Siobhan waltzed right into the designated meeting spot, wand behind her ear and schoolbag (complete with omnioculars inside) swinging at her hip. Subtlety wasn't her strong point – she [i]knew[/i] that – but she also supposed somewhat belatedly that she ought to know to check around doorways, especially in such troublesome times.

There was a Gryffindor in there, one whom she'd seen around the tower a few times. Siobhan didn't know his name. He looked over at her as she entered, and her gaze was split between Kyle and the sort-of stranger. It was good that he wasn't wearing his Slytherin Tie nor the crest on his person. That would've been [i]bad[/i].

But Siobhan was fairly certain the guy didn't realise her friend was from a different house.

“And you're... MacFusty right? First years, both of you?”

Siobhan nodded mutely. He scoffed.

“Look, this is where we watch the Quidditch tryouts every year – find your own spot.”

“Hey, that isn't fair! You're the only one here... and Kyle was here first!” Siobhan crossed her arms.

“Right?”

“Not quite. Now scram,” the Gryffindor said, before pausing, eyebrows furrowing in obvious confusion. “Wait, you're not in Gryffindor.” His eyes turned back to Kyle. Thank Merlin he was slow – Siobhan swore she could smell the sawdust burning from where she stood as the older boy tried to work out who it was.

Siobhan looked at Kyle desperately, trying to convey that she thought they should run. Probably.