"Hey Belle. Its been a while, I guess. How're you holding up?" James' mouth curled into a genuine smile, a rare sight for the book-obsessed young man.
"Very well. We have two chasers, our keeper and our Seeker. We need to practice as a team though, so, I guess, for now anyways, we'll have our keeper man the goal posts, while Ginerva and I quarry the quaffle. Belle, what do you usually do during your practice?" James was no coach, nor was he an expert on the sport of Quidditch. But he knew that if no one was willing to take the leadership role at this point, then he would need to take command. He had, after all, called out the practice. James gingerly opened the Quidditch Chest he had been loaned by the Games Master.
James grasped the quaffle, his fingers gripping the leathery ball. Its structure and weight felt oddly unbalancing in his hand. He half-tossed, half-lugged the ball to Ginevra. It was an alright throw. Once James freed up his Alchemic Arm, his aim would be greatly enhanced. Until then, he had to rely upon the disregarded muscle of his real left arm. James made a mental note to give exercising a shot. He boarded his broom, and, much to his surprise, found it quick reasonable. He gripped the neck of the wood, and willed it to rise. It did.
Maybe things wouldn't be so bad this time.