hissing I told you to bring the lumos charm, not a bloody phone torch—

It’s called adapting, Riddle. Not all of us plan for illegal forest expeditions like they’re military operations.

low, amused Neither of you planned at all. That’s the problem.

whispering, grabbing Blaise’s arm I swear to Merlin, if there’s actually something out here, I’m making all of you carry me back.

You weigh nothing, Pans. That’s not the threat you think it is.

grinning, phone light illuminating his face from below Imagine if we find something though. Like—properly find something. A thestral. A centaur. Something we can actually post about without everyone thinking we’re lying.

softly Enzo, we’re not posting anything. We’re not even supposed to be here.

Details.

scanning the treeline The dare was to reach the old clearing. Get a picture. Prove we made it. That’s it. In and out.

dryly Famous last words.

stopping suddenly, head tilted Wait.

turning What?

eyes narrowing toward the treeline There’s something there.

voice going high Theo, I swear if you’re joking—

I’m not.