Sirius Black was jolted from his sleep, an uneasy feeling spreading through him. The calm, serene magic of this strange land had lulled him into a state of ease earlier, but now something was wrong. His wards had triggered, the ones he’d meticulously placed around his makeshift camp after arriving in this unknown place. Sirius had learned to trust his instincts—years of fighting in the war and surviving Azkaban had honed them to razor sharpness. Something was out there.

He didn't move right away, his mind working fast. He reached out with his magic, feeling the disturbance beyond the glowing dome that protected him. Whatever it was, it was organized, and there were many of them. Not wildlife this time. Not the birds or horses he’d spotted earlier. These were deliberate, hunting creatures, and they were surrounding him.

Sirius tightened his grip on his wand and took a breath, feeling the power of this land flow through him. The magic here was potent, much more so than back home. He could feel it strengthen him, making him sharper, more aware. He placed a few reinforcing layers over his protective dome, settling into a state of quiet readiness. There was no use panicking.

Suddenly, arrows flew toward the camp, one after another. The night air was filled with the sharp hiss of projectiles cutting through the dark. They came from all directions, a precise attack, but each arrow bounced off the invisible shield surrounding him. The dome flickered slightly as the arrows hit, but it held firm.

Sirius watched the dark shapes outside, listening to the sounds of their movement. These things weren’t like the creatures he had seen earlier. They moved with a predatory intelligence, communicating in low, guttural growls and snarls. He could hear them muttering to each other, their voices harsh, filled with malice. Sirius couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying, but the tone was unmistakable.

For a moment, everything went still. The creatures outside the protective dome seemed to think they had succeeded. They believed him dead, pierced by the arrows that now littered the ground. He could hear their growls change to something like satisfaction, followed by the sound of movement—perhaps they were checking for a body.

Sirius, however, was very much alive.

Time to see what you’re dealing with, he thought.

He flicked his wand, muttering, “Lumos Maxima.”

A brilliant white light exploded from the tip of his wand, bathing the entire area in a dazzling glow. The darkness retreated as the trees, the stream, and the tall grass became illuminated in stark detail. And then, Sirius saw them.

They were unlike anything he had ever encountered, even in his years fighting against Death Eaters and Dark creatures. These things were monstrous—towering, hunched figures with leathery skin, grotesque faces twisted into snarls, and crude weapons clutched in their clawed hands. Their armor was jagged, pieced together from scraps of metal, and their eyes glowed faintly in the light, filled with a savage hunger.

Sirius couldn’t help but stare for a moment, taking in the sight of these creatures. They were like nothing from his world. They reminded him of the tales he had read as a boy about goblins and trolls, but far more brutal. He had no name for them, but their malevolent intent was clear.

The creatures—there had to be at least twenty of them—blinked in confusion at the sudden burst of light. They growled and grunted in their strange, guttural language, pointing at the still-standing protective dome as they realized their prey was not yet dead.

Sirius smirked, his grip on his wand tightening. "Alright then," he muttered to himself. "Let’s get this over with."

With a swift movement, he flicked his wand, sending a cutting spell toward the nearest creature. The air sizzled with magic, and the spell sliced through the night like a blade, striking the creature squarely in the chest. It let out a guttural roar, stumbling backward before collapsing into the grass.

The others reacted immediately, roaring in response and charging toward him, their crude weapons raised. But Sirius was ready. The magic of the land surged through him, amplifying his spells far beyond what he was used to. He moved quickly, sending a barrage of curses and hexes at the charging creatures. His wand flicked through the air in rapid succession, sending streaks of green and red light through the night as he cut down the orcs one by one.

They were fierce, stronger than any human, but they were no match for magic. Arrows flew at him again, but he deflected them with a quick shield charm, redirecting the projectiles back toward the attackers. The orcs panicked, their guttural language turning frantic as they realized their prey was fighting back, and with magic far beyond anything they had encountered.

Sirius moved with the precision of a seasoned duelist, his spells lethal and unrelenting. He wasn’t holding back, not here. These creatures had come to kill him, and he was not going to let that happen. He sent a bone-crushing hex at one orc, watching as its arm twisted at an unnatural angle before it fell to the ground, howling in pain. Another orc charged at him, swinging a jagged sword, but Sirius disarmed it with a flick of his wand, following up with a curse that sent the creature flying back into the trees.

The battle was intense, and though it lasted only minutes, it felt like hours. Sirius deflected arrow after arrow, his magic pulsing through him as he cut down the attackers. The orcs tried to regroup, their leader barking orders in its strange language, but Sirius was relentless. One by one, they fell, until the last orc stood alone, its crude blade raised in a final, futile attempt to attack. Sirius blasted it backward with a forceful spell, watching as it crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Finally, the night grew still again. The only sound was the soft crackle of the fire and the distant rush of the stream. The bodies of the orcs lay scattered around the campsite, twisted and broken.

