Lost and Found

It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the sudden light, but when everything finally swam into focus I blinked, surprised. I was staring up into a thick, canopy of leaves. I tilted my head slightly, wincing when the muscles in my neck ached in protest. The branches waved lazily in the breeze, twinkling somewhat where the sunlight pierced through. I could detect a hint of blue sky above them, a pleasant contrast to the lush-green colour of the leaves. The earth felt damp beneath my hands, as if it had rained not long ago. I allowed myself to finger the dirt for a moment marvelling in its texture and the rich sent that wafted from all around me.

When my heartbeat had slowed somewhat I rolled onto my side and pushed myself carefully into a sitting position, groaning as my muscles flexed. I felt battered and bruised, as if I'd been trampled on by a horde of angry hippogriffs. How had I arrived-?

I gasped as the memory resurfaced. The street, the curse, my attacker.

I glanced wildly left and right, scanning my surroundings for movement as I searched my pockets franticly for my wand. I came up short. They were empty.

My gut went cold as I delved my hands deeper into my jeans, hoping beyond hope that I was mistaken. Then I searched my jacket, then my sleeves. Still nothing.

I had lost my wand.

Dread bubbled up inside me. I needed my wand. I felt naked without it, defenceless, just a lost, helpless girl. My aggressor was still out there, probably about to stumble upon me any second now -

Stop, my inner voice commanded. Calm down. No one is attacking you. I concentrated on breathing in and out, in and out; all the while taking in my surroundings, searching for something, anything that could serve as a weapon.

Even in my panicked state, I could see that the forest was beautiful. From the middle of the clearing in which I was sitting, it seemed to stretch on indefinitely. The trees were spaced, easing some of my claustrophobia, and covered in thick green moss. Shifting patterns of light danced across the scenery, creating different shades and patterns of emerald before my eyes.

I was alone.

Easing myself gingerly to my feet, I grabbed a solid looking branch from the ground and held it firmly in my fist. At least I wasn't completely defenceless.

Feeling slightly better, I headed over to a fallen tree, settled myself on the log, and set about to wondering what the hell I was doing in these woods in the first place.

Had I apparated? I briefly considered the possibility before putting it aside. No. Whatever had happened, it definitely had not felt like any form of apparartion. I flexed my left hand where two of my fingers were missing, ripped off in a splinching incident that had taken place the previous year.

Portkey then? Equally unlikely. One had to be in physical contact with a bewitched object to be able to travel that way, and I had been walking down a busy street full of muggles.

Then…what? There was absolutely no explanation for what had happened. How could I have travelled from a crowded street to empty forest in a matter of seconds?

The curse. I closed my eyes, dread seeping into the pit of my stomach. A flashing green light. Avada Kedavra. The killing curse.

Am I dead?

I pushed the thought aside, refusing to consider it, and moved onto the next problem: How to get back. I mulled over the possibilities for a long while before giving up on a magical solution. I didn't dare try anything without my wand, the outcome was too risky.

Brushing the dirt off my jeans, I hopped of the fallen log, gave one last searching gaze over the clearing, still hoping to find my wand amongst the fallen leaves, and when it became clear that there was no reason for me to linger, I chose a direction and marched off into the trees.

About three hours later, give or take, I was still crashing through the underbrush, cursing whatever higher power had magicked me into this godforsaken forest. Although it had lost none of its pleasant appearance, the woods were turning out to be one hell of a hike. I kept tripping up on twisted tree roots and my jeans were ripped in several places in result of my falls. Running a hand through my hair, I pulled out a twig with a few leaves still attached. Fantastic. It would take forever to untangle.

Dusk was slowly falling, compromising my vision until I could barely see the trees in front of me, and still there was not the slightest hint of the forest's ending. And to make matters worse a cool breeze was building up from behind, sending icy waves up my back where my clothes were still damp.

I stumbled for what seemed like the umpteenth time, spreading my hands out in front of me to break my fall and scraping my palms on a jagged rock.

