5:00 P.M.

Miles Faraday climbed to his feet, barely avoiding his own shoes-- which had been discarded over an hour ago-- while he took a few measured backward. Until now, the Hufflepuff had been lounging on his stomach, thoroughly enjoying a socks-only policy and the bowl of blueberry granola he'd been sharing with his other half. The Hufflepuff ran his ink-smudged fingers rather messily through his hair while he looked down at their efforts. A giant map (giant being an understatement) was unfolded in all of its wrinkly, faded-color glory, right in the center of the otherwise empty corridor. It was covered in the most wonderful muggle invention of all time: post-it notes. Post-it notes full of Lola's quirky handwriting and Miles' own jumbled notes. These words comprised the most delightfully random facts one could fathom, as well as many rather dreamy-minded wishes and aspirations of the teenagers who had scribed them.

Miles shifted forward again and dragged his white sock across the bottom left corner of the map (which had to had to have been longer than he was tall), and in a half-hearted attempt to smooth out the freshest indents of his own silhouette. He didn't really mind, either way, because it was only going to get crinkled again. The hand prints from nearly an hour again had already disappeared, and this strange pressure would, too. Besides, he secretly found the subtle shape on the side of the map-- the one shaped like Lola, which covered part of Russia-- to be rather endearing.

"Look, we'll start here," he said, pointing to one of three post-its that covered the U.K. and Ireland. "And go this way," he muttered, crouching again to drag a finger down to France. "And loop around Portugal..." It was very easy to get himself twisted, even without that little patch of the world. "Morocco and Algeria before we come back up for Germany, or after Italy?" He muttered, cocking his head to the side for his best friend's reaction. He smiled at the girl as easily as if she'd just offered him a giant cake a hundred galleons cash. They'd been planning their post-graduation trip around the world since third year, and though they still had more than a year to go, they were always moving a step closer. Miles felt it would be a journey to put everyone else's traditional coming-of-age holiday to shame. (Though he was not particularly a competitive sort of boy).

Falling easily back onto his stomach, the teen dug his elbows into the edge of the map and zoned in on a post-it near Sicily. "I feel like we're forgetting something right there," he admitted, though quite cheerfully and without worry. Nearly as big as the map was the disorganized pile of notebooks, loose-leaf parchment, and brochures they'd been collecting for years. There were bound to be a few back in Miles' dormitory, at the bottom of his trunk, even if Lola had managed to bring all of hers (which he didn't know for certain, either, but that was half the fun).

Lola lied haphazardly across India, Pakistan, and part of Afghanistan and Iran as she observed the many shores of the Arabian sea. As she paid attention to the exact lines that formed around the country of Yemen, she also pondered the sea creatures that could be found there. With climates varied creatures, and with different creatures painful ways to die, while swimming off the coast of Yemen, also varied. She frowned––maybe Yemen would be left off the itinerary. She looked through a large yellow envelope in her hand filled with travel brochures (which had once been organized from A to Z but whose organization had stopped existing awhile back) looking for the one she had found on Yemen. Spotting it almost immediately she looked for bolded letters that read, ‘painful deaths’ but didn’t find any, fortunately, and decided she’d reconsider Yemen when the final draft of their trip was decided. Stuffing the brochures back into the envelope she tossed it toward the pile of  other travel materials. Taking a post it note in a fluorescent green, she scribbled ‘SEA CREATURES?’ and plopped it halfway between the Arabian sea and the Indian Ocean. She had done the same thing to the other bodies of water that were fairly large. Sea creatures were always something to consider when traveling.

She turned to sit on her bottom over Russian and into China to observe the work they’d done. She stood when she saw Miles standing and as he smoothed out the map she moved to the top center of the map and put a finger to her chin observing the world like a Grecian goddess would. Which reminded her that she need to eat Spinach pie in Greece. She bent over and added onto the post it note already over Greece with a simple ‘SPINACH–PIE–KITA’ scrawled onto it and decided it was missing a smiley face, which she quickly corrected (which, in turn, also made her smile wide).

