It was only the third day – but Aimée had already signed herself up for every activity at least once through the end of the month. Including the first of the survival-skills-plus-stargazing camping trips tonight.
Surprisingly, daylight hours here at this time of year weren’t much different from midwinter back home (or even at Hogwarts): the sun hadn’t risen until eight o’clock that morning and had set shortly before five that afternoon, which was comparable to the Highlands in early February. She had been expecting longer nights, though she supposed she’d overestimated how far south they actually were. Regardless, Venus and Jupiter would be easily visible (though the former would dip below the horizon an hour after sunset, which was nearly upon them), as would several of the larger known stars… and a high likelihood of seeing the aurora australis. Aimée was looking forward to the view: surrounded by open ocean for
kilometers in all directions (save for a few small uninhabited islands), there was no chance of light pollution sullying it.
But volcanic rock covered by layers of ice and snow had made for tricky footing (even for someone as in-shape as she was), and the Ravenclaw was physically exhausted by the time the group reached the designated campsite. The main body of the near-circular island was just over twelve miles in diameter, their guide had said. Aimée had found the landscape to be just as breathtaking as it was barren and unforgiving.
Once the group had pitched camp and gotten settled, they started preparing for dinner (which they’d learned how to do the night before). For the time being Aimée had chosen a spot by the fire she’d helped start (without magic, for the added challenge), deciding to journal until the flames were hot enough to cook over, when someone sat down on the vacant collapsible stool beside her. Aimée finished her sentence before glancing up briefly to acknowledge who had joined her. She recognized him:
Ricky, he’d said, from Ilvermorny. They’d met earlier in the day, during the nearly-three-hour hike to the site.
“Hey,” she greeted with an easy smile, angling her crossed legs slightly away to give him a bit more room while maintaining her makeshift writing desk that was her right thigh. “D’you know what’s for dinner?”
Her next meal was never far from the Beater’s mind under normal circumstances, given her Quidditch training – and Merlin knew she’d burned enough calories from this afternoon’s trek alone to equate to at least two sessions’ worth.
