The double doors opened with a yawn. A smooth, uniform glow spread out across a vast and mostly empty gallery, inviting them to step inside. The polished floor resembled an enormous backgammon board with narrow triangles of painted wood pointing inwardly from the walls, all aiming at an elegant black runner that stretched the length of the room. Fred and George almost felt guilty walking on it with their ratty shoes. The room was impressive, and yet it confused them. It didn't seem interesting in the slightest. In fact, there wasn't much to look at beyond a few paintings and sculptures.

"Have we taken a wrong turn?" George wondered aloud.

"Not at all."

Lee directed them toward a sculpture in white marble of a man on a long broomstick. Based on his outfit, he was a Quidditch player. Up close, the twins were able to conclude that he was a Seeker, by his frozen posture and the fact that he was reaching for a hovering Golden Snitch, also in white marble, that was just out of reach.

Rupert hid his eyes as Lee climbed the statue nimbly, knowing just where to find a foothold until he was able to reach the winged ball. He looked back expectantly at the twins and moved the ball into the player's hand. At once, the sculpture slid from its position, revealing a hidden flight of steps bathed in torchlight.

"Brilliant!" Fred roared.

His voice resonated through the room as Lee held fast to the Seeker's arm and swung to safety. Angelina and George were peeking into the cavity in the floor when Rupert suddenly hurdled over their heads and hastened down the stairs.

"Spineless devils! You get back here at once!" he shouted before vanishing around a bend in the stairwell.

The four of them rushed down the steps after Rupert and soon found themselves standing in a second gallery with a much lower ceiling, surrounded by rows of glass display cases coiling with luminous protection spells. Rupert was darting in and out, chasing a creature half his size.

"I wish we could afford a house elf," Fred said fondly.

George nodded enthusiastically. "How many do you have, Lee? Must need dozens with a house like this."

"There's just the one," Lee responded to their shock, as Rupert skated past them. He corralled the creature at the bottom of the stairs and produced a small net from his robe. Moments later he was snaring a second. "Traps must be full, eh?"

"I emptied them two days ago, Master Lee," said Rupert. He held the net up to his eyes and frowned. "They must be breeding in the boathouse again."

"Traps? Hold on just a second," said Angelina in a pained voice. The creatures inside the net wriggled around to face her. Angelina's eyes softened at the sight of their fluffy black fur, lovable expressions, and formidably long snouts. "What do you think you're doing to those poor creatures?"

"Poor creatures?" the house-elf replied. "Their lot is anything but poor, young miss. Let me tell you."

Rupert flipped the net upside-down. A shower of jewelry, gems, and wizarding coins came tumbling out and rolled across the floor. The black creatures squealed as their little arms pushed through the net to grapple frantically for what continued to fall.

"Are those... Nifflers?" Fred muttered. "Never seen one."

"Yeah, we've left bait scattered around the house to catch them. The little blighters are always sneaking about. Rupert is clearing out the traps once a week these days."

"Like us with garden gnomes," said George.

"Little thieves," Rupert complained.

Angelina bent at the knees and smiled at them. "I think they're cute!"

"You'll be singing a different tune when you find 'em creeping round your bedroom in the dead of night — probing your cupboard for the gift your uncle just owl'd for your birthday. You're lucky you've never had to deal with Nifflers. They've ruined nearly every Christmas."

"You haven't seen our house," said Fred bluntly. "I don't think we'll ever have a Niffler problem."

"We usually find one or two of them passed out down here. Once they get zapped."

"I don't like hearing that, Lee," Angelina said out of the side of her mouth.

After Rupert managed to wrangle up the last of the Nifflers, the five of them ambled through the gallery to stare at the impressive broomstick collection hidden behind thick glass and sparking spells.

"Whoa!" George's eyes widened. "Is this a..."

"Silver Arrow," Lee acknowledged slowly. "Super rare, that."

"Aren't they all rare?" Fred asked with a laugh.

"Is it true these are individually made by hand?" Angelina hummed, her nose inches from the glass.

"Yeah, the Silver Arrow and the Firebolt. The original Firebolt flying broom was made for a single season in 1910. Production was down for decades on the Arrow. Then it was started  up again six years ago." Lee lifted his head, looking prideful. "Ours is the last. From the originals, that is."

"What do you mean?"

