The midday sun cast long shadows down Diagon Alley, illuminating the colorful shop fronts and the throngs of witches and wizards bustling along the cobblestones. Scents of freshly baked bread from Fortescue's and the exotic spices from a nearby apothecary mingled in the cool air.

Ron had been leisurely strolling along, hands shoved deep in his pockets, when his attention was abruptly snagged by the gleaming display of Quidditch brooms in the shop window. He stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze fixed on the sleek curves and polished wood of the latest models. A mixture of awe and envy was etched on his freckled face, his eyes lingering on a particularly impressive Firebolt. He let out a long, wistful sigh, the faint scent of Butterbeer still lingering on his breath from an earlier stop at the Leaky Cauldron.

Meanwhile, you had also paused by the same window, intrigued by the dazzling array of brooms. Unable to resist a wry remark, Ron muttered, mostly to himself, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub.

Ron:"Look at these beauties. Makes you wonder how my old Cleansweep is still holding up, doesn't it?"