"Ow!" I cried, no longer bothering to keep my voice down. The first few minutes of my hike had been spent carefully avoiding dead branches under my feet, my makeshift weapon lifted gingerly above my head, ready to come swinging down at the first hint of trouble. After a while I began to feel stupid creeping at a snail-pace amongst the trees when it was obvious that I wasn't being followed, so I stopped trying to be discreet. Now I was almost going out of my way to cause as much raucous as possible, if only to have someone find me so that I could finally be told where I was.

I squinted at my right hand, examining the damage. I had two shallow cuts stretching across my palm. Nothing too serious, but I knew even the most casual injuries could become dangerous if they were not tended to properly. I had nothing to disinfect the cuts, so I settled to applying a generous coat of saliva, hoping it would be enough to clean the wound.

"Does this blasted forest ever end?" I growled to no one in particular, pushing myself up from the ground and trudging forwards. And suddenly, just like that, in a few steps the trees around me thinned and I was out of the woods.

My victory was short-lived. I was hoping to fall upon some form of civilization once I had left the forest, a village or town perhaps, which would help me pinpoint my location, but in the fading light I could make out only sloping fields. Not a house in sight.

Brilliant. I've been zapped into the middle of freakin' nowhere.

I perked up a little when I noticed a small dirt road twisting in and out of sight amongst the hills. Ignoring my aching feet, I started down the slope, treading carefully to avoid slipping on the wet grass. It wasn't long before I reached the path, and there I was faced with a new dilemma. Left or right? Which way was more likely to lead me home?

Use the stars, my interior voice scolded. Find out which way is north. Tilting my head upwards, I turned around in a slow circle, searching the night skies for the North Star. It was the first star I had ever learnt to recognize in Astronomy and I knew it well. It had helped me find my way on countless occasions in the previous year, during my time on the run, when I had had neither compass nor map to help me navigate my way across the country.

But that night the star was nowhere to be found.

A burst of hysterical laughter escaped my lips. This really was the last straw. How could the bloody Northern Star be missing from the sky? In fact, I realized as I scanned the heavens more closely, ranking my brains in search of familiar constellations, I didn't recognize any of these stars.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

At this point, I was pretty much past being surprised at every new oddity that crossed my path. My brain had settled into a sort of post-shock numbness. I was tired, cold and hungry. I really didn't have a clue of what to do with this new, alarming information, so I pushed it aside to focus on more pressing problems. Like the fact that dusk had now fully set and that I was no closer to finding my way than I had been three hours ago. In my current state of mind, the stars seemed like a minor hitch in an overall shitty day. I would deal with them when I had found a dry place to spend the night, hopefully with a full stomach. And a strong drink. After the last couple of hours I'd just spent, I felt that I very much deserved a pick-me-up.

"Eenie meenie miney moe," I muttered. I turned right and started at a brisk pace down the path.

The first sign of life that I came across was a small, remote house by the side of road. It was a sweet little thing, and it reminded me of the cosy, old fashion cottages that my mother and I would sometimes see during our walks in the countryside long ago, when there had still been some semblance of a bond between us. Although it was hard to make out in the dark, I could see rose bushes growing here and there around the house, and a little stone wall tracing out the limits of the property. A light flickered behind the closed curtains, promising warmth and safety from the bitter night. Relief flooded me. I hopped over the wall, barely registering how small the little stone structure really was. It hardly reached my knees and the gate looked as if it had been made for a child. I didn't let it worry me though as I walked up the path to the front door; at this point I would have been happy with an abandoned ruin. I stooped low and knocked at the little door.

I didn't have to wait long until the sound of pattering feet reached my ears. The door cracked open an inch, letting out a slim ray of light. I could just make out the form of a small figure standing on the inside, staring at me warily.

"What do you want?"

I blinked in surprise. Judging by his size, I had expected the person behind the door to be a child, but the voice that greeted me now was far too deep in its timbre for a kid. Was he some sort of midget?

I quickly hid my reaction, aware that the small man's suspicious gaze was traveling up and down my person, taking in my ripped and dirty clothing. I suddenly felt very self-conscience.

