Chapter 89: Survival in the Wilderness
The next day, once everyone had finished preparing, Gomez produced a miniature coffin.
The moment Russell saw it, he suddenly remembered the tiny mummy Corvey had given him—still tucked away inside his dragonhide pouch.
They joined hands. After confirming that everyone was ready, Gomez took a deep breath and grasped the coffin.
Russell felt the world spin violently. It was as if a hook had snagged his navel, yanking him backward with tremendous force.
The sensation lasted only an instant, yet it felt like an eternity.
When his vision finally cleared, an intense, bone-piercing cold assaulted him.
He looked around and saw nothing but endless white.
No one else was there.
A single thought surfaced in his mind.
The Portkey malfunctioned.
He was lost.
Surrounded by snow in every direction, Russell had no idea where he was. His first priority wasn't finding the others—it was staying alive.
As for casting magic to attract help from the Soviet wizarding world, that seemed unrealistic. The last time he'd used magic outside school, he'd only received a warning letter—and in any case, they likely wouldn't intervene for a minor wizard stranded abroad.
He pulled a thick robe from his dragonhide pouch, followed by a cashmere hat, and pulled it snugly over his head.
The wind picked up. Snow began to fall.
Staying exposed in these conditions would be a death sentence. Russell decided he needed to find a cave for shelter.
He layered another warming charm over himself and trudged forward through the snowstorm.
After walking for some time, he suddenly smacked his forehead.
I just bought a broomstick.
How could he forget something so important?
Digging through his pouch, he pulled out a long, sleek broom.
The Nimbus 2000