It began with a wrong turn, as do many things in life when you get down to the essentials. States cross country. Downcast day, lots of mud, and many, many, many hard-to-see course markers splayed out across the musty, overgrown forest.

Charlotte didn't have a good track record (excuse the pun) with such things – she had won the district cross country by a mere two seconds after accidentally going 100m in the wrong direction when she failed to keep the orange flags on her left and the yellow flags on her right. She almost got run over by a car in the process – but, in hindsight, perhaps it was that extra rush of adrenaline that had got her over the line. Whatever. Today was supposed to be her day. She had gone over the course map a hundred times – hell, her coach even drew it on her hand so she wouldn't get confused.

She got off to a good start – broke away from the rest of the field early. Now she was just cruising by herself, trying to control her breathing and the motion of her arms and follow the goddamn course. Nothing – NOTHING! – seemed out of the ordinary in the slightest… Except she hadn't seen an official in a few minutes now and the map on her hand suggested she should be approaching a turning point any second now… She tried to quell the rising panic. If she could just run a little faster… Maybe if she had just goddamn stuck with geography past year 8… Played a little less tetris and learned the skill of reading a map…

Oof.

She tumbled somewhat un-gracefully over a tree root and fell into the ground. It was dizzying; the world seemed to turn upon her and swallow her up. But when she sat up again, thoroughly annoyed (if there was ever such an understatement) everything seemed normal. She just had a sore head AND WAS REALLY FUCKING ANNOYED. She jumped to her feet, brushing dirt off the large scrape on her shin, and kicked the tree root savagely with her racing flats. Unfortunately these shoes are not made for foliage destruction and, as such, the tree caused considerably more damage to her toe than she had forseen.

"MOTHERFUCKER," Charlotte screamed into the silence of the forest. A bunny rabbit appeared to look at her reproachfully. She was past caring. "Fuck you too," she spat, and broke back into a jog, muttering spiteful nonsense under her breath. "My one big chance… Who put these fucking leaves here… So much for fucking tetris…"

She tried to get back onto track but, with a panic, realised she had completely lost any sight of a marker. She ran a tiny bit further, but then decided it was past time to give up. She found a nice little rock to perch upon, and began to earnestly weep. "I just tried so hard," she sobbed, gazing up at the sky; a tantalising blue diamond peeking between the tops of pine trees above her. "I'm not cut out to get lost in a forest… I didn't listen in outdoor ed! I took two minute noodles on all the camps! I'm wearing a fucking running bra and bike shorts! If there are bears I will be eaten alive… Oh god, I can't even update my facebook status about this! Where is my mobile phone… I don't know how to build a fire…"

She thought about it some more, before announcing. "I just want to tell everyone here that, if I had to sum up my emotions right now in one word, it would be the unhappy face emoticon."

You can imagine her surprise when something in the forest answered back.

Faintly: "Maybe I don't want to do this anymore. Maybe I-"

The voice was angry. Stressed. Worried – exactly the kind of thing a runner in the middle of a race would sound like!

Her heart lept up to her throat. She sprang to her feet, ignoring the blood now gushing from her leg, and raced towards the voice. She tried to keep her pounding footsteps silent – got to sneak up on them, slyly overtake. Got to-

"You gave me your word, Severus." An old man's voice. Maybe an official? Strange name for a girl, Severus. Maybe it was some kind of in-joke between a coach and his charge. Maybe-

Charlotte broke through the clearing at full speed and stopped abruptly. Because things were really, really not how they had seemed to her in the slightest.

"Mother FUCKER," she snarled, taking off her shoe and throwing it at the ground in full force, a sob choking her voice. As she broke down emotionally on the forest floor, the two men looked at the new arrival in shock and surprise.

Albus Dumbledore had not been having a good day. He could feel his days ticking along, he was trying to make the most he could of them, but the fact still stood that, with his left arm in the current cursed state it was in, he simply could not knit. Sure, he could enchant the needles to follow the pattern and simply gaze on as they created knitted brilliance in front of his very eyes – but it was not the same. It would never be the same. Dumbledore was old enough not to let this bother him – but in the face of more dangerous matters he did not see anything wrong in allowing himself to bask in the worry of trivial matters.

Then Severus wanted to talk to him – oh Severus. Dumbledore felt very strongly for the poor chap, he had the uptmost respect for what the man had become, but there was no turning away from the fact that certain things had to be done and it was up to him to follow the orders. The conversation was tedious and painful … But Severus had given his word. There could be no backing down from it.

