehead with the back of my hand. My broomstick falls to the ground, as I do I with it, taking a handful of grass. I lay panting from all the pleasure the generous ride supplied me with as I rest the side of my face on Pedro’s bristles. Oh, how intense the love I posess for Quidditch.