Each broom was busted up in a slightly different way. Some had their handles chipped from ramming into stone, some were stained dark and worn down like old furniture, others had tail bindles all scrunched up or twigs exploding all over the place. She wanted the best quality one she could find, and after being in Fitness for a few weeks she was starting to get an idea of what to look for. Digging into the clump, she found a foggy black one covered in scratches. However, the tail was in good shape and there were no splits or bends in the wood, and there were even some remnants of its emerald branding on the handle: Ni b 2 50. It must have belonged to the Nimbus series, she thought - it'd been mentioned in class, but she'd never seen one with any numbers. Nimbus 2050?
Extracting it, she carried it over to her backpack and came to a full stop. Sitting next to it was her jogging outfit, right where she'd left it, completely unaware of its status in wizarding society. Muggle clothes. It was true. They were definitely non-magical. There was something in the weaving, or the way the sleeves had been factory-stitched on, or the artificial, plasticy texture in the shorts that made them look of so much lesser quality than what the kids wore at Hogwarts. What had happened? Why did they look different now? Had she gotten so used to magic already that her own clothes were starting to lose their familiarity? Sadness twisted in her gut - she didn't want that to happen. She liked these clothes. They were good clothes. It wasn't their fault they were Muggle. But there was no denying it, and if she was seen in them people would notice. The only reason she'd escaped it so far was probably because of her being with Kev and Ashley every time she went out.
Putting the feelings aside, she pulled them on. They were still a lot closer-fitting than her work robes, and Potter already knew she was Muggleborn, so as long as she kept out of sight it wouldn't be a problem - which was the whole plan, anyway.
With everything set, her nerves were getting going. She picked up the broom and left the closet. The chill of the tunnel immediately pressed against her arms and legs, a lot colder than earlier, and yet again emphasized just how out-of-place she was. A breeze came from the field ahead, and when she arrived at the exit she stopped to look around just in case someone was out there - but it was empty.
She stepped onto the grass, the walls looming around her. It was undeniably eerie. Being the only moving thing in the field she felt very exposed, and she crept along the wall, glancing up at the stone carvings and viewing boxes at the stadium's rim. If she was being watched, she'd never be able to tell. There were too many hiding places, and she couldn't keep it all in view at once. But she told herself it was dinner, and that it was a twenty-minute walk from school, and nobody in their right mind would be out here anyways.
She was alone. Even Zach had gone. Their argument was still playing in the back of her mind, as much as she tried to be focusing on what she was doing.
A quarter of the way down she remembered there was a magical flying broomstick in her hand and climbed on. It shook a lot at the start, bumping around in her already-sore groin, but as she weaved back and forth it warmed up and the ride smoothed. She leaned forward and accelerated, grass blades whipping and snapping at the tips of her boots, air blasting around her, the heat being sucked away from her unrobed body. It did feel like she was going faster - maybe the clothes were working.
Ten feet from the exit-tunnel she dismounted. It was gated just as the entrance tunnel was, but this was a lot more ominous-looking. Its wood was as blocky as the day it'd been made and greened over with lichen, and between its beams wound a bulky, rusted, orange chain tying the doors shut in an X. There was no getting through - but at the top was a gap, large enough for her to squeeze through.
Taking a breath, she strode over and picked out the space between the doors as the best route up. As soon as she touched the wood, her nerves sent her fingers sparkling - but she ignored them and made a fist in the gap, friction locking it in place. She heaved herself up, broom in her other hand, making it little more useful than a blunt anchor. But the chain was there for footing, and after a few more lunges and fist-lockings she clambered up on top of the slippery beams, all elbows and knees, the gate booming and groaning underneath.
Ahead stretched the dark, abandoned tunnel. She took a breath, heart thudding in her ears, then dropped. Her boots squished into moss and clumps of dead grass. She went quickly, focusing on the opening at the far end, trying not to think about how creepy it was. Every noise sounded a hundred times louder, each squelch of moss and steam-laden breath bouncing off the walls and amplifying both ahead and behind. As she passed the stairways the darkness yawned, and she looked up them, only seeing blackness at their tops. Was that squeaking she heard? Was there something up there? She looked forward again, and was just in time to see movement before her on the floor. Gasping, she lept backward, but found it to be nothing more than a brightly-colored food box. Ink characters twisted on its surface - there was a cartoon chicken, pecking dully at two wobbling chili peppers, their actions and placements far more sluggish and off-center than she would have expected - almost like they'd moved away from the rot to keep their shapes safe.
There was something disturbing about that. She didn't know what level of consciousness magical drawings operated at, but if they were alive, decomposing in a dingy tunnel was probably the worst way to go. Could she do anything? Throw it away properly? The fate in a garbage can probably wouldn't be any less gruesome. Was there even a humane way of disposing of ink-beings?
