Richard nodded and stood, then knocked three times on the table top. "Cleanup and wash, please." Covers went back onto serving dishes, and they, and the table settings lifted and headed for the door to the kitchen, which opened to admit them.
"Young sir, this is not Quidditch. This will be test riding and flying lessons, both of which I have more than a little experience with. At speeds over 75, a flapping bit of cloth can flail against you like a whip. Not to mention the extra pads and protection, should you suffer a mischance practicing a new technique close to the ground. I would hardly want to have to report to your father that you were injured because I let you go up without proper protective measures."
It was a simple enough combination of spells; Summon and Banish. Something he had learned during his days with the Resistance, when a rapid change of appearance and clothing was required. Banish what he was wearing, at the same time Summon his racing leathers and helmet. The trick was all in the timing, so you weren't standing about in your knickers in between. From one step to the next, he was in his Blue and Gold leathers and heavy black boots. His racing helmet, very similar in appearance to a motorcyclist's helmet, popped out of thin air in front of him, and he caught it in cradled arms. His heavy padded jacket had 'Bluebottle' across the chest, and 'Summerby' across his shoulders on his back. And yes, it was showing off a bit, but it was a clever little piece of magic when it worked as it should. Practice made perfect.
"I have a similar set for you in your house colors out in my broom workshop. I sized them big, but they will tailor themselves to you - just touch your wand to the belt buckle on the pants and say, 'Fit me'. In addition, when the visor is closed on your helmet, it will be linked with mine, so we can converse normally, without having to shout back and forth at each other.
"There's nothing wrong with a bit of fear, my friend. Especially when you are riding right on the edge of control. Courage is when you go ahead and go all in anyway. If you would please, follow me."
They collected Arcturus' brooms from the rack in the office, and Rich led the way to a door at the end of the house. A small garden and walkway led to what used to be a greenhouse. "I'm pants at herbology. I have gardeners come out once a week and tend to the grounds around the house. This seemed the ideal place for a broom shop instead. A bonus is all the glass that lets me look at the sky while I tinker." The greenhouse was larger than expected for a private residence; the former abode of a dedicated horticulturist. Inside were work tables, tools and equipment for building brooms from scratch, and rack after rack of mostly new brooms. "I thought I would start you out on this Nimbus 2000," he continued as he pulled the broom from a rack near the door. "Good production broom, stable enough to use every day, maneuverable enough to be competitive on the pitch, tops out about 120. I'll warm it and my short track broom up while you get changed. Loo is back there, your leathers and helmet are hanging up ready for you."