I hit the ground with a wet squelch, mud cushioning my impact and turning what could have been a painful tumble across the ground into a roll. Putrid water and filth splattered across my face and soaked into my robe, the self-cleaning charm imbued into the fabric struggling to keep up with the rapid soiling.

My roll ended painfully against a short, withered-looking tree, the impact knocking the remaining air from my lungs and probably leaving an unpleasant bruise on my side. I leaned to the side, coughing and spluttering as I did my best to purge the disgusting, foul-smelling water from my mouth.

Once the worst of it was gone, I slowly sat up and looked around, doing my best to ignore the aching pain in my side. I was in a…swamp? I’d never been in a swamp before, but it looked vaguely like some of the portraits I’d seen hanging around the house.

The air was warm and humid, and carried a heavy smell of rot and decay. The tree I’d crashed into was sticking out of a muddy hill surrounded by detritus-filled stagnant water. Clouds of insects buzzed around me and I could see a single yellowish-green frog perched motionlessly at the edge of the water.

I…I was alive? I blinked rapidly, my mind spinning as I tried to remember what had happened. Looking down, I could see my wand clutched tightly in my fist, the smooth wood a comforting presence against my fingers. I shakily adjusted my grip, then tapped the end of my wand against the tip of my index finger. “Prior Incantato,” I whispered softly, vaguely dreading what I was about to see.

A ghostly flame shaped like the head of a hydra spilled from the tip of my wand and I hastily flicked my wrist, ending the spell before the shadow of fiendfyre could emerge fully into the world. I’d already seen enough to confirm the validity of my most recent, slightly hazy memories.

I exhaled heavily and slumped against the trunk of the tree beside me, ignoring the feeling of the unpleasantly moist bark against my side. I had no idea what was going on, and I didn’t like that one bit.

Okay Hydrys. One step at a time. Deal with the current situation first, then you can worry about what, where, why, and how.

Despite having just cast two of the most powerful, draining spells I knew in rapid succession, I actually felt pretty good. Well, my side ached, I was starving, had an unpleasant headache, and was caked in mud and other disgusting things I didn’t want to think about, but magically I felt pretty good.

Okay. One step at a time.

I flicked my wand and summoned a half-rotten branch that was sticking out of the mud towards me. It landed on the ground next to me with a wet splat and I transfigured it into a wooden goblet and then the wooden goblet into steel. A moment later, I blasted it and the ground around it with a silently cast Incendio, burning away the scuttling bugs that had come along with the branch and hopefully sterilizing the cup too.

A similarly silent Aguamenti cooled the cup down and filled it with cool, drinkable water. I snatched the cup off the ground and drank the entire thing in a handful of seconds, then refilled it and drained it two more times in rapid succession. I’d only been in a ministry holding cell for three days, but they’d given me a bare minimum of food and water and the hunger and thirst were really getting to me.

I filled the goblet a fourth time and then splashed the water all over my face. The cool water felt absolutely amazing and washed most of the grime off my skin. I sighed softly in relief and let the metal goblet drop from my fingers. It squelched onto the ground and began to roll away, only to revert back into a stick as I intentionally ended the two transfigurations.

Okay, I already felt much better. Next, I pointed my wand at myself. “Scourgify, Scourgify, Scourgify,” I chanted rapidly, banishing the majority of the dirt, mud, and other filth from my black robes and leather shoes. Then I pointed first at my robe, and then at my hands and face. “Tergeo, Tergeo.” The wiping charm was much less potent than the more all purpose scouring charm, but it was also much gentler on skin and was good at getting rid of leftover bits of dirt.

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Looking down at myself, I found myself looking much more like a presentable wizard and not some sort of dirty swamp-muggle. I wrinkled my nose as I saw some manner of many-legged insect crawling across my shoe and hastily erected a pest-repelling charm around myself that sent the horrible thing flying off into the distance. It also cleared the air around me of gnats and mosquitoes and I resolved to keep the charm up until I got out of this filthy place.

Now feeling much more like myself, I closed my eyes and focused on the series of events that had brought me here. It all started a few days ago when I’d snuck out of Hogwarts to perform a ritual I’d found in the restricted section of the library. I’d been reading a fascinating tome called ‘Secrets of the Darkest Art’ when I’d come across a potent-sounding empowerment ritual that only required a few muggle and squib sacrifices, a much lower cost than most of the magics described in the book.

