If there was ever anything to be said about Severus Snape, the man sure knew how to keep a secret. His expression was unscruitably 'nothing to see her', customary dangerous malicious glint in the eyes deflecting any unwanted human contact – or just any human contact, full stop. It was almost magical; he could turn the glare on any first grader and they would be deflected from his path, running away as fast as a twelve-year-old girl in pursuit of Justin Bieber. He swept through the halls, girl-in-shield-bubble in tow, mercilessly and almost without incident. Until-

"Longbottom!" Snape barked, halting mid-step, the bubble bumping into his back slightly. "What are you doing?"

Neville Longbottom looked over his shoulder at Snape with a scared and guilty expression on his face and his body half-stuck underneath a collapsed suit of armour. "My-toad," he stuttered nervously. "Then I t-tripped-"

Everyone had a fatal personality flaw, some larger than others. Things like King Lear's inability to understand love and Macbeth's ambition… A definite flaw for Snape would probably be his inability to leave alone situations in which he could vindictively get a kind of revenge.

As Trevor the toad croaked and hopped around from behind the suit of armour, as if on cue, a nasty smirk slowly spread across Snape's face. "Dear me," he muttered (of course he didn't really mean this; in fact situations like these were often the only thing getting him through the day). "Clumsy magic, clumsy person… I shall have to take some points of Gryffindor for damage to the Hogwarts relic, of course…"

Although Snape had magically tethered the shielded ball to the ground, unnoticed by him Trevor the toad had jumped onto the ball, and it silently popped and released a slightly confused, yet highly agitated Charlotte. She looked around wildly, then sprinted for it.

"Aah!" screamed Neville, glad for the distraction, and Snape whirled around in time to see a flash of racing-flat disappear behind a wall. With a roar, he hitched up his robes (damned inconvenient garmets, now that he thought about it) and dashed after her. But she was a trained athlete and he was merely an undernourished wizard – why get good at running when you can just apparate everywhere? – and so even as he set off he realised he had no chance. There were too many stairs, the ghosts wouldn't cooperate with him, and he didn't want anyone seeing him doing anything as undignified as running – it would definitely ruin the intimidating vibe he prided himself on imparting to the children. Peeves, certainly, would never miss the chance to taunt the old Potions master… What he needed right now was a map that might tell him the location of the runaway… Damned Potter…

"Severus!"

The Potions master turned. Of course McGonnagal would turn up just in time to give Longbottom some sympathy. Flitwick was scurrying across the hall to keep up with her too.

"Is anything the-"

Snape cut her off. "Everything is under control, Minerva," he said impatiently. Then he remembered finding the Muggle was not his mission alone, and this time he would be able to tell other people what he was up to, and cooperate with them, and do all those other 'theraputic' things Dumbledore was always waffling on about. Dumbledore. He had to send the Headmaster a patronus. But how to do it without McGonagall seeing?

"Lovely." She turned her head to Neville, whose eyes were bugging out of his head, still trapped beneath the suit of armour. "Oh dear!" she exclaimed, dashing over to the boy.

Snape thought it was now or never. "Oh, yes, and…" he trailed off. "There's-a-muggle-in-the-castle."

McGonagall coughed. "A what? Perhaps I'm going a little deaf I thought you said-"

"A MUGGLE, Professor." Snape coughed, and tried to recapture his usual composure. "In the castle."

His shrug was cool and casual. 'What of it?' it seemed to say. 'Everything's under control.' 'Keep putting things in inverted commas'.

McGonagall's eyes boggled. "No!" she exclaimed. "No, it's impossible, it's-"

Snape smoothed his frown, lifting his eyebrow distainfully. "Well, yes," he said matter-of-fact. "But, er, I'm sure Dumbledore will locate the girl and everything will be under control-"

McGonagall's face turned faintly purple. "The muggle girl is loose in the castle, Severus?"

A crash alerted the two to the fact that Flitwick had fainted into another suit of armour. There was a slight awkward pause, as Neville tried to tug his robes from under the armour's staff and collapsed into yet another suit of armour. Snape took advantage of the kerfuffle to covertly send off a patronus…

Dumbledore chose this moment to stroll into the castle hall.