They heard a rustling in the bushes and turned around, wands at the ready. Out burst a wild looking girl, probably about 15 or 16, dressed in the most peculiar red and blue lycra outfit. A large scrape on her shin was gushing blood. She met their eyes with a look of primitive anger. As the watched, dumbfounded, she swore passionately and – Albus chuckled privately at the melodrama of this – tore off one of her shoes and slammed it into the forest floor.

Then she collapsed herself onto the ground and started sobbing wildly, muttering words like "GPS… facebook… fucking rabbits…"

The two professers stood in a semi-stunned silence for a moment, as the girls sobs washed over the forest in waves.

"Dumbledore?" Snape said his name less as a question, more as a plea. This was a bizarre situation. Albus stroked his long beard, as he always did in times of trouble that could be treated with more humour than, say, those involving imminent death of anyone besides Lord Voldemort.

"Put away your wand, Severus," Dumbledore finally said. Snape did, reluctantly. Out of the corner of his eye Dumbledore saw Snape following him warily as they approached the girl, his had holding onto his wand from within the robes. He chuckled a little inside his head. Good man, Severus.

They had now reached the girl, who was covering her face and wailing.

"Excuse me?" Dumbledore asked politely. "May we help you, in any way possible?"

The girl warbled something that sounded remarkably like "go away". Snape nodded pointedly at Dumbledore and made to sweep away, but Dumbledore put up a hand to stop him.

"Some water?" he asked. "Food? A blanket? You look cold – a bandage for your cut?"

Behind him he heard Snape mutter "come on" but dismissed him with a wave of the hand. "Come on, we cannot just allow you to weep on our forest floor! We have a hospital wing, if you'd care to accompany me to the castle? Perhaps we could get you sorted out?"

The girl finally stopped sobbing and looked up. "C-castle?" she asked, her tear-streaked face gazing over his in clear wonderment. "I-I thought… We're near Kuitpo, right? Near the cross country course?"

Dumbledore was shaking his head gently, about to inquire further, when she gasped and raised her dirty hands to her mouths. "I know what you are! You-you have pointy sticks! You're dressed funny! WITCHES," she shrieked, gathering herself and cowering up against a rock. "I'VE SEEN THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT! PLEASE DON'T HURT ME! PLEASE DON'T HURT-"

"Oh, Lord," Snape muttered behind Dumbledore, a note of amazement in his dour tone. "A muggle at Hogwarts. How on earth-"

Coincidentally, these were Dumbledore's exact thoughts.

The girl was scrambling up the rock now, still shrieking and cowering. "I'VE GOT TO GET AWAY FROM ALL OF YOU! I HAVE A RACE TO RUN, I HAVE TO STAY AWAY FROM BEARS, I HAVE TO-"

Dumbledore knew it was time to take decisive action. "I'm afraid," he said gently, "that I cannot let you do that." He looked from Snape to the girl, and back to Snape. "You're going to have to come with us. We'll help you get back to your destination. My name is Professor Dumbledore, and this is Professor Snape-"

"SWEET JESUS, I CAN'T JUST FOLLOW WITCHES," the girls shrieked, apopletic. She made to run away, but with a wave of the wand found herself unable to move off the ground. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, STOP THIS RIGHT NOW. STRANGER DANGER! STRANGER DANGER-"

With another wave of the wand she was silenced. Dumbldore strode up to stand by her, and knelt to address her at her own height. "I'm not sure how to explain this to you," he said gently, "but we're going to have to sort this out quietly in the castle. For your own good. You understand, this is a strange situation, one we have never had before. Your kind does not generally come here. So I apologise for forcefully restraining you, but rest assured it is for your own personal benefits."

He straightened up – definitely not as sprightly as he once was; might have to borrow more of Minerva's yoga tapes – and nodded to Snape. "Take the girl to the castle, Severus. Cast a shielding charm, no one can see her. I'll survey the grounds – we have to work out how she got in here - and meet you shortly in my office." He stepped next to Snape and whispered in his ear. "Do try to calm her down. Engage her in conversation. Try to find out where she came from. Offer her a lemon drop."

He stepped away, and Snape cast a shielding bubble around the girl, beckoning with his wand to float her along beside him. His expression had soured considerably. In turn, she was trying to burst her way out of the bubble. In fact, the pair looked as angry and sullen as each other. Wordlessly, they made their way up to the Hogwarts castle, leaving Dumbledore worried, bemused – yet not just a little amused - by the sudden turn of events.