"And why not? They send brooms to him in crates for certification and examination, and he is free to dispose of them as he pleases, except for sale and other commercial activity. However..."
"Advertising..." Cedric shook his head reproachfully.
"Yes! And yes again!" Herbert obviously straddled his favorite "horse," flying closer to the captain. "Swedes sent us a batch of brand new Sleipnirs. Very peculiar brooms with an ambitious name."
"And what is so special about them?"
"Will be just right for Hector," Herbert nodded confidently and tried to find the newcomer with his gaze, but he hides somewhere from the rest. Hides in the air at that. "You see yourself, he spun all flight norms around his shaft."
"Ew, don't be vulgar."
"Can't help it! You see yourself how he plays with thrust vectors on the broom! He doesn't care at all when, where, and how to distribute impulses, not even changing body position."
"I see, I see, I do that myself, but not like that... Not like that..." Cedric twirled his hand in the air, showing how "not like that."
"There! And you know that in the majority of brooms the total power of impulses, maximum thrust, and other parameters are split by vectors in different proportions. Cleanweeps are more or less universal, but rather weak and slow to respond, and the impulse is dull. Comets are better and with a more powerful impulse for acceleration along the shaft..."
"I know the characteristics of brooms, Herbert. Know perfectly well."
"Yeah, sure, and do you know the specification of the Firebolt? Not the shop one, but normal?"
Cedric was extremely interested in such information, for even he succumbed to childish enthusiasm and ran to Diagon Alley a couple of times to look at this miracle displayed in the "Quality Quidditch Supplies" window.
"I see that you don't," Herbert smirked.
"...there he is, after him!" the shout of the guys who spotted Hector reached them.
"In short, tricky thing, this Firebolt. Do you know why it is so fast?"
"Speak already, don't torment."
"Unlike others, it can transfer reserved power from the front hemisphere to the rear. Get it?"
"Hmm, and there is sense in this. Only from front to back?"
"Well, I suppose Spudmore justly decided that no one will fly broom-first in races."
The guys, it seems, simultaneously imagined such a picture, which caused smirks on their faces.
"Anyway, the Swedes either sto..."
"Herbert!"
"Stole the idea, basically, or something else, but Sleipnir can redirect even all power and impulse to one vector, or blur them over the hemisphere, or even against each other."
"Cool, of course, but who needs such a thing? Here test pilots spoke of the Firebolt as a death machine due to the necessity to clearly understand the concept of braking, or be able to turn with an Immelmann without changing altitude and distribute braking with main thrust."
"Autobrake..."
"Automarketing," Cedric waved it off. "Killing yourself on a Firebolt is a piece of cake. You either turn it on yourself, or it recognizes an obstacle. Only if the obstacle is too soft, the system doesn't see it. And doesn't see water. Have you ever fallen into water from a height? No? Do not recommend. Not much better than ground."
"Yeah, and Sleipnir is devoid of automatic correction systems altogether, which allowed increasing impulse and response speed to absurdity."
"I understood. You want the death of the new Chaser."
"No! Look," Herbert nodded toward another chase after the guy. Unsuccessful chase. "He controls not just every maneuver—every moment of flight. I can agree with the Swedes through my father..."
"Father will agree with the Swedes," Cedric nodded, causing reproach in the comrade's gaze. "Okay-okay, you will agree, fine."
"Yeah. Agree, that is, on an advertising campaign. Well, so that they provide our player with a broom on which he will win matches, being not a Seeker, but a Chaser! On goal difference! And bonuses will fly to the team, and money to Hector, and the broom for permanent use too. If victory is his at least in a couple of games of the season."
Cedric pondered, watching how Hector once again left everyone with nothing, but now not hiding, but on the contrary, spinning around other guys at ultra-close distances and not letting them aim from gloves, or interrupting the guided beam, hiding behind other players.
"And why won't you take a Sleipnir for yourself?" Cedric smirked. "As a Keeper, a broom with a good impulse in any direction would be very useful to you."
"Nah, buddy, born to crawl flies only downwards. My brains are not enough to control so many factors simultaneously, I tried," Herbert waved it off. "I can't overcome myself in this regard. Maybe in five years, and with the desire to be precisely the best Keeper..."
"Good, but let's have you pull the broom for a test flight before organizing contracts. If Hector understands its essence and agrees, then we'll talk to him. And if not—then sorry."
"Eh, I'm doing it for the team..."
"We are not Griffins, we don't play for the sake of victory."
Cedric took out his wand and applied the tip to his throat.
"Enough!" the captain's voice spread over the field.
Bewildered members of the Hufflepuff team began to fly to him. Cedric looked everyone over; the guys looked pleased and not particularly tired, although they chased each other, changing roles, for almost an hour and a half. True, Hector looked worse than everyone.
"Okay, landing at the changing rooms."
In a ragged wedge, the Hufflepuff team flew to the building doors and dismounted. Hector swayed, and attentive Cedric, who expected such a thing, immediately supported the guy by the elbow.
"How are you?"
The team's new Chaser looked exactly as pleased as everyone else, if not more, but his face and uniform abundantly flooded with sweat, as well as slight pallor, betrayed simply phenomenal fatigue.
"Normal. Just... Unusual to move so actively. And these g-forces on maneuvers."
"You held up excellently!" Herbert slapped the guy on the back, under Cedric's slight disapproval. "But need to tighten up physical condition, yes. Matches can last all day too."
"Let's go already," Cedric literally pulled Hector into the changing room, and the others followed them. "Or else missing breakfast would be the last straw."
Exhausted to zero; that is exactly how my state after these tag games in dogfight style can be described. Shower, stretching after load, shower again, breakfast; everything passed like in a fog. However, not for nothing did I establish a connection with the dimension of life energy. Besides the fact that its presence and connection with the dimension positively affects the organism passively, with volitional strengthening of its current in the body, one can obtain increased regeneration and recovery. The main thing in this matter is resources. Therefore at breakfast, food disappeared around me much faster and in larger quantities than around others. But other guys from the team were not particularly shy either, ate notably.
Sometimes at breakfast owls flew in and dropped correspondence right on students. At that, they entered the trajectory for an airstrike wonderfully professionally. I could not help but notice that huge eagle owl that I sent with a letter to parents not so long ago. This miracle bird dropped a letter to me, and then went for a second pass, dropping a letter to Hermione. It amused me that my sister didn't look at owls at all, and didn't expect correspondence in principle. As a result, the letter literally stuck with a sharp corner right into her crown, forcing her to grab her head from surprise; unlikely painful, but the surprise is notable.
I got tired of eating, time is still sufficient, and therefore I checked the letter for various magical traces, and finding nothing, opened it.
"Who is writing?" Justin sitting nearby stretched his neck, trying to peek into my letter.