The girl listened intently as Miles spoke nodding and agreeing. What a bright boy he was, too. “Sounds like a plan… man?” she said, replacing the more commonly used ‘Stan’ with something that would not lead Miles to believe that she had forgotten his name. When confronted with the question, she frowned, something didn’t feel right. It was then that she figured it might be easier to understand the direction when she read the map right side up. She walked across the map on tiptoe and stopped next to Miles, ringing an arm around his waist and pointing toward the southernmost part of Algeria. Closing one eye she followed her finger across Tunisia and removed herself from Miles to picture the line it would make. “Why don’t we book it through Malta, go up to Sicily, travel up Italy. From Milan to Switzerland, to Germany. Through Munich to the ‘Romantish’ street thing in reverse to Berlin to Helgoland.” She formed the line in the air. “It forms a more geometric shape.” She closed her eyes; it might have formed a geometric shape.

“Would you rather shoot straight up through Denmark or turn toward Poland?” If Lola had any goal, it was to travel the world and form an actual pattern with their travel paths. “What do you like better open-faced rye sandwiches or pierogis?” She tilted her head sideways. She felt like she knew the answer but maybe she was wrong.

"I like the way you roll," he began. "No. I like the way you go, Lo." There, that rhymed pretty well. Even if it made less sense, and he would never want her to go anywhere without him. The Hufflepuff offered a crooked grin at his own dorkiness. "La," he finished lamely, but lovingly, feeling compelled to complete his favorite name, even though sometimes he did call her Lo, just because. She'd definitely beat him with 'plan' and 'man'. Even while he waited for her input, his eyes wandered sneakily toward the last note she'd added to the map. Spinach was always a million times better when it was baked into a pie. Mostly because its nutritional value was canceled by delicious things. Granted, Miles occasionally liked to pretend he was all about health, nutrition, and earthy, leafy foods. He certainly admired people who were. But he was still a teenage boy and he still loved his cereal and pie the most, and it was pretty obvious to anyone who knew him. But spinach pie? Superb. More so because they would be feasting on the real stuff in Greece. It was such a brilliant dream that he had to stop himself from crouching and adding a second smiley face to keep the first one company.

When the girl put her arm around him, Miles' reaction was magnetic: his own lanky arm draped around Lola's shoulder as if it were simply designed for that purpose, and he didn't mind that he was pinning her hair to her back and possibly creating a temporary crook, because he knew she wouldn't mind either. And that was why they were friends. "That sounds like a good shape to me," he agreed, after taking a moment to gaze from location to location as she recited them.

Once on the ground again, he reached for his bag, which was open over the Atlantic and spilling its contents onto Africa's west coast. From the canvas messenger's depths, he uncovered several seemingly knotted bits of yarn, all in different colors. It was a system that would only make sense to the pair of Hufflepuffs, but Miles proceeded to lay one strand between each of the countries and cities Lola had named. He then took his wand and traced it over each piece, so that it seemed to meld obediently to the map without getting permanently stuck like glue or tape. It was easily un-doable if they changed their minds or wanted to add something to their path, which, inevitably, they would.

"An open-faced rye sandwich topped with pierogies," he joked, smiling again and looking up at her. He straightened up slowly, so that their height difference became what it normally was, and Miles was looking down again. He lazily rubbed his stomach. "No, I guess we can't be in both places at once without applying for a Time Turner. I vote pierogies first. They're easier to walk with." They would eventually get tired, and the idea of sitting down to eat the sandwiches a few days after enjoying the potato dumplings while loitering through a city was appealing. "I wonder if the street vendors make them. We have to try both versions-- one in a restaurant, and one outside." He pulled a stack of post-its from his pockets and pressed the whole thing lightly against Lola's shoulder for support while he penned something nearly illegible involving dodgy mobile kitchens on the top sticky note. He was very careful not to press down and risk hurting Lola like in the muggle tale about the princess who could feel a tiny pea through a stack of five billion pillows. "But then we might be tempted to go to Prague before we reach Denmark, so maybe sandwiches first..." He spoke slowly and thoughtfully, waiting for Lola's expert shape-making opinion.

