Many of Hogwarts' teaching brooms are battered, their twigs stick out at awkward angles, their handles assure splinters in awkward places. Some are nicer, newer, ridden gently.

The first-years' eagerness to fly sputters to a halt….

Until they notice one broom: gently worn, still smooth and crafted with precision. Some boys drool, clenching their fists, - preparing to fight for that broom.

Something else about it makes Ron look twice.

Not the sleekness, smoothness; not style…

But the wood itself.

Soft, supple and exactly the color of Hermione's eyes.

That's just as it should be, obviously.
It is witch's hazel.