Not knowing what to do, she decided she must be overthinking things. This was just a take-out box after all, there was no way they'd put any considerable spellwork into it. Hundreds of these were probably sent out every day, and making each ink-character a living, feeling thing would no doubt be crazy expensive waste of energy. Reluctant, she trudged forward again, leaving it to decay. No matter how lifelike it seemed, it couldn't have been anything more than an animation. Like a gif. The only reason it'd secluded itself to a corner of the box was because of some spell to maximize its advertising lifespan. Or something. And the reason it looked so grim… was just because it was an old spell. That had to have been it. It was just one of the weird things about magic. Witches and wizards wouldn't create something like that without thinking of the consequences, would they?
She put it out of her mind. Arriving at the exit, she came to a stop once more, recognizing she was just one step away from officially stealing the broom. Before her the grounds and daylight waited, as ordinary and unassuming as ever. There should have been something to this moment. It was the first time she was intentionally breaking a rule since deciding not to do it anymore. She looked at the broom in her hand, trying to feel like she was doing something wrong, but the only thing that came to her were her worries of being caught and getting in trouble. What did it matter, taking a broom out? It's not like it was being used, and she was going to return it. But her teachers at Birch's had never seen things that way, and if Professor Smith was as strict as everyone said she'd be landed a detention for sure. Then it was just a downhill slope for her becoming a delinquent, and getting in fights, and people not want wanting to be her friend.
But that was only if she got caught.
A breeze swept over her, and she looked back at the grounds. To the left it sloped gently down to the muddy lakeshore, and above was the blue sky and wispy clouds. It was a beautiful day. Committing, she made for the treeline - really, people could do whatever they wanted as long as nobody found out about it.
The forest looked more and more Forbidden the closer she got. The difference between it and the grounds was unmistakable. There was nothing that resembled development or intent, no opening for her to enter, no friendly bark-chipped trail leading to some sort of manicured hiking path. It was saplings, brambles, and tree trunks, immediately thick and dark, the monstrous branches overhead blocked out all evening light after only a few feet. For all she knew, there was something watching her right now, whether it be wizarding owl or some sort of magic creature.
But what worried her most was a teacher spotting her. She did another check over her shoulder toward the stadium, and saw parts of the castle peaking out at its edges. Enough for someone to see her. Nerves rushing back up, she mounted the broom and planted a boot on the ground, kicking away the pull of the earth. She made for the trees.
Twigs and needles brushed her, pointy bits catching on her tights before tugging free. She rose higher, going about midway up, where it thinned enough for her not to touch anything. A strand of spiderweb caught on her face, and she wiped it away. Looking back, she saw the grounds already a good distance away, and there was still plenty of tree above her to stay out of sight. A few seconds later and the grounds were out of sight entirely - the forest had swallowed her. Worrying about her direction she rose again, just enough to see the pointed tips of the castle towers and orient herself, then dipped back down.
Around her, the forest was creepy and silent. The trees were bigger than anything she'd ever seen, and who knew what things could be hidden here? There weren't any bears or wolves in Britain, she knew, but then again, these were magic parts. It was good she had the broom.
Below, the forest floor was a wild tangle of bushes, vines, and darkness, tense and waiting. She was high enough not to be able to see the ground, or maybe the growth was just too thick for her to see it. What if the broom stopped working? The thought was frightening. If she got caught up in that mess she'd get scratched to hell, and it'd take her ages to get back. But that couldn't happen - the broom was handling well enough, and it was still around in the equipment closet for use, that must have meant it was still reliable. But they had broken things at Birch's. But that was Birch's.
The deeper she got, the more tense she felt. It was like there was a feeling in the air, like something was alive, but she couldn't say what. It was just... a presence, she felt, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. But there was nothing. Just moss-laden trees and more forest.
"Spooky," she muttered.
After another minute she burst through the trees and shot out over a break in the forest. Swerving, she came to a standstill. Were there buildings? Were there people? Frantic, she scanned the area, but it seemed abandoned. It was a long, muddy gauge in the forest, the ground barren of plant life, instead sporting the occasional exposed boulder and brown puddle. On either edge sprouted new growth, but there were also recently-crushed bushes and a few splintered tree stumps. Not wanting to stay out in the open she went back to the trees, then hesitated a moment before following it east, and hopefully, toward her jogging trail.
What had made it? It was far too unnatural to be part of the forest. She wove in and out of the treeline and spotted a well-trodden footpath meandering down the middle - so it was used after all. But by what? Did classes come out here? It didn't look like something made for students. It was like it had been bulldozed, only there were no tire tracks of any kind, and with the tension in the air the idea of something as regular as bulldozers coming through was laughable.