After sticking the note on Europe, Miles walked over to Greenland and observed it as if he were watching a puppy at his feet. "It's weird how this is part of Denmark," he laughed. "Their national park is the biggest in the world. I guess we should save it for right before or after North America, though."

Lola half smiled and half giggled at his poetic mind, and retorted with yet another rhyme of sorts, “I like your style, Smiles.” She only put awkward emphasis on the ‘s’ because she was scared that it may have set off the balance of the rhyme but hopefully Miles wouldn’t notice. Why would anyone notice that? Unless they were aficionados of detail, which Lola kind of was. She had thought many times about starting a club for fans of detail and calling it something like Deticionados. Kind of like a gang, but a gang that paid attention to floral centerpieces during parties. Lola always liked reading those magazines where they gave you two images and told you to find the missing objects in the second image that had been in the first image. She was also one of those people who could guess how many jelly beans were in one jar, or even just get into an eerily close range of the correct number. It was an odd talent. One that won her a packet of Muggle stick on pictures and needle–less temporary bodily staining pictures.

As he formed the lines that would comprise their world travel mission, she hovered over him silently holding back her hair so that it would stop getting in the way of her face. “I need a haircut,” she declared randomly, grabbing all of her hair with one hand and standing up straight only to release her hair once more. “That is forming a really nice shape isn’t it? I’m not sure about how that one strand verges off toward Nordlingen but sacrifices can be made. I wonder if cities can move. Do you know of cities can move? Nordlingen should move. No just leave it, it looks really good. I can’t wait to go to Germany and buy a pair of those pants that are lederhosen or whatever except mine wouldn’t be made from leather they’d be made with linen or something so that it would be summer fresh. Can you do that?” she said, babbling on and on without being asked. “Hey, they yodel in Germany right? We can yodel! Do you want to yodel? I’ve always wanted to yodel.”

The concept of a pierogi sandwich was so incredibly interesting that it made Lola want to conduct an experiment then and there. “So genius.” She shook her head and smiled wide. “Everything that is delicious packed into one. I was actually going to say neither but Poland has those doughnuts with the jelly and the jam and the sugar. Oh, Miles, I wonder if there is such a thing as pierogi–flavored–doughnut–rye sandwiches. Wouldn’t that be weird? They must sell those on the borders. I wonder if all the borders of the countries have wonky food combinations.” It was certainly something to consider wasn’t it? Fusion cuisine was huge from what she’d heard on a Muggle television show where people cooked things to win sets of knives.

“You’re very logical, it does make sense to visit closer countries around  instead of forming a lightning bolt.” She bit her lip and surveyed the map. “Which country do you really, really, really want to go to because those are the ones we should divert close attention to and not try to double over in. Let’s go to Romania, it’s the one with the vampires! Oh, oh, and the one with the triangle shaped buildings we talked about in Muggle studies.”

Oh Greenland, she figured it must’ve been wooded area also. “They weren’t very original with their naming were they? I would have called it something like Styrofoamland or Cakeland to throw people off.” Nodding, she applauded her own (very good) idea silently in her head. It seemed like a good idea, but at the end of the day, tricking people was never fun. “I think positioning of Greenland should depend on how you want to end your vacation. I think Santa Claus lives in Greenland, so you could either end with a factory tour or we could look for those icebergs that crushed that big boat in Argentina. The Tetanuc, was it?”