"Very mysterious," he announced, quickly taking in the chaotic scene laying in front of him. "I am not worried for the defenses of the castle just yet, but we shall have to talk to this girl closely indeed…" he trailed off. "Severus, you did take care of the girl?"

Snape's frown deepened, again. "You received my message, headmaster? There was an incident-"

McGonagall also spoke. "A muggle? You can't be serious, Albus-"

Shaking his head, Dumbledore waved his want and, in an instant, the knights had righted themselves; Flitwick stood up and dusted himself off, trying to restore his dignity. Neville stood awkwardly by the suit of armour.

"My apologies, Mr Longbottom," Dumbledore said. "May I request you return to your classes and do not speak of this incident to anyone until we have sorted it out?" This was not really a question. Neville quaked slightly as he hastened to follow the headmaster's orders.

Dumbledore turned back to Snape and McGonagall. "Luckily all the students are still in their classes. We have – ah – ten minutes to find the girl…" He surveyed his watch from above his giant half-moon spectacles, before rolling up his sleeves ready for business. "Well, let's get to it then."

Then he was off, leaping gracefully through the halls like a gazelle a fraction of his age. For an odd moment McGonagall and Snape caught eyes, equally confused, but then they too leapt off into action.

Flitwick remained behind, checking damage to the suits of armour. "Nasty bump on the head you gave me," he squeaked to the suit. "Might have to put a cushioning charm on you all… don't want anyone suing… Oh, to live in the modern age…"

This castle was a strange, strange place.

Running, at times like these, was reassuring for Charlotte. The faster she ran – down endless passages and up dizzying flights of stairs – the more normalacy she could attribute to a place like this. If she slowed down too much she could swear the portraits were moving; swear things were floating above her head. She reached a dead-end, and stopped to catch her breath, afraid to look at the oddities that surrounded her.

She eventually came to the conclusion that she was dead; she had died at some point during that goddamned cross country race that she had been fucking training for for ten fucking wasted weeks. This must be the odd place referred to as heaven.

She sat down in a windowsill and looked around. The place was remarkably devoid of people – except for a red-head with a smattering of freckles making his way down the passageway towards her. An angel?

"Is it- is it nice here?" she enquired breathlessly. Gotta make sure this isn't hell.

He frowned at her like she had said something strange. "Well, it's alright, innit, when you're not in Potions with Snape…" he then appeared to take in what she was wearing and looked positively gobsmacked. "Blimey, you alright, then?"

She shrugged, confused, and was about to probe more when a frizzy-headed girl began following down the passage.

"Come, on, Harry," she called behind her, flustered. "I don't care what you two say! History of Magic is a real subject and it does matter if we are fifty minutes late!"

Then she caught sight of Charlotte and stopped dead.

"When we're fighting for our lives against Death Eaters, what are we going to do with the subject, Hermione?" called a voice from out of sight. "Bore them to death with our extensive knowledge of Goblin Warfare from 1342-1564? Oof-"

Then the spiky-haired boy also collided with the two other teenagers clogging up the hallway.

There was a highly awkward silence, as everyone stared directly at Charlotte.

She took a breath. "Well, erm… Any of you have a phone I can borrow? I think I need to call my parents to take me home…"

The brown haired girl widened her eyes considerably in realisation. "You're… You're… How did you get here!"

Charlotte shrugged dourly. "Believe me, I would rather not be here at all. I have a race to finish. I have an after party to attend. I-"

"Potter! Weasley! Granger!" It was the hook-nosed, sour-faced man from outside, the one Charlotte had just escaped. "Out of class… I should have guessed…"

The trio looked terrified as the old man approached from behind Snape, followed by a woman. Charlotte wanted to run away, but there was really nowhere to go. Also this turn of events was interesting. What kind of place was this – a prison? Were the three people she had just… well… kind of befriended, if she could be so optimistic, about to get into trouble? So awkward…

"I think," the old man announced slowly (how was it Charlotte had never noticed he was wearing what looked like pyjamas before?), "we should all go to my office and have a little chat about this turn of events."

And so Charlotte was bustled off. Still wearing her sports bra and lycra shorts. Still bleeding from the shin. Still with a bunch of people dressed in funny clothes and holding sticks.

Lovely.

Please please read and reviewwwww... i need something to distract me from all these essays i have to write for school :(