"Excuse me sir," I faltered a little, unsure of what to say. The man stared back. "Um," I cleared my throat. "I'm afraid I'm lost and-"

Upon hearing my words, the short man's eye's narrowed, and he slammed the door shut. I heard the unmistakable sound of a lock being turned.

"Hey!" I called, banging my fist on the door, "Wait a second!"

"Go away!" came a muffled shout, "We don't want any Big Folk here!"

I paused for a second, unwilling to let my one chance at a shelter for the night slip away. "Can you at least tell me where I am?"

Silence. The small man had retreated back into his cottage, leaving me shivering at the door. I was about to head to the back of the house to see if there was a a window where I might be able to attract the man's attention again when I was interrupted.

"I would not trouble myself if I were you, my dear. Hobbits are a gentle folk who dislike being disturbed. Most of them spend their entire lives without ever seeing Mankind."

I spun in the direction of the voice and was surprised to see a figure standing by the brick wall. I had not been aware of an audience. I slowly made my way back down the path and stepped over the wall, keeping my eyes on the stranger during the whole process. He was an old man wrapped in a grey traveling cloak, leaning heavily on a long walking-stick. He wore a grey pointed hat and his long white beard hung down below his waist.

I watched him in silence, suspicion seeping its way back into my mind. The small man's reaction had put me on edge and the sudden appearance of this odd looking stranger was doing nothing to ease my discomfort. The old man however seemed oblivious to my unease.

"You seem in need of directions," he said. "May I be of any assistance?"

"No," I replied automatically, the Slytherin inside me instantly weary. What the hell are you doing? a small part of my brain demanded. You've been searching for help for hours and now that you've finally stumbled across another human being you're going to turn it down? He looks harmless!

Yes, I answered myself, but where did he come from? And how come you didn't hear him walking up the road? Over the years my interior voice had taken to mimicking my mother's disapproving tone with disturbing accuracy.

The old man did not seem disturbed in the slightest as I took a careful step backwards, putting some distance between us. On the contrary, he looked almost amused.

"Is something troubling you, my dear?"

Yes, I wanted to answer. I've been hiking through a forest all afternoon and I haven't a clue how a got there, which is saying something seeing as I'm a witch. I'm cold, tired and freakin' hungry. The stars are in the wrong place in the sky, so I have no idea which way is north. A tiny man just slammed his front door in my face and now you've appeared out of the blue, asking me stupid questions. That's what's wrong.

But that, of course, would never do so instead I simply asked, "Do you have a mobile phone I could borrow?" I hated using muggle devices but right now I couldn't afford to be picky.

The old man looked politely confused. He didn't seem to know what I was talking about. So…a wizard? He was wearing robes after all, although they were ragged looking and a little out of date. I threw him another question before he had time to answer. "Which way is London?"

He leant forwards, resting both hands on the end of his staff. "I'm afraid that I have never heard of that city. Is that where you hail from?"

I grunted noncommittally, processing this new information. This man - wizard? - had never heard of the capital of England. Was he some kind of hermit?

Careful, I cautioned myself. The war's only been over for six months. The Ministry of Magic is still rounding up Death Eaters who fled at the end of the Final Battle. I focused on the man's face, trying to picture him without a beard. Did I recognise him from any of the Ministry's official wanted posters that had been plastered all over Diagon alley for months now?

The old man returned my stare with a scrutinising gaze, his eyes lingering on my tangled hair and filthy clothing, probably drawing conclusions of his own. Was it possible that he was a Death Eater? If so, then I was in serious trouble. My hand twitched to the pocked where my wand should have been. If he attacked, I was as good as dead.

He spoke abruptly. "I am Gandalf the Grey."

I kind of a name was that? The old man - Gandalf - tilted his head, obviously waiting for me to say something.

"Oh…um," I paused, unsure whether or not it was wise to give a potential Death Eater my name.

He smiled encouragingly.

Oh, to hell with it, I thought, and said, "I'm Cassie Morgan."

Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. "An unusual name."

