The entrance hall was cold and silent this early in the morning. Above the Great Hall entrance, the newly conjured navy curtains shook in a nonexistent wind. The hissing emanating from behind it was faint but audible. She wondered if that was the goal of Wi-Fi: to slowly drive her insane with the noise of it. Sariah wiped the sleep out of her eyes, and followed after Britta.

Britta frowned at the concealed snakes as they walked past. "I hate that it's still there."

"Me too," Sariah agreed. "If there was a garage anywhere nearby, I'd buy a spray can and cover them up. Wouldn't even care if I got caught."

"I wonder why they haven't tried that?"

She shrugged. "Probably didn't occur to them."

The Griffin on Britta's shirt reared and flapped its wings as she pushed open the castle's large, oak door. They set a course to the quidditch pitch. Despite the events of Valentine's day, Sariah was quietly impressed that Britta still watched the Hufflepuff team practices.

Grass thick with frost cracked underneath their boots; it was white, with trails of green where the quidditch team had already broken it. Sariah stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets. The sun hadn't made it over the mountains yet, and the sloping hills looked like frozen ocean waves. She felt her stomach tense in anticipation as the quidditch pitch grew closer. Hopefully. She thought, sending as many good vibes into the atmosphere as possible. Hopefully. She'd find the car and workshop.

"I'm surprised you, of all people, want to come along," Britta chatted happily. "It's really nice to have some company though. When did you come down here last?"

"It's been a while," Sariah said.

"Oh, I know," Britta said, after pausing for a beat. "It was in our third year, when Louis asked you to come and watch him play. Didn't you have a crush on him?"

"If I did, it didn't survive the match," Sariah said. "He wouldn't speak to me after that."

"He got knocked out by a bludger within the first five minutes," Britta recalled. "His nose absolutely fountained blood. It was really gross." She shuddered.

"Yes, apparently my mere presence jinxed his game."

Britta giggled. "He should've been watching the game instead of you, then." She stumbled on a frosted stepping stone. "Our team's training has been a bit glum lately, maybe seeing another supporter will cheer them up."

Sariah nodded. "Maybe."

Britta whistled an unrecognizable melody into the wind.

As they neared the pitch, she saw Morgan kick off from the ground. The Hufflepuff chaser careened into the air, her yellow robes fluttering in the air like a canary. Sariah scanned the pitch left to right, anxious to track down the workshop. If it even existed. She thought, frowning at the quidditch stands.

"Are you feeling alright?" Britta asked.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine," Sariah replied. "I really want to take a full tour of the pitch before tomorrow. Might as well start with the outside of the stands."

"But, you'll miss watching the practice!" Britta protested.

"Don't worry, I won't be too long. I'll come and find you on the pitch when I'm done." Sariah turned her back to Britta, trying not to feel too hideously guilty about ditching Britta.

The quidditch stands were massive. They flanked the entirety of the pitch and arced impossibly into the air like battlements. Tomorrow, virtually the whole school would turn out, along with a crowd of enthusiastic Hogsmeade punters. Without their cheers, it was eerily quiet, as if the pitch was only half there.

This was where she had re-learned how to drive last September. Privately, she thought the could manage a clutch better than their squib teacher. Sariah hoped beyond reason that the practice car would be stored nearby. Somewhere like the back of the quidditch stands, for example.The sun has just crested over the mountains. As she snuck past the door to the opposition changing rooms, the castle disappeared from view. The forest flanked her left, with the stands to her right. Sariah's breath came in white clouds. Her footprints crunched through the icy grass. It was more than not stealthy.

A wind hissed through the forest canopy. Sariah shivered and ran her gaze over the trees. On the third side of the stadium, furthest from the castle, she found a small garage-like structure installed within the base of the stands. Sariah smiled. The roll-up door was a bit of a giveaway, she thought wryly. There was also a regular door with a narrow window to the side of it. Eagerly, she pressed her nose against the narrow window, but couldn't make out anything through the glass, even after casting Lumos.