"They were all lost during the Rebellion. At least, that's how my father describes it," Lee continued. "Grindelwald had them destroyed — along with some other broom types. Must not have liked the fact that someone could outrun him." Fred and George were looking closer at the levitating broomstick. "Only a few Silver Arrows are produced each year, always by the same wizard. That's what makes them so rare. No one knows the man. Dad thinks it's the Gallant Sorcerer. That sort of began our obsession of him, actually. They're dead expensive. Finest brooms money can buy. Better than dragons when you get them in the clouds."

"Have you flown it?" Angelina asked.

"Never. No one in my family has. It was down here during the Rebellion. Dad says that Grindelwald killed you on sight if you were still in possession of a Silver Arrow. It meant you were Muggle sympathizers."

"Well... a lot of good they're doing you behind glass," Fred said with a sigh. "Not as if Grindie's a threat anymore, is he?"

George was suddenly gasping. "Bloody hell, is that a magic carpet?!"

He rushed toward the display case on the wall, where a shabby Moroccan rug with gold tassels was hovering behind rippling cords of green and blue light.

"It is! There are only seven in existence. Believed to have once belonged to Ael Haddin, but who knows. Dad paid a fortune for it. I swear it doesn't even fly."

Light flooded the gallery as Rupert opened a set of doors leading into a second chamber where Quidditch outfits were on display, including robes from every team over the last century. Beside these, lying on a bed of green felt, were numerous sets of Quidditch balls, Bludger bats, and torn tickets.

"That's the Golden Snitch from the forty-five Quidditch World Cup. And... there's the Quaffle from that game in eighty-one where the Keeper disappeared for an entire week."

"Disappeared?"

"If you haven't noticed, Angelina," George began. "Quidditch is extremely difficult. And dangerous."

"Doesn't look that difficult to me."

George snorted. "There are two spots opening on the team. Why don't you tryout?"

"Maybe I will," she said with a glare. "Or are you afraid I'll steal all the glory?"

"The only thing I'd be afraid of... is losing the hearing in one ear from your constant screams of terror."

Their little spat was interrupted by Rupert rushing over to stop Lee from showing Fred a set of Bludgers that were sitting in a crate on a table across the room, beside an unusual leather arm brace.

"Master Werner would not approve, Master Lee. It's jinxed, you know."

"Oh, it's all right, Rupert. Fred and George are Beaters for the house team." He raised an eyebrow at Fred. "You'll love this, actually."

The multitude of vintage broomsticks didn't seem nearly as special to them anymore as they watched Lee fit his right arm into the leather brace. He slowly slipped his fingers into the knuckle straps and eyed the series of threaded shirt buttons, spaced out like a constellation, across the top of the arm brace. He tapped on them in succession with the fingers of his left hand, while flicking the fingers of his right in the knuckle straps.

Then, to their amazement, the Bludgers burst from the crate and hovered in the air in front of them. Fred and George instinctively reached for the bats in the crate, but Lee held them back.

"Watch this..."

With a few finger gestures, the Bludgers took flight. They soared through the room, spinning just out of reach of the twins.

"I suggest you exhibit some self-control, Master Lee," Rupert warned worriedly.

"So... you're controlling the flight path," Angelina marveled.

"And the velocity. It's a training device. The Captain of the Gimbi Slayers gifted it to me. He thought I could make for a good Beater if I got enough practice." The four of them ducked as the Bludger came speeding at their heads. "Dad wouldn't let me use it, though. He only hired the Captain to teach me how to fly. Doesn't want me on the team. Probably thinks it'll lead to low marks."

"Master Lee..."

"Why is it Jinxed?" asked George.

"Ministry made these illegal a few years back. Mum and Dad don't want me smuggling them to Hogwarts, so they put an Irrevocable Jinx on them over the summer. If they leave the room, I get boils on my face or something nasty. My father jinxed the left one, my mother the right."

Rupert scaled the desk and caught one of the Bludgers before it could smash into the trophy cases. It wiggled in his grasp as he stuffed it back into the chest.

"A jinx doesn't stop them from causing destruction, mind you! And Master Lee should not speak ill of his father. Master Werner cherishes you."

"Well, he has a strange way of showing it," Lee grumbled, as he bent his arm and wiggled his fingers to make the second Bludger pick up speed.

"As do elves. But you must show respect," Rupert admonished, before diving to catch the other ball. It fought back, but he managed to restrain it. "Respect is paramount, young Master.

"Sure." Lee allowed the leather brace to drop from his arm. He faced his friends. "Ready for more?"