She kept following it. There was something familiar about it, she was starting to feel. Had she been here before? She couldn't have been, the only time she'd come in the forest was with Kev and Ashley on the jogging trail, and this looked nothing like that. Had they come across it, and she'd just forgotten?
Angling her broom, she pressed forward, wanting to see where it ended. She was careful to stay close enough to the trees that she could duck away at a moment's notice in case anyone was coming along, but it didn't seem likely for that to happen.
Another minute. Bells boomed. It was dinner. Right now Zach, Kendra, and everyone else were finding seats in the Great Hall and tucking into their food. Maybe they'd nick some food for her - her stomach tightened at the thought. She couldn't wait until they heard about this. Maybe Zach and Kendra would talk, and he'd realize how he was being an ass to her, and everything would be back to normal when she got back. That would be awesome.
Suddenly, she flew through a bright-green canopy and stopped, the back of the broom almost angling her into a tree branch. Had that been the jogging path? Turning in place, she went back. The clearance of the forest floor and the medley of bright barkchips and mud confirmed it to be true, and she realized why the gauge looked familiar - she'd crossed right through it! There'd been a patch they'd ran over, and now she realized it'd been an intersection!
And it was actually perfect. It meant all she and Potter would have to do is fly directly from the stadium until they hit the gauge, then go the rest of the way to the trail. It'd be off the grounds and out of sight almost the entire way. And if the gauge ran all the way back to the lake - which she guessed it did - there wasn't a chance of them missing it.
Rising above the treetops, she saw she was well out sight from the castle, its tower points even smaller than by the stadium. You'd need a telescope to make someone out at this distance. And from her vantage point, she realized the jogging trail looked like a ribbon against the surrounding forest. Rather than the overwhelming dark pine, the trail was lined with normal, leafy trees that were brighter and smaller. Furthermore, the barkchips shone through the in its foliage, almost making it luminous. She felt herself relax - it couldn't have been better. There was no way Potter could complain.
Keeping above the trees, she followed the path to its turn-around point, which was made obvious by a large, reaching tree. She flew back and forth, looking for any spots where the trail wasn't clear or anything at all that might give Potter a fuss, but it looked good. She figured they'd loop the tree before going back to the intersection, and do the whole thing a few times to pick the winner. They'd take the best three out of five. That seemed reasonable. If only someone had a magic phone with a stopwatch app… there had to be some magical means of keeping time. Maybe their referee would know, whoever that would be. That was something she had to do to.
She made four runs, then caught the bells going off on her way back. After a moment's hesitation, she went for one more - she'd only managed to do four, and wanted to round it out to five before heading back. Then it was along the muddy gauge until she peeked up and spotted the stadium (the spooky feeling in the air hadn't diminished at all, which she found odd), then back through the treetops, until the forest below gave way to the grounds. She dropped down through the scratchy branches, nerves rising, and made a wobbly jog back to the stadium as her legs got ahold of themselves.
How much time did she have to get to Gryffindor? She tried to calculate it. It was a twenty minute walk (so a ten minute run), then fifteen minutes up to the common room... ten, if she disobeyed conduct and jogged the halls... so that was twenty total, and it'd probably been twenty since the bells rang, making for forty. She might've even been over-estimating the time since the bells, as she'd been flying faster in the later runs and knew her way around the gauge a lot better. So that left her twenty minutes to spare - enough time for a shower!
Entering the disused tunnel, she found it a lot less creepy and squished the whole thing at a run. She practically vaulted the gate at the end, tossing the broom over and scrambling after it, impacting the grass on all fours. It was then a rough broom ride back through the field, this time going at a bee-line through the middle. Overhead, the sky warmed disconcertingly to gold, and thoughts of missing dinner and being back in the common room made her stomach clench in hunger.
She made the locker-tunnel. Stopping before entering the closet, she popped her head into the lockers themselves - they might, she realized, have showers in them. The first room was a tight, brown space, with lockers along the walls, benches to sit on, and a big field poster someone had left on a tripod. To the left was an opening into a dark, stone room, and as she went in jars blossomed with white fire to reveal a tiled bathroom. There, quartered off from the stalls by a wall, were showers, stone gargoyle heads serving as the spouts. Perfect.
Hurrying, she loped across the tunnel to grab her backpack (tossing the black broom at its cluster), then stripped out of her Muggle outfit and worked her way through the buttons. There were three: one for hot water, one for cold, and one that made a load of dry air come roaring out of the gargoyle's mouth. As she rinsed, she allowed herself only one thought, and it was about the instantaneous-ness of the hot water.
She figured it was either kept on-hand at all times, making it a tremendously wasteful use of school funds, or just one of the other wonderful and stupidly unfair things about magic.