The ritual seemed simple enough. It needed thirteen muggles that fulfilled a few simple conditions, three female squibs, and a handful of potion ingredients I could easily grab from any apothecary. It also needed to be performed on the night of a clear, blue moon. Coincidentally, the very next day was supposed to be a blue moon––my astronomy Professor hadn’t been able to shut up about it for weeks.

It had seemed like fate, really. Like all the stars had lined up just for me. And so, the very next evening I’d snuck out of Hogwarts using a secret passage that my grandfather Phineas Nigellus Black’s portrait had told me about years ago. I already knew how to apparate––I’d gotten my license over the winter holiday––and the Trace on my wand had dissipated when I turned seventeen, so I had no trouble heading to London once I’d left the bounds of Hogwarts’s Anti-Disapparition jinx.

Getting the ingredients hadn’t taken long––they’d cost barely two-dozen galleons at the Apothecary––and neither had subduing the muggles I needed. However, finding three appropriate squibs had ended up taking several hours, leaving me rather short on time. That was probably how the Aurors found me. I must have gotten sloppy and left some clue behind at the third squib’s shack.

They’d apparated in right as I was finishing the ritual, the last muggle’s blood still staining my dragonhide gloves. With my wand stowed securely in its holster and only a silver knife in my hands, I hadn’t been able to put up any resistance and was subdued in a matter of moments.

From there, things had moved very quickly. I’d spent three days in a Ministry holding cell, and then my trial had lasted barely more than an hour. I remembered sitting in shock as they found me guilty on all charges, my frantic escape and short fight with the Aurors. My lips curled into a small smile as I remembered the sight of my killing curse hitting uncle Sirius. It was a better end than that traitor deserved, but at least I’d gotten him. Hopefully the fiendfyre got Arcturus, but even if he’d survived, his days were numbered. Damn blood traitor!

And then…what? I remembered the dementor’s touch, desperation, casting fiendfyre, and then…and then…

I focused, squeezing my eyes tightly shut as I tried to use what little Occlumency I knew to better remember those final, frantic moments. I could just barely recall…something. Something igniting at the center of my chest. Falling. An endless expanse of energy. Darkness. And then suddenly I’d been…here. In this dirty, smelly swamp. Huh.

Well. I was probably a fugitive now. Not only had I been sentenced to Azkaban, but I’d also cast fiendfyre and the killing curse––both insanely illegal pieces of dark magic—in the Wizengamot chambers. And I doubted I could count on my family to shelter me, not after killing both the current lord and (hopefully) his heir. I was on my own.

Maybe I could try to get ahead of the news? “Torbey!” I called out softly, calling for my house elf. There was no response. Either Torbey had already been commanded to ignore my orders or I was too far away for him to hear me.

I frowned and stood up. I needed to get to Gringotts and withdraw as much money as I could before someone cut off my vault access. I focused on the Diagon Alley appearance point and twisted. My feet slipped on the wet mud and I fell to my knees, but the painful impact barely registered.

My apparition had failed, but not in a way I’d ever experienced before. I knew what it felt like to try and apparate somewhere that is too far away––it was immensely painful and I’d decided to never try doing that again after my very first attempt. It also hadn’t felt like I’d crashed into a ward, and a quick pop from one side of the muddy hill to the other confirmed that theory. Instead, it felt like…I was trying to apparate to somewhere made up. Like I was focusing on a painting, not a real place I’d been dozens of times.

That was…concerning. I looked around the swamp, peering suspiciously at the scraggly trees and the garbage strewn all across the ground. Where…was I? England didn’t really have any swamps, as far as I knew. Merlin and Morgana, how had I even gotten here? The last thing I remembered was lying on the ground in the Ministry, about to be consumed by either a dementor or fiendfyre.

How had I escaped the Ministry’s robust anti-portkey and anti-disapparation spells? What sort of accidental magic was powerful enough to punch through centuries-old wards, and if not accidental magic, what else could it have been?

I didn’t know, but I certainly intended to find out. First though, I needed to decide what I should do next.