Presley does not like heights. It's not something he'll admit to—who ever heard of a Quidditch cheerleader who's afraid of heights?—but his face is looking a little pale as he pulls away from the railing and braces one hand against the wall of the trailer.

"Not a lot of room for us to maneuver here," he mutters. He tightens his grip on his burner wand. "And really, you don't think it's the incredibly obvious tarot deck?"