The first thing Oleandra felt as she broke through the lake's surface was the cold— bone-chilling, frostbite-inducing, world-ending cold. Now that she was no longer submerged, the waters' protection against the cold, granted to her in her capacity as the Lady of the Lake, no longer applied— leaving her at the mercy of the elements. Her soaked pyjamas and her wet hair were already beginning to harden due to the intense cold, encasing her body in a thin layer of frost and ice.
Lucikly, the Grindylows that had accompanied her to the surface didn't seem especially keen on getting caught out in the cold, either— they quickly let go of her and escaped back into the hole in the ice from which she had emerged.
Shivering uncontrollably, Oleandra looked up at her saviour— a young boy of no more than fourteen, dressed in what looked like animal skins, with a spear strapped to his back. The boy was currently aiding the Grindylows on their journey home with swift kicks to the behind, all the while shouting what she could only assume to be obscenities in a foreign tongue.
As Oleandra listened to the boy's shouts, she began realising that she could understand some of his words, even without her Translating Earrings. For some reason, the stream of abuse he was currently hurling at the water was a strange mix of Brittonic and Proto-Norse, the latter of which Oleandra had only briefly studied in her Ancient Runes class, as Old English was the main focus of the class.
Satisfied that the Merpeople wouldn't press the attack, the young boy turned to Oleandra, saying something incomprehensible with a smile. Seeing Oleandra shrugging and shaking her head helplessly, he frowned slightly.
"@$#@&?" he said distinctly, using the butt of his spear to draw an ogham rune at his feet, in the thin layer of snow covering the ice.
"W-w-was that P-p-pictish? Or mmmaybe, G-g-gaelic…?" Oleandra stammered through her chattering teeth. "I d-d-don't sssspeak t-those, b-b-but…"
The boy had spoken some very old Norse earlier, so Oleandra bent down and drew a straight line in the snow. This by itself represented the ice rune Isaz, so she then deliberately crossed out the rune, turning it into Naudhiz, the rune of distress— a clear cry for help, since she could barely feel her extremities any more.
Her saviour finally seemed to realise that she was about to freeze. He whispered something under his breath, before removing his furry coat and throwing it over her shoulders. Oleandra hastily pulled the warm clothes over her freezing body, immediately feeling much warmer, almost as if the furs were enchanted with a Hot Air Charm.
"Thank you so much," said Oleandra gratefully, "I almost thought I was going to die!"
"Anything for a fair maiden such as yourself," the boy finally replied in perfect English, winking at her. "You're lucky that an amazing Wizard such as I happened to be passing by!"
"You knew English all this time!?"
The boy laughed and struck a pose, almost as if he were expecting to be lavished with praise just for having been born with magic. Seeing that Oleandra wasn't especially impressed, he deflated slightly.
"Er… sorry, I didn't notice," said Oleandra tactfully. "You don't look like any Wizard I've ever seen…"
The boy looked a lot more like a Muggle than a Wizard, if Oleandra had to be honest (which she always was). Although, dressed in animal skins and armed with a spear, he didn't much look like any Muggle teenager she'd ever seen, either…
"Well, I'm sorry I don't look as magical as the Wizard who trapped you under that ice," said the boy lackadaisically. "Unless it was a Witch? You're rather good-looking, so I'm guessing whoever did that to you really wanted you out of the way… waste of a perfectly good woman, if you ask me."
Oleandra frowned— apart from his pronounced machismo, there was something off about the way the boy spoke.
The way he kept going out of his way to emphasise the words, 'magic,' 'Wizard,' and 'Witch,' instead of using more generic terms such as 'person,' it was almost as if he were under the impression that she was a Muggle… but that couldn't have been the case, could it? Revealing the existence of magic to a Muggle was a clear breach of the Statute of Secrecy!
"At any rate, a meeting like this could only be the work of fate!" said the boy cheerily. "I'm a bit busy, since I'm on an important quest myself, but I wouldn't mind going out of my way to get revenge on behalf of a beautiful woman such as yourself..."
"Er… thanks, I suppose?" said Oleandra testily. "I've no earthly idea who could have possibly played this trick on me, though… so for now, I'd much rather find my way back home…"
Now that she was no longer on the verge of blacking out, Oleandra could finally see clearly, so she took a moment to survey her surroundings. She couldn't identify any recognisable landmarks, but something about this place seemed vaguely familiar, for some reason…
Had she been here before?
"So, Mr Wizard," said Oleandra, "would kindly you point me in the direction of Hogwarts?"
"Hogwarts?" said the boy, tilting his head quizzically. "Never heard of it."
The sun was already falling, which meant that she had missed an entire Monday's worth of classes because of this stupid prank that would have killed anyone else but her.
"You… you're actually not pulling my leg," said Oleandra in disbelief, realising that he was telling the truth. "Hogwarts! The only magical school in the British Isles! Even if you've been homeschooled, how could you have possibly never heard of Hogwarts?"
"I'm not exactly from around here," admitted the boy.
At this point, the sun had already fallen behind the mountains, and one by one, stars were beginning to appear in the night sky…
"In that case, you probably don't know Hogsmeade…" Oleandra muttered to herself. "Okay, then… London?"
If this boy wasn't actually a Wizard, but a Muggle teenager playing pretend, then there was no way he wouldn't know about London! Especially since he was talking to her in perfect English!
"Never heard of it either," said the boy firmly. "Okay, since you're very clearly lost, why don't we start somewhere everyone knows about— Rome."
"That's in Italy," said Oleandra, aghast. "Wait, how can you not know about London!?"
At no point had the boy told her any lies— her Mystic Eyes would have caught them. Faced with so much conflicting information, Oleandra had no idea where she could have possibly been sent to. Was she even still on the planet Earth!?
And that's when Oleandra saw it.
There it was, standing tall a hundred metres or so from her, most likely at the edge of the lake, though it was hard to tell with the snow: an Archway— one of eight gateways that connected Midgard to the other eight of the Nine Realms. But it wasn't any old Archway— it was the exact same one that was supposed to be hidden away in the Room of Requirement.
The truth suddenly hit Oleandra like a thunderbolt.
Apart from the missing castle and the missing Whomping Willow, the surrounding valley hadn't changed much— she was very clearly standing on the frozen-over Black Lake! Oleandra looked up at the night sky— the stars were a bit off-centre, but that was clearly a firmament that could only be seen from the planet Earth! Which meant…
The question Oleandra ought to have been asking wasn't where she was—but rather when.
Most likely, she had found herself at the bottom of the Black Lake for the simple reason that Hogwarts hadn't been built yet! She'd fallen asleep in the Slytherin dormitories, which extended partway into the lake, so of course, that's where she'd woken up!
…and upon realising this, Oleandra's brain finally chose to throw in the towel.
Faced with the prospect of being stranded in a foreign time— just like Eloise Mintumble— Oleandra's eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted, toppling over backwards like a log…