(no subject)

They eat their breakfast--lunch?--by the lake, occasionally chucking rocks into the water, but not talking much. Letting some time pass after the conversation in Harry's room. Letting the morning warm up. After they split the last cup of hot chocolate, they leave the satchel by a large rock, to be retrieved--later. (They'll remember, honest! Feuilly will, anyway.) It seems like a good time to meander around the edges of the woods.

There is a path. Feuilly looks at it doubtfully, glances at Harry. "I think that one doesn't do anything--you know--magical."