Tomorrow, the quidditch pitch would be swarming with people from dusk till dawn, it had to be today. As she wrapped her fingers around the doorknob, her stomach squirmed slightly. This was breaking and entering. Lying for Scorpius was one thing, but if she got caught, her parents would be so ashamed. A padlock held the door closed.

Above, she could hear players swooping overhead in dizzying agility patterns. How they didn't slide off amazed her. She was paralyzed by the possibility of collision and catastrophe. A car was different: it had seat-belts, airbags, automated steering. On a broomstick, you had your head and your wand, and Sariah only trusted one of those.

"Sariah?"

She heard Britta calling, and jogged to meet her before she turned the corner.

Britta looked particularly downtrodden. "Ethan's still not at practice. He's our best shot of beating Slytherin tomorrow, and he hasn't turned up yet. If we lose tomorrow, it's all Olivia's fault."

"You can't blame losing a quidditch match on the Head Girl," Sariah pointed out.

Britta sighed indignantly. "Of course I can! All the evidence is there. Since Ethan started going out with her, if he's not late to practice, he's been all goofy and distracted. I bet it's a ploy to knock us out of the tournament. Plus, they make googly eyes at each other through every single meal. I hate her."

Sariah looked in the direction Britta was staring. Two figures - one in yellow robes, the other in navy - were walking down to the pitch at a leisurely pace.

"Let's go," she said to Britta. "No point losing our toes in this cold."

Britta gave her a look that indicated she'd happily lose every single one of her toes - cut them off herself, even - if it gained her Ethan's affection.

They made it back to the castle, Sariah gratefully rubbing her hands together in the warmth. The arch hissed when she passed under it. A can of paint would probably do the trick, she thought glumly, that, or a sledgehammer. It was a shame she didn't have either.

**

Friday passed anxiously. She couldn't even concentrate in the morning Muggle Studies class, as she'd not read the book of the week (Salmon Fishing for Beginners). When there was an hour's sunlight remaining, she returned to the quidditch pitch, taking the path bordering the forest. She scowled as she noticed Slytherin practicing. 

Sariah pulled her hood up, so its yellow lining wouldn't be quite as visible from above. She watched their emerald robes rise in sharp formation above the pitch. They looked like an older team, of mostly sixth and seventh years. Worryingly, they looked more skillful than her team: moving faster, and in more dangerous, death-defying zig-zags. In sequence, they did corkscrewing loops.

Britta had informed her that morning that the match tomorrow would determine who would take out second place in the Quidditch Cup. They were vying for second place because Gryffindor consisted of a tribe of Weasleys and Potters who had been flying before they could walk. It hardly seemed fair.

She beelined out to the back of the quidditch stands. The door to the garage greeted her with the same squirming she'd felt that morning. All day she'd practiced unlocking everything from toilet stalls, to her trunk, and then bravely, a locked classroom she'd found on the way to Transfiguration.

Part of her wondered idly if Jerome had figured out how to pick locks yet. They'd watched a few Youtube videos and broken a few of his mother's hairpins last summer trying. Sariah pushed the thought out.

She twisted the doorknob hopefully, but it didn't give. A padlock held the door shut. Sariah twirled her wand and mimed the movement. An eleven-year-old could do this, she chastised herself. Muster up some magic already. She imagined the outcome. A tire pump, a moving car, freedom. A feeling of warmth gathered in her. She pointed her wand to the padlock: "Alohamora.'

To her pleasant disbelief, there was a rusty squeak as the padlock loosed. She pocketed it. It deserved a witchy cackle, Sariah thought. Only she was in espionage mode, so instead, she was the Wicked Witch of the West, cackling away at her criminal descent into crime.The door creaked, opening into near blackness. Part of her would scarcely believe what she was about to do. I'm borrowing, she reminded herself. Not stealing. Technically."L-lumos."

