Train ride. Mo somehow crammed his broom up above the seats before deciding that was a terrible thing to do to the broom. It came back down and got a special seat of its very own, and Mo stretched out on the seat across from said broom. Now this... this was traveling in style.

He gazed out the window at Hogsmeade station, wondering if he should have made specific plans to meet people in a specific car. Vague terms could mean he'd spend the ride home making small talk with his broom. Which wasn't bad, necessarily, only brooms weren't known for their conversational skills.

Surely someone would find him, and hopefully that someone was his favorite.