As the great Ian Fleming once wrote:
Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.
The astute reader, having doubtlessly passed preschool, may have noticed that twice now, Oleandra had fallen asleep and woken up to find herself in the past— one event short of the third confirmation. Still, Oleandra was beginning to see a pattern— this sort of thing didn't just happen, did it?
"I could have sworn you were wearing my coat just a second ago," said the boy, scratching his head in confusion. "Where in Midgard could it have possibly gone…?"
For some reason, even though Time-Turners were only supposed to send one backwards in time, Oleandra hadn't reappeared at the bottom of the Black Lake this time around. Judging from the boy's words, it was as if she'd never left at all, which defied Oleandra's understanding of time travel. And then there was the sun— setting when she'd passed out, but now rising…
Oleandra shivered.
The sun was shining brightly overhead, and at least she wasn't drenched like last time, but it was still winter in this time period, and her pyjamas weren't doing much to keep the warmth in.
"Cambio Exuvia!"
Taking a gamble, Oleandra clapped her hands and called out the Quick-Change Charm's incantation, and to her surprise, the only wandless spell in her arsenal worked, which meant that her inability to cast runic spells lied elsewhere than with her own magic.
The furs winked back into existence, rapidly swirling around Oleandra's body limbs in concentric strips, before locking into position, recreating the original fur coat around her body. Underneath the furs, Oleandra's pyjamas swapped places with her newly re-tailored combat robes…
"You're magic!" the boy hiccupped in surprise. "What was that incantation? Latin?"
If Oleandra was indeed time-travelling in her sleep, then she'd go to bed with her wand tomorrow night, just in case the phenomenon continued occurring… And judging from the current trend, it probably would.
"Figures only a Witch would know a spell that's only good for playing dress-up," the boy muttered helplessly, as Oleandra wordlessly returned his clothes. "Thanks, I was running out of Warming Potion…"
Judging from the steam escaping from his ears, this Warming Potion of his seemed to be a distant ancestor of the modern Pepperup potion… And judging from the steam escaping her own ears, it seemed like he'd fed some to Oleandra over the course of the night to keep her warm in her sleep.
"Now then, now that we're both nice and warm and awake, shall we introduce ourselves?" the boy continued. "I'll go first— you may call me… Wanderer."
Despite being incredibly grateful to the boy for having saved her life, Oleandra wanted nothing to do with him if she could help it. While it was generally impossible to change the past, since it had already happened, she couldn't take the risk of damaging the Time Stream through her actions.
"Is that a nickname, like… Strider?" asked Oleandra sceptically. "That doesn't sound like any name I've ever heard…."
Aragorn had first introduced himself by that name in The Lord of the Rings, but Oleandra wasn't about to reveal knowledge of the future to her saviour.
"Sorry about that," said Wanderer sheepishly. "My father told me to keep my identity a secret until my quest was done."
Oleandra obviously couldn't give him her real name since she couldn't risk it getting recorded somewhere, but neither would she be able to shake him off until she gave him a name in return… it was only polite, after all.
"Then, you may call me… Viviane," said Oleandra after a moment's thought. "I've been called by that name in the past."
Or was it the future?
"In that case, well met, Viviane!" Wanderer exclaimed. "You might not remember me saying this, since you were about to freeze to death yesterday, but I believe Wyrd guided me to you."
Wyrd, or in plain modern English, fate.
If history was truly impossible to change, then perhaps Oleandra had always been meant to travel back to this very moment…?
Seeing Oleandra's hesitant expression, the boy pressed on, saying, "Why don't we travel together? Maybe you'll find some familiar landmark on our travels that'll help you find your way back home to this Hogwarts or London of yours?"
Oleandra smiled bitterly at Wanderer's optimistic words. Hogwarts was right there, where the Archway to Nidavellir stood and where the two underground Ley Lines met and knotted together; it's just that the Four Founders hadn't built the castle on top of them yet…
"It depends. Maybe just for a little while, until I get my bearings," said Oleandra, chewing her lip in thought. "Where are you planning to go from here?"
"I don't actually know," Wanderer admitted sheepishly. "When the clan elders sent me on my quest, they just told me the place I was looking for was in the land of the Britons. Maybe you know of it? It's called Avalon, the Isle of Apples?"
Avalon was Fairyland— Oleandra's hometown, so to speak.
Even though it had disappeared in her time, it seemed as though it hadn't been banished halfway to Niflheim yet, which would place this time period somewhere in BCE— Before Common Era. So, more than two thousand years ago, at the very least.
"You do know where it is, don't you! It really was fate that brought us together!" Wanderer breathed, noting the flicker of recognition in Oleandra's eyes. "Please, you have to help me, I've been stuck here for months, and I can't go back home until I find this place. I don't want to spend another moment on this dreary island where it rains every day!"
Before she disappeared, Viviane had shown Oleandra where Avalon used to be on a globe, so she knew exactly where it was: just off the coast of Somerset, in the Bristol Channel between England and Wales. It would be a very long walk from the northern reaches of Caledonia (present-day Scotland) to the southern reaches of Cymru (Wales), especially since there wouldn't be many roads, seeing as the Romans hadn't invaded yet…
"I— well…" said Oleandra hesitantly. "If it's truly fate that brought us together…"
If she accepted, then she would run the risk of running into a past version of herself, which could be disastrous.
On the other hand, she owed Wanderer that much for saving her life— and it's not like she had any idea how to stop the time-skipping, anyway. Besides, these were dangerous times— she'd need someone to watch her back while she slept.
When Oleandra would go to sleep tonight in the past, she would be transported back to her own time in 1996, where she would continue to slumber until morning. However, unless she stopped sleeping in the present, she would continue to be forced back to the past, to the exact time she had first fallen asleep— making it as if she had never left in the first place.
And without Naudhiz, the rune of distress, to warn her, she might not live long enough to wake up in the past. Any old marauder would be able to murder her in her sleep!