Her yellow wandlight brought a nostalgic glow to the room. For a moment it felt like home: it resembled a typical garage. A silver car was parked facing the garage's roll-up door. She didn't dare touch it, scared of whatever the magical equivalent of a car alarm was. Maybe a troll under contract? A pack of vicious bowtruckles? A rabid niffler? Who knew, with wizards?

A simple metal workbench lined the back of the garage, with drawers and containers stacked against the left and right walls. Sariah sifted through the contents of them, trying to be paradoxically fast and quiet. She checked all the places her father would store an air pump, looking for gas cylinders, tubes, or winches that might reveal the air pump's location.

Her breath sounded unbelievably loud. She rifled through a set of beautiful spanners. Air freshener. The keys to the Hogwarts car. A can of CRC84. Her fingers brushed over the contents. With effort, she closed the drawers again against temptation. Don't get greedy, she told herself. You only need the tyre pump.

Then, footsteps.

Adrenaline jolted through Sariah. "Nox., she squeaked, her voice shaking.

The room slipped into darkness. She dropped into a crouch next to the workbench. In the doorway, she saw not one, but two dewey sets of footprints leading into the garage. Sariah's heart pounded. She'd been so careful. She hadn't seen a soul on her way down. What would her parents think? They might accidentally out the Anglia to someone, and she'd spend the rest of her days in Azkaban, as a witchy felon. Just another criminal who got caught. The Witch of the West probably didn't see it coming either. Sariah thought bitterly.

She looked around the room, eyes slowly adjusting. Where was this mystery second person? A teacher or prefect would have said something by now.

"Lumos," she cast. She stood up, backing towards the door. Maybe there was someone hiding behind the car? "I know you're in here, this isn't funny."

What if it was something from the forest, and not a student, after all?

Should she follow the footprints to their owner? They grew fainter and fainter, ceasing in front of the car. Just meters away from her. Sariah shivered. She stood, unmoving, staring at the empty space. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she felt something staring back.

She guessed where the shoelaces would be, quickly cast the shoelace charm, hoping it was a student, and not some invisible monster, or crazed shoeless maniac. Then took a deep breath and rushed forward towards it.

This had the intended effect. The owner of the shoelaces took a step, and tripped with a loud "Shit!"

She heard them fall, but before she could identify them, a beam of light exploded in front of her. Sariah shielded her eyes. The light dipped after a few seconds.

She squinted at James Potter, tucking what looked to be a handkerchief back into his pocket. He stood up. "So, you're breaking into school classrooms now. That's quite the progression from Hogsmeade, isn't it?"

For the first time, Hogwarts felt small. How could she not see someone for five years, and then run into them so consistently?

"What are you doing down here? Did you- follow me down here? That's seriously creepy, you know." Sariah said accusingly. "Were you just- invisible?" Her mind jumped to how isolated this garage was from the rest of Hogwarts. The Slytherin team would help her if she got into trouble, right?

"I'm not answering anything first," he said, taking a step forward. His shoelaces pulled taut against each other again. He stumbled over, landing on the car and barely managing to remain upright.

"Nice one," he grunted. "Effective. Well, what are you doing down here?" He re-tied his shoes with his boot on the bonnet of the car.

Sariah crossed her arms, hoping her face wouldn't betray the lies she was about to tell. At least they seemed to be easier and easier these days. "I- uh- wanted to see what the shop class looked like. For next year." She gestured to the spotless silver car. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"He. His name is Rufus," James said. "So what, you wanted to take him for a joy ride? I wouldn't recommend it. I'm not a prefect for that exact reason."

"I wasn't going to drive - Rufus," Sariah said. "Cars should be named after women, by the way."

"On whose authority?"

"Everybody's. Jeremy Clarkson's. My dad's. Mine."

"Phhf- you're a terrible liar. No one likes shop class enough to break into it. What are you actually up to?" he asked, with an odd wiggle of the eyebrow. "Are you meeting someone? Spying on Slytherin?"