Sirius stood in the middle of the wreckage, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. His heart was still racing, the adrenaline of battle slowly fading. He looked down at his wand, still glowing faintly in the dark.

It was over. The creatures—whatever they were—were dead.

Sirius walked over to one of the bodies, crouching down to get a better look. The creature was massive, its face contorted in death, tusks jutting from its lower jaw. Its eyes were still open, glazed over, but Sirius could see the brutality in its expression.

"What the hell are you?" he muttered, shaking his head.

He didn’t know what these creatures were, but they had clearly been after him. Perhaps they had sensed his magic, or maybe they had just been hunting anything that crossed their path. Either way, he had survived.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Sighing, Sirius collapsed onto the ground next to his campfire, surveying the destruction. His campsite was a mess, his wards shattered, the ground littered with bodies and arrows. But he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

As he sat there, his wand resting in his lap, he couldn’t help but think of Harry. The boy had to be worried sick, and Sirius had no way of knowing what had happened after he fell through the veil. For now, though, he was stuck here—wherever "here" was.

Sirius sighed again, staring up at the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly above, indifferent to the battle that had just taken place.

"One day at a time," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "One day at a time."

Sirius stood in the aftermath of the battle, his heart still pounding, the weight of the situation settling in. The creatures—these brutish, monstrous things—weren’t ordinary beasts. They had come for him, hunting him with a level of organization that made his skin crawl. There had to be more of them out there, and he knew they would come looking for the ones he had just killed. Staying here, in this unknown wilderness, was no longer an option.

He glanced around the campsite, now littered with the remains of the creatures. Their crude, medieval-style weapons were scattered across the ground, maces, axes, and bows among them. Sirius crouched and examined the bow one of the larger creatures had wielded. It wasn’t well-made, not compared to what he knew from human craftsmanship, but it would serve its purpose. He collected the arrows they had fired at him, tucking them into a makeshift quiver. His wand was still his greatest tool, but there was no harm in having a backup.

He gathered the bodies together with a few flicks of his wand, stacking them in a heap. Fire was the best way to cover his tracks. The creatures, whatever they were, wouldn’t leave their dead out for long—he had no doubt they would be looking for their missing comrades. With another wave of his wand, he set the pile ablaze. The fire crackled and roared, and soon the thick, acrid smell of burning flesh filled the night air.

Sirius turned away from the fire, his mind racing. There was no sense in waiting for dawn. He wasn’t going to sit around and let these creatures hunt him down. It was time to move, and he needed to put as much distance between himself and this place as possible.

"West," he muttered to himself, though he had no real reason for choosing that direction. It just felt like the right choice—the first instinct that came to him. He was a Black, and Blacks always trusted their instincts.

He grabbed what little he had: the bow, arrows, and the crude weapons he had collected. He would find a use for them later, maybe break them down for parts or enchant them. But for now, they were better than nothing.

"Lumos," Sirius whispered, and his wand tip flared to life, casting a soft glow over the dark landscape. He glanced back once at the burning pile of corpses, the flames licking the night sky, before turning his back on the scene.

The night air was cool, but his mind was focused. Every fiber of his being told him to keep moving, to stay ahead of whatever other dangers might be lurking in this strange land. He walked quickly, but carefully, his eyes darting around as he scanned the trees and hills for any signs of movement. The night was eerily silent now, the earlier noise of the orcs replaced by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant babble of the stream.

As he walked westward, Sirius’s thoughts wandered back to Harry. His godson was in the middle of a battle, and Sirius had no way of knowing how things had turned out. Guilt twisted in his gut. He hadn’t meant to fall through that cursed veil, but here he was, stuck in some strange world, cut off from everything and everyone he knew. The only thing he could do now was survive—and find a way back.

The landscape around him slowly shifted as he walked. The tall trees loomed overhead, their canopies thick and dense, and the stream he had camped near followed his path, snaking through the hills. The ground underfoot was soft, covered in moss and fallen leaves, but Sirius’s boots made no sound as he moved. He was used to traveling silently, a skill honed during his years on the run and fighting in the war.

The air here was different, though—charged with an almost tangible magic. It thrummed around him, and despite the danger, Sirius couldn’t help but feel stronger for it. His magic had never felt so potent, so sharp. It coursed through him with every step, ready to be called upon at a moment’s notice. It gave him confidence, a reassurance that no matter what lay ahead, he could face it.

Hours passed as Sirius continued west, his mind clear and focused on survival. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig made him tighten his grip on his wand, but nothing emerged from the darkness to challenge him. He wasn’t sure how far he had traveled, but it was far enough to make him feel a little more secure.

Eventually, the trees began to thin, and Sirius could make out the faint outlines of mountains in the distance. A faint glow lit the horizon, not yet the dawn but the prelude to it. He paused, surveying the landscape ahead. The stream he had been following led down into a wide valley, bordered by the mountains on one side and more forest on the other. It was a strategic location—good visibility, with water close by and plenty of cover.