I snorted. Look who's talking. Despite my best efforts my guard was beginning to slip. It was hard to believe that this cheerful stranger might be an ex-servant of You-Know-Who. Besides, he looked at least seventy years old. What was the worst he could do?

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Now then, my dear," he said in a business-like tone. "Perhaps you would like to explain to me what a young lady such as yourself is doing alone at dusk terrorising the good people of the Shire?" He glanced pointedly over my shoulder at the small cottage.

I frowned. In truth I had almost forgotten about the odd little man. "Well," I hesitated, uncertain about how to define my peculiar situation "I guess I'm sort of lost."

The old man looked at me in mild interest. "Indeed?" he asked "Well, I am gathering with some old friends of mine in Hobbiton, which is not very far from here. I am certain we can find someone willing to give you directions there." He pulled away from his staff and started at a brisk pace down the dirt road. "Come along now," he called over his shoulder.

I hesitated for a moment, briefly contemplating my options before realising that I didn't have any and hurrying after the old man. I fell in pace besides him and we walked in silence. From time to time I sneaked a glance in Gandalf's direction. He moved quite fluently for someone so old and barely seemed to be leaning on his staff at all.

After a few minutes of this I decided to start up the conversation again. "So," I said, "Hobbiton right?" Gandalf nodded. "Never heard of it." I gestured over my shoulder in the general direction of the house we'd left behind. "Any more of those little guys living over there? What was he by the way?"

"He was a hobbit," Gandalf answered. "And yes, there are many of them living in the Shire. It is their homeland after all."

The clogs whirled in my brain. I hadn't gotten a good look at the short man, but he'd seemed to be about goblin-sized. Was hobbit another word for goblin here, wherever here was? I racked my brains, trying to remember the last time I'd spotted a goblin outside of Gringott's, but could not recall having ever seen one of the gold-loving creatures away from the sanctuary of their bank.

My stomach chose that moment to voice its complaints, growling loudly. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and my afternoon hike had left me starving in its wake.

Gandalf glanced down at me with piercing blue eyes. "I must say, I have never met someone clothed quite as strangely as you, Cassie. Am I right in assuming that you are very far from home?"

His remark irritatied me. Yes, my clothes were a little disheveled, but there was nothing strange about them. At least, not from a muggle's perspective. I allowed my gaze to trail over my companion's slightly hunched figure. He wore robes, didn't know what a mobile phone was and obviously thought something was off about the way I dressed. All evidence seemed to point towards him being a wizard.

And yet…

Some paranoiac part of me, no doubt left over from the war, urged me to play it safe. Say vague. Don't give him too many details.

"Yes. No. I don't know." I winced as the words left my mouth, aware that I must sound like a lunatic. "I'm not exactly sure how I got here."

"Is that so?" Gandalf suddenly stopped in his tracks, forcing me to double back. Our eyes locked and I suddenly felt small and exposed, as if he knew exactly what I was and what I was hiding. I gulped, trapped in his stare, unable to look away. The old man seemed to be debating with himself. Finally, after an immeasurable amount of time, he freed me from his gaze and resumed walking. It was a moment before I regained enough of my composure to follow.

"In that case," Gandalf continued as I fell in pace beside him, acting as if our little stare-off had never taken place, "perhaps you would be so kind as to join my friends and me for dinner. My conscience would not allow me to leave you stranded alone outdoors at such a late hour."

His proposal caught me off guard and I worked to keep my surprise from showing as I quickly reviewed the pros and the cons. On the one hand was the fact that I knew absolutely nothing about this guy other that he was some kind of hermit, possibly a wizard. He might look old but was capable of moving fast and without noise. This could very well be a trap. I doubted that he would be able to take me down alone, but with his friends he would outnumber me. The safest thing to do would be to thank him and politely decline his offer. I would figure a way home on my own.

But on the other hand, he was offering me food. And I was hungry. My stomach rumbled again as if to second that argument.

I sighed. The old man hadn't yet given me reason to doubt him. On the contrary, he'd been nothing but kind.

"Sure, why not?" I made a gesture with my hand. "Lead the way."