"Yes," Harry said with much less hope than he might have, two minutes ago. He looked up from the book to take stock of what they had, which was not much. No food, no water. The latter they could conjure out of the air, especially while it was so cold, but they would need something to hold it in - a hollowed-out Quaffle perhaps, or just their hands. The wooden ball boxes would not hold much of anything. Not much space in here, either, and there was no way of telling how long the containment would last. "I suppose we'd better wait," he sighed. "At least for a little while. I suppose if all else fails we could burn it down," he said, wincing inwardly at the idea more for the loss of all the broomsticks than for the danger implicit in that suggestion. A good shield charm might protect them long enough for that.