Jack was out for a stroll, something he very much enjoyed to do when he had things to think about. It was early evening, his favourite time to walk, and the air was surprisingly warm for Scotland. Right after him hovered
Zero, who
had showed up just a few minutes ago, nose aglow and tongue hanging out of his mouth. He barked repeatedly and jumped up on Jack, wishing to play.
Absentmindedly Jack reached in underneath his suit, and with a faint cracking sound he broke off one of his ribs.
"Here boy," he called out to Zero, and then he hurled the rib as far as he could.
Zero zoomed off, barking in utter delight.
While the dog was off searching for the rib, Jack walked around the Quidditch pitch. He investigated the goal posts with great interest, and took vast steps from seat to seat on the stands. He must remember to ask someone about those strange hoops, as he did not recognize them from any sport he had ever seen children play, dead or alive.
Zero proudly returned with the rib in his mouth, and Jack crouched down to pet him.
"Good boy, Zero," he murmured.
((Feel free to bother Jack and Zero in their game; Zero would be more than happy at a new play-mate!))