Lola had won, and Miles was glad. He couldn't top complimenting someone's style (in any sense of the word), and that particular nickname, Smiles, always got him. He'd even named the s'mores after it! He simply continued to grin in that lazy, easy-going manner that made him an ideal magnet for lost dogs and displaced foreigners. "I like your hair the way it is," he assured her. "If you cut it too often it would look too perfect. It's better when you let it grow a little. It's very... Lola." If it were creepy of him to say or analyze it that deeply, he didn't notice. He studied her so often and so blatantly that it was just second nature to pick up on these things. Also, Miles' own hair was often good for mussing up with his hands, and it was more fun if they could match in that messy-chic, teenage manner, like proper best mates.

Like with most things, the boy took his time and considered all of Lola's question-- each one as interesting to him as the last. It was unsurprising that naturally curious people were his favorite. "I don't know of any cities that can move, but I bet there are stories about it," he offered. "Oh, and apparently the giant plates that the continents sit on move really, really slow. They were once one giant mass of land, but they've drifted apart." Which would have been convenient for the purposes of their travel, but not nearly as fun. And then there was the fact that wizards could Apparate and Floo themselves almost wherever they please.

Lederhosen was a wonderful word. And yodel. Where did people come up with these things when creating languages? Miles sort of wished there were spells that sounded as cool. It was the muggles who had invented those funny pants, too, and Miles was glad for it. Everyone needed a bit of humor in their lives. "We can yodel and go see an opera, and then compare ourselves to the singers." At this he rubbed his throat, as if just thinking about it both hurt and tickled. Those people had been training their entire lives. If Miles ever became any kind of singer, he would be the kind who sounded gruffy and out of key, but you listened because he had decent points to make or just really weird things to say-- especially if Lola helped write the lyrics. "We'll collect records of all the weird music in each country we visit," he suggested, now feeling it was a must. "And you can wear your lederhosen when we come back and play it for our parents." He smiled and elbowed the girl knowingly. He could see his father's face in his mind's eyes, if his father had five minutes to spare. His sisters would find it brilliant.

All the talk of food made Miles want to dash to the kitchens. He hadn't visited Dusty the elf since last week, when he'd run into the future first year Mairead, a fellow Dubliner and possibly one of the most interesting muggleborns Miles had ever come across. And now he really had the desire to watch several more cowboy films before they visited the 'wild west' on their grand tour of the globe.

"If there's not such a thing, we'll just make one. A border feast." His smile almost turned dreamy at the thought; anyone else's might have turned nauseous. It was hard to decide which one place he wanted to visit the most when each one had so much to offer. "Egypt," he said pleasantly, remembering the pyramids they'd studied. "Yeah, I think we have to visit the pyramids, or it wouldn't be a proper trip, would it?" He took another posted and drew several little mock 3-D triangles before sticking it near the top of Africa. "The mummies live in those." He was glad he's grown up in Ireland, calling his mother 'Ma' most of the time, or he might have been tempted to ask why muggle mothers wrapped themselves in cloth when they were ready to hit the hay for life.

Laughing at Lola's analysis of Greenland, and wondering whether she was mixed of up, or if it was he, the Hufflepuff simply shook his head nostalgically for something he had not yet experienced. He was pretty sure Greenland was ice, and Iceland wasn't quite as cold as Greenland. If Cakeland existed, he would definitely live there by now. "Is that where the St. Nick bloke supposedly lives, then? I just had a conversation about him the other day. Would you ever want a flying sleigh, Lola?" He'd been pondering it for a long time now, and how it seemed much safer than a broom. But things cold also go wrong, and if there was only one to be had, Miles didn't want to deprive the world's children of their toys-- if this fairytale man existed. They could use a heavy charm on a normal sleigh. "I vote... whatever the mainland option is," he admitted sheepishly. "I don't think I'd want to trot around on ice-burgs that managed to off a whole ship." Miles might or might not have been slightly terrified of large bodies of water.

“Which ones are the continents again?” she closed her eyes slightly, “Wait, no no no no, don’t tell me. America is a continent and Canada, too? Wait, no, they’re still stuck together. Are you saying that the home country aka Great Britain was actually connected to all the other countries?” She shook her head. What a daft person whoever decided to move the countries was. “Maybe moving countries aren’t such a great thing, but hopefully Nordlingen will move by the time we leave. What does a continent require to actually move? Thestrals pulling chains?” She stared into the distance and weighed the options. “I would only allow that if the Thestrals were given water, breaks, and maybe even a thirty minute lunch break.”

