I pulled a small satchel of Floo powder from my pocket as Hermione and I stood in the fireplace of an old, abandoned building just outside Hogsmeade. We’d slipped out early that morning under the cover of my invisibility spell, and with it being a Saturday, no one would expect us back anytime soon.

  The building looked as though it had once belonged to an outcast witch or wizard, someone who needed to be close to society but far enough to keep their distance. It served our purposes perfectly. I tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, and blue flames roared to life, swirling with a soft hum of magic.

  “Are you ready, Hermione?” I asked, noticing her nervous fidgeting.

  “Y-yes,” she replied, trying to steady her voice.

  She stepped into the blue flames, whispered “Diagon Alley,” and vanished in a whirl of light. I followed, throwing the powder, stepping into the flames, and pronouncing the same destination.

  The sensation was… peculiar. I felt something tugging at me, not just on my body but deeper, as though my very essence was being dragged along reluctantly.

  Bang!

  I was thrown out of the fireplace and landed hard against a table, knocking the breath out of me and sending a sharp pain shooting through my side. Dazed, I looked around, realizing I was not in Diagon Alley at all.

  An elderly couple hurried over, their faces lined with concern.

  “Oh dear, are you all right?” the woman asked, looking at me with wide eyes. “How on earth did you come crashing down our chimney?”

  “I… I’m not quite sure how that happened,” I stammered, struggling to my feet and trying not to wince. “I’m fine, though. So sorry to trouble you.” I recognized their names before they even spoke them: Thomas and Isabella Renald. They were muggles, both in their late seventies and healthy enough now, though their time in this world would end in a few years. They were good-natured, a fortunate thing since they thought I’d merely slipped and somehow landed in their fireplace.

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  “No trouble at all, son,” the old man said, clapping me on the shoulder. “The name’s Thomas, and this is my wife, Isabella.”

  “A pleasure,” I replied, managing a smile.

  “Are you all right to walk?” Isabella asked, her face creased with worry.

  “Yes, yes, thank you,” I assured her. “Actually, I could use a little help, though. Could you tell me where in the city I am?”

  Thomas chuckled and gestured out the window. “We’re about a thirty-minute walk from the heart of London. You see Big Ben over there?”

  I followed his finger to the massive clock tower standing tall in the distance.

  “Thank you. I’m… not exactly from here,” I said, excusing myself with a polite nod before I stepped outside.

  The morning air was cool, a small relief against the ache in my side. I had made it most of the way to Diagon Alley, it seemed, but something had interrupted the Floo journey. As I walked, I replayed the sensations in my mind, trying to understand the drag I’d felt. The enchantment had pulled my body easily enough, but my spiritual essence, bound within this mortal form, must have resisted. The magical channel would have detected this as a problem, redirecting the journey to avoid harm—a necessary safety, but one that had cost me a smooth arrival.

  When I checked my satchel, I found it empty. A typical wizard could travel several times on a single handful of Floo powder, but transporting my entire self had burned through the whole bag and drained a portion of my own energy reserves. More Floo powder would solve the problem, but it revealed something troubling: there would be unforeseen complications in adapting wizarding magic to my unique nature. I would need to be cautious or risk far worse outcomes.

  Pressing a hand to my side, I winced. It felt like I had cracked a rib in the tumble. Healing magic was useless to me—my body resisted life magic on principle. Only time and mundane methods would ease this pain.

  By the time I reached Diagon Alley, I was more exhausted than I should have been. The hidden entrance loomed ahead, and as I passed through, I sighed. “Always more problems…”

  Well, this is embarrassing...