"Nothing like that. That's probably what you're doing though. Spying and snooping about like Nancy Drew."

"Someone painted that stupid symbol," he said resolutely. "And that someone is flying laps on the quidditch pitch right now."

"So, you brought what, a magnifying glass and finger dusting kit?"

She recoiled as he dangled a pair of fleshy ears in front of her. "Not quite. This is a good spot actually, it's close to the Slytherin changing rooms."

"Those are disgusting."

"Extendable ears: vintage model. Extra long," he said, making a suggestive face. "I borrowed them from my uncle."

He stood on the bench, and began threading an ear up to the roof. The hairy ear wriggled up the wall and into the roof like a caterpillar. "If you don't want to be followed, then you shouldn't keep turning up in such interesting places. People will think you're up to something."

"I'm honestly not up to anything," she lied, cursing under her breath.

 It didn't look like he was going to leave. Then she saw the bicycle suspended hanging across the wall. She knew she'd struck gold because where there was a bicycle, there'd be- There. A foot pump, nestled into the wall. It wasn't ideal, but it would do. She couldn't help the grin that broke out across her face.

"That's what you broke in for? You want to joy ride a bicycle? Man, you're lame, Hufflepuff."

"That's not it!" Sariah protested. She instantly wanted to kick herself. She'd denied a perfectly plausible excuse because she didn't want to be thought of as lame. 

"I'm actually-" she scanned the room, as James twisted the ear discontentedly as if he was trying to tune it. Her eyes settled on some paint cans, and she smiled.

"Ach, too much muggle tech in the room," he muttered. He tapped on the receiving ear, "Come on, baby."

Sariah moved across to the wall. She gripped the tire pump in her right hand, slipping it under her cloak nonchalantly. Her heart bulleted in her chest.

She flinched as James jumped down from the table. "Too much interference," he said, winding the hideous, wriggling ears up like headphones.

"I was looking for paint, to vandalize the Wi-Fi symbol," Sariah said. "Yeah, that's what I'm doing here. But even if I found some, I don't have any way of getting up there. You'd have to fly or something."

He shot her a look of something she guessed might be admiration. "Now that's the best idea I've heard in a while. Hm-" he paused. "You shouldn't be wandering around by yourself with what's going down. Especially around Slytherins, it's like a mouse in a, well, a snake nest."

"Yeah," Sariah said.

"One more thing, I wasn't here tonight, and neither were you," he said, "and I definitely didn't borrow this can of paint."

With that, he left, a scarlet can of paint in one hand.

Sariah locked the padlock after them. She couldn't be sure he had actually gone, however. The foot pump was clenched tightly in her hand, leeching the warmth out of it. Sariah had planned to spend the last of the light delivering the pump to the Anglia. But he could still be following her now, with whatever invisibility charm he'd used. She glanced back down the hill.

Interesting places, she mused. She was willing to bet that the Forbidden Forest definitely counted as one of those places. She'd go tomorrow, Sariah decided. That meant keeping the pump for the weekend, but surely no one would miss it.

It started raining. She was paranoid she'd find a second pair of footsteps following her when she reached the Great Hall. She turned into the staircase, and waited for a long time, but saw no other footprints appeared. Flour, she thought. A bag of flour and some water ought to do the trick. Maybe her parents would send her some.

***

Safe in her dormitory, and with the tire pump securely in her trunk, Sariah could barely sleep. If all went well, the Anglia would be drivable. Fragile and rusted, but drivable. She already had a playlist ready to go for tomorrow: The Final Countdown, Eye of the Tiger, things her parents played ironically in the workshop, like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and some of the Spiderman: Homecoming soundtrack.

Tomorrow was the day. Sariah rolled over in bed. It felt like Christmas and Easter had come early. Not that her family celebrated either of the holidays. Still, anything that meant she could go home was a blessing. The April holiday was two months away, and she was already counting down the days. Then, the month after that... the OWLS. She already felt squeezed between their academic talons.