“An opera with the ladies with the Viking hats?!” Lola smiled widely. She had seen pictures of an opera once and it had people in costume and everything except that these people, instead of delivering drama, yeah, they delivered ear shatteringly high notes of music. Anyone with vocal chords that well–trained was certainly something to go see. “That’s perfect, actually. I think the Germans love a good opera.” The girl had recalled reading this in a travel brochure of Germany. “Since we’re already collecting records, that reminds me. My dad says he wants me to collect slices of Amaretto cake to bring back because he says he’s working on something, but I really just think he wants to eat it all since Amaretto cakes are his favorite kind of cake.” She thought of other things she may need to buy while in any of the countries they had just laid down. “How long do you think cheeses can last without refrigeration?”

“Egypt, that’s right! That’s where they have all the tombs and the thieves and the savannah and the revolution in 1952. And the mummies, oh yes, the mummies! I wonder whose mummies they are and why they left them there…” All of her information may have been incorrect, but it sounded correct. She wasn’t exactly sure if there was actually a savannah in Egypt. “Can we go on one of those Safari things when in Africa or would you rather wait until we visit Australia? I can’t wait to go into New Zealand since I heard they have rocks and elves, possibly maybe.”

She wondered if Father Christmas actually lived in Greenland. It seemed like he would live there since it was all wooded area and no one really live in Greenland. “I think it’s only called Greenland so that people won’t want to visit it. Imagine if it was called Santaland. Everyone would be there all year asking for raises and forwards on their Christmas gifts. I’m sure that would probably take away from the working environment. Plus, they must get many customer service complaints all throughout the year so he probably doesn’t want to annoy his elves more. I heard he’s a good boss to his elves but they’re a different kind of elf, they’re not house elves.” She paused and wondered what a sleigh might be like. “It’s probably like a luxury auto–mo–bile those bigger ones that tear holes in the earth. I wonder if they’re harmful to the earth or they’re just more comfortable? I wonder if they put in those seat fastener chain things so that you don’t fall out.”

Lola shuffled through the brochures quickly and fished out one of Argentina. Opening the pamphlet, the first thing she noticed, “Hey, they have Llamas in Argentina! What are those?” She pushed the brochure toward Miles so he could take a look at the animals, too. Looking at the map she wondered one thing and changed the subject, “Do you think there’s an underworld that everyone talks about? You know… The one with demons and ladies in tight leather clothing?”

Miles ran a hand through his own hair, nodding. America and Canada were connected, which made them one continent, but Britain was a special case and was part of Europe, even though it was an island. It was strange and fascinating how this geography stuff worked, sort of like wizarding portraits, but at a much slower pace. Miles always wondered why Hogwarts didn't devote more time to things muggles learned-- although they was a good deal of social studies packed into their history lessons, and always trusty maps in their books to help them visualize the goblin rebellions. "They're the big yokes, next step up from countries," he concluded, though it was safe to say Lola had suddenly remembered this in her eagerness to recall every fact she'd learned. It amazed him, how many random things she could recite. It was thrilling. "I think Great Britain and Ireland have always been full of spirit, though." He winked, feeling a bit guilty, but in a good way. He knew that no sect of humans was any better or worse than another, but it was still comforting to be a part of something.

Thestrals pulling continents apart: now that was brilliant. "I think you should submit that idea to the local board of scientists," he encouraged. "Thestrals and volcanoes and earthquakes all working together. And maybe trolls with their clubs," he laughed. He could imagine the ground shaking at a time when trolls were more populous. "Not to mention dinosaurs from years and years back. They were cousins with the dragons, but the muggles don't know that." Miles fully agreed that Thestrals should be treated humanely. Animals, like people, needed to breathe now and then. The fact that Lola always remembered to mention things like that made her all the more endearing to the Hufflepuff. To Miles, she was both dreamier and more thoughtful than anyone in the world. It was a rare talent to be both, he though.