He could set up another camp here, somewhere defensible. But first, he needed to rest and plan his next move. There were still so many unknowns about this place—where he was, what kind of creatures inhabited it, and whether there were any humans here at all.

Sirius’s mind drifted again to the creatures he had fought. He still had no idea what they were, but he could only assume there were more of them out there. They had spoken in some kind of language, and they had weapons and armor. These weren’t mindless beasts—they were part of some kind of society or culture, and that made them even more dangerous.

But no matter where he was or what came next, Sirius Black was not going to be hunted. He would find a way to survive, to fight back. He would find a way to return to Harry.

For now, though, he would keep moving. West seemed as good a direction as any.

Sirius had no idea how long he had walked. The hours had blurred into a constant rhythm of steps, with the quiet rustling of the trees and the distant hum of the stream guiding his path. His mind was set on one thing: getting as far away from the creatures he had slain as possible. He couldn't afford to be careless. If they were tracking him, they wouldn’t be far behind.

After what felt like an eternity, his body began to ache from the constant travel. The weight of his wand in his hand and the crude weapons slung over his shoulder reminded him that he was still very much in danger. His instincts were screaming at him to do something, to change his approach. And then it hit him—Padfoot.

He had always been faster, more agile, and more perceptive in his Animagus form. His senses sharpened, and the world around him came alive in ways it didn’t when he was human. If the creatures, or whatever they were, were tracking him, they would be looking for human footprints, human signs.

Without hesitation, he found a secluded area by the stream and bent down. The cool water flowed gently, and the sound of it was soothing in the eerie silence of the forest. He took a deep breath and transformed. In a flash, Sirius Black was gone, and Padfoot, the large, shaggy black dog, stood in his place. The transformation was immediate, and his mind shifted to a more instinctual mode of thinking. The forest smelled different now, richer, more vivid. Every scent stood out to him—earth, water, trees, animals—but no sign of immediate danger.

Without wasting any more time, he trotted into the stream, letting the cold water wash over his paws. His keen nose told him that it was deep enough to mask his scent from anyone tracking him. The creatures, whatever they were, would lose his trail here. He waded deeper into the water, carefully, making sure he stayed low to avoid leaving any obvious sign of his passing. The current wasn’t strong, but the chill nipped at his skin beneath the thick fur.

Once he had traveled far enough down the stream, he climbed out on the opposite side, paws sinking slightly into the mud. Now he would leave only the footprints of a large dog. He was confident that whatever had been tracking him would be confused and disoriented. They would search for a man, not a beast.

He shook off the excess water, the droplets shimmering in the light from the still-glowing Lumos charm hovering above him. He cast a quick glance around, ears perked for any sound, but the forest remained silent. The only noise was the gentle splashing of the stream behind him and the occasional rustling of leaves as the wind moved through the trees.

Padfoot wasted no time. He took off at a steady lope, his paws silent on the soft ground as he moved through the trees. His Animagus form allowed him to cover ground much faster than he ever could on two legs. He ran effortlessly, his body flowing smoothly with each stride, muscles rippling under his fur. The forest rushed past him in a blur, the scents and sounds sharpening his awareness of the world around him.

He kept his pace fast, occasionally pausing to listen, to sniff the air for any sign of pursuit. Nothing. Just the cool breeze and the steady flow of water in the distance. He had bought himself time.

It wasn’t long before he reached another small clearing. Padfoot stopped at the edge, his instincts pulling at him. His sharp nose caught the faintest hint of something—something metallic, old, but he couldn’t quite place it. It didn’t smell like the crude weapons those creatures had carried. This was different, more refined.

He shifted back into human form, standing up straight and scanning his surroundings. His wand was already in his hand, the Lumos charm dimming but still enough to illuminate the area around him.

Sirius crouched low and examined the ground carefully. There were no human tracks, nothing to suggest civilization had been anywhere near here. Yet, that faint scent still lingered, just out of reach. It made him uneasy.

Still, he couldn’t afford to stay here too long. He needed to keep moving, needed to stay ahead of whatever might be following him. He scanned the treetops, his eyes following the curve of the hillside. West, he reminded himself. He was still heading west.

He considered shifting back into Padfoot, but his human instincts told him he might need his wand more than his animal senses right now. He was entering unknown territory. For all he knew, he was walking into something much bigger than a simple escape from a few monstrous creatures.

“West,” he muttered again under his breath, setting his sights on the distant horizon. The sun would be up soon, and with it, a new day of dangers and challenges.

For now, though, he felt a strange sense of calm. The adrenaline of the night’s battle had faded, leaving only the cool logic that had kept him alive all these years. He could handle this. He had to. There was no other choice. He needed to survive, not just for himself but for Harry, for the fight he knew still raged on back home.

With one last glance around, Sirius resumed his journey, his pace quick and steady as he headed toward whatever awaited him in the west.