Cold... so cold. That was Lyla's first sensation.
The moment she stepped out of Nurmengard Castle, a bone-chilling frost pierced her, followed immediately by boundless darkness.
She felt trapped, as if sinking into deep-sea mud or tangled in a dense, suffocating forest. The crushing restraint persisted around her until, finally, she experienced a heart-stopping plummet.
It was a sensation unlike anything she had ever experienced—not even when she had fallen from Durmstrang's highest tower. But finally, she opened her eyes.
"Where am I...?" she murmured. She stared at her surroundings, utterly disoriented. She distinctly remembered stepping out of Nurmengard's Great Hall just moments ago.
But this place was nothing like Nurmengard. She was in a seaside cave, where the incoming tide occasionally brushed against her worn, damp leather boots.
She must have fainted, though she had no memory of why. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath to shake off the suffocating dizziness.
Her thoughts scrambled to remember what she was supposed to do. Lord Grindelwald's mission... Wait. Lord Grindelwald!
That was Lyla's first coherent thought: Did Lord Grindelwald win?
She clearly recalled that before she vanished, he was about to face an opponent he believed he had no chance of defeating.
Pursing her lips, she raised her wand. She focused her mind on her destination, desperate to Apparate back to Nurmengard and discover the duel's outcome.
But her wand merely gave a pathetic tremble. Nothing happened.
It seemed her holly wand, with its Veela hair core, was broken.
Whether from the seawater or the strange spatial journey, the damage was done. Regardless of the cause, Lyla couldn't return to Nurmengard right now.
This left her in an incredibly dangerous predicament. She was entirely alone in an unfamiliar place, without a functioning wand.
Guilt washed over her; she was already failing Lord Grindelwald's trust. But she forced herself to shake it off.
No... no... Lyla, you must not fall into despair, she scolded herself. You carry his final mission.
Slapping her own cheeks to rouse her fighting spirit, she leaned against the damp cave wall and slowly climbed to her feet.
Her legs felt as stiff as wooden planks, perhaps from too much inactivity. Her days confined in Nurmengard had been a bit too comfortable, all things considered.
With a heavy sigh, she stepped out of the cavern and trudged aimlessly down the coastline. An endless, vast sandy beach stretched out before her.
She figured there had to be a coastal settlement nearby. Even a Muggle village would suffice.
Looking out at the gloomy coastal weather, she murmured, "Is this... Britain?"
Lyla's instincts were correct. After two grueling hours of walking, a small town finally came into view.
However, as she drew close enough to read the hanging shop signs, her eyes widened in shock.
The undeniably English lettering confirmed it. She had somehow been magically transported all the way from the mountains of Austria to the Atlantic coast of Britain.
How is this even possible?! she panicked.
Just then, several pedestrians hurried past. Startled, Lyla shrank back, burying herself in her robes and blending into the shadows of an alleyway wall.
Lyla was terrified of these bustling crowds. Her severe social anxiety made interacting with strangers an agonizing ordeal; even making eye contact filled her with dread.
But it wasn't just her shyness that paralyzed her. It was the identity of these people. They were Muggles.
She was deeply afraid of Muggles. Her mother had always warned her that they were terrifying monsters who hunted and ate Veela and wizards. Lord Grindelwald certainly held no affection for them, either.
Moving like a frightened mouse, she navigated the narrow streets and side alleys, carefully avoiding the bustling crowds.
Whenever she chanced upon a group of Muggle children, she nervously ducked her head and gave them a wide berth.
Too terrifying... there are simply too many Muggles, she thought, trembling. There were far more people here than the entire student body of Durmstrang.
If Durmstrang had been this crowded, Lyla suspected she would have left the school much earlier—whether by accelerating her graduation or simply dropping out out of sheer terror.
Fortunately, the locals seemed completely preoccupied with their own business. If anyone had tried to strike up a conversation, Lyla was certain she would have passed out on the spot.
Soon, she wandered into a secluded, shadowy dead end. It was gloomy and cramped, but the isolation finally allowed Lyla to breathe a sigh of relief.
At least here, she didn't have to worry about ambushing Muggles. Now, she could actually focus on formulating a plan.
Based on the road signs she had skimmed, she was somewhere in Devon, England. That was a considerable distance from Diagon Alley, the only British wizarding hub she knew of.
What a disaster to be stranded without a wand... Subconsciously, she pulled out the broken wood and examined it.
The wand that had faithfully served her through her Durmstrang years and her time in Grindelwald's army was completely ruined. A profound sadness settled over her.
She had heard that many wizards buried their broken wands beneath the corresponding wand-wood tree, returning the magic to nature. She wondered idly where the holly trees in Britain grew...
Her thoughts were violently interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.
Scuff... scuff... The person was dragging their feet against the cobblestones, sounding incredibly exhausted.
"Oh!" Lyla gasped, frantically scanning the alleyway. Finding nowhere to hide, she clutched her broken wand and crouched low, trying to blend into the shadows.
The dragging footsteps drew closer and closer. Lyla buried her head in her knees, squeezed her eyes shut, and prayed to Merlin she went unnoticed.
Unfortunately, her luck had run dry. The dragging footsteps stopped right in front of her.
"You..." a voice rasped. It was incredibly weak and wheezy, like the final, strained note of an old saxophone.
"I... I don't know you!" Lyla blurted out. She yanked her hood down further, desperately trying to conceal her pointed ears.
"I don't know you either, miss." The stranger paused to gasp for air, which finally prompted Lyla to peek up at him.
He was a thin, refined-looking middle-aged man. He was likely younger than Lord Grindelwald chronologically, though he looked terribly aged and worn. His face was sickly pale, as if he had just survived a nightmare.
Yet, despite his haggard appearance, his eyes were incredibly bright and piercing as they locked onto Lyla.
"But even so... I know you shouldn't be here," he whispered, his voice grave. "This is no place for you."
"Ah?!" Lyla gasped, biting her lip. She hadn't expected to be interrogated!
Was he... a wizard? An Auror from the Ministry of Magic?! Had they already tracked her down to arrest her?
She hadn't even done anything wrong! Then again, the last time the authorities came for her, she hadn't done anything wrong either.
"I... I won't go with you!" Lyla declared, mustering every ounce of her courage as she aimed her useless wand at him.
"Then you'll have to take that up with the Ministry," the frail man replied with a wry smile. "And... didn't your Hogwarts professors teach you not to casually point your wand at people?"
"Hogwarts... professors?" Lyla echoed, utterly stunned. She had no idea what this man was talking about.
She knew what Hogwarts was, of course—it was the British wizarding school. But what did that have to do with her?
"Which Hogwarts House are you in?" the man pressed gently. "You don't strike me as a Gryffindor or a Slytherin..."
He leaned down slightly, a knowing look in his eye. "Ah... I see. You must be a Hufflepuff, am I right?"
Hufflepuff? Lyla pursed her lips as it finally clicked. This man thought she was a Hogwarts student!
Do I really look that young? she wondered defensively.
She desperately wanted to correct him and announce she had already graduated from Durmstrang. But if she argued, she would have to explain her actual origins, risking complete exposure.
So, swallowing her pride, Lyla simply pursed her lips and gave a small, hesitant nod.
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