Viking hats. He'd fancy one of those. Just like the cowboy hats he'd been favoring since his discussion with Mairead. If he remembered correctly, Fauna had a thing for hats-- maybe she could help them out. Or they could buy her one in Germany, the opera's souvenir shop. "We could always get several. You know, backup Amaretto cakes. Some for your dad to use, some to eat, some for... us." Sneaky, sneaky. "Cheese, too. Hmmm... maybe a day? Two days?" He'd never though about it before, but it would be a useful to know. "Oh, what about a cooling charm?" He offered slowly, studying her for a reaction.

The idea of cruising around Egypt, the African desert, Australia, and New Zealand only made the badger more excited, and more determined to put his best effort into the planning process. Organization may not have been his forte, but Miles worked hard where it counted. He would gladly give up an extra hour of sleep, or a routine Saturday nap to research ancient tombs. Even when he was supposed to doing certain mundane things for school (in other words, studying his less less interesting subjects), he would sometimes sneak a peak at one of their many brochures or newspaper clippings. "Whichever you prefer," he insisted jovially, but not in a particularly pushy way. "Maybe one of the professors has been around the globe on their own post-graduation trip. I bet one or two have done a Safari excursion. Where did your parents go? My mum only went to Italy and Switzerland, and my dad started work right after school," he admitted, laughing. He was confident that he and Lola would spend way more time seeing the world. Life was too short not to take the time to enjoy it... if that even made sense. And it did. In Miles' head.

Taking the liberty to cover Greenland with his back as he and Lola discussed its curious name, Miles looked up at the ceiling. Sometimes he wished the whole castle had the same enchanted aerial view as the Great Hall, but maybe it was better off exactly how it was; it made the whole thing more unique, at least. With his hands now folded behind his head, he tilted his face toward wherever Lola was now, and grinned. There was a reason he was called Smiles. "Yeah, a place called Santaland would be overrun. They'd have to pave one of those giant parking lots like at the outskirts of Dublin, and even then it would be a pain because of all of the snow. Maybe most of the visitors would have sleighs, too, or those auto- er- cars." She'd just spoke of them. "Or wagons." He'd talked about wagons with the little Dubliner, and it was now his ambition to ride in one. "Brooms would be a bit easier than cars, in that case, but I still thing muggles got it pretty right with those things-- even if they pollute. They seem dead useful, don't they?"

Llamas obviously weren't native to Britain, and nor were they anything students studied in Care of Magical Creatures. But Miles knew what they looked and acted like because he had a giant book of world animals stuffed under his bed at home, beside a box full of Chocolate Frog cards and a jar of rusty, dusty knuts. It was his spare change jar, to use on rainy days. Or, hopefully on their globetrotting adventure. "They're like camels," he said. "If camels bred with sheep and... Old English Sheepdogs." That sounded about right. He rubbed the side of his cheek thoughtfully.

Sitting up a little on his elbows, the Hufflepuff patted the spot next to him, which was mostly ocean, but he was pretty sure Lola could swim (unlike some people called Miles Faraday). "Come here," he invited. He laid back again, slowly and giving them both time to settle in. Finally, he pointed upward, at nothing in particular. He hadn't forgotten her question, which was one of the most curious to date. "I dunno, but if there is, there's got to be something on the other side too, right?" Afterworlds... heaven, hell, alternative universes, karma, and second lives were things which always fascinated him, particularly because the thought of what might happen after death was something that people of all backgrounds-- muggles, wizards, spiritual, and otherwise-- seemed to ponder at some point in their lives. They were all connected by uncertainty, even the people who disliked each other. It made Miles happy, in a weird way. Turning to look at Lola again, he reached out and gave her hand a little squeeze. "It's going to be a good trip," he promised. "We'll discover everything together."