"I'm one year older than you, and we graduated together," he mutters testily, but accepts the broom she shoves at him, giving it a quick once-over despite her assurances and finding it perfectly acceptable, to his mild surprise. Perhaps she really does want his help in instructing her students. What a strange thought.

He rolls his eyes as he takes a few steps away and mounts his broom. "I'd forfeit over spending the night lying on the Quidditch pitch again," he says dismissively, and kicks off to hover about fifteen feet up, pressing the broom handle between his knees and locking his ankles to free up both his hands. It's fairly basic, and not very maneuverable, but it looks impressive.

"Right. First off, if you mess about, your broom will mess you about, so don't do it." He directs a stare at a pair of students, naturally Gryffindors, who are messing about trying to press the twigs of their broomsticks into each other's faces. It takes a moment, but they stop. Good enough. "Second, each broom is a little different, but they'll still respond quite quickly to whatever movements you're making. Err on the side of caution." To emphasize the point, he shifts his weight just enough to spin the broom in midair without needing his hands. "Lean left to go left, right to go right, obviously. Forward to accelerate, lean back to stop. Everything else is just a matter of reflexes."

He looks down at Ginny, arms folded. "If you're not releasing an actual Snitch, what am I doing up here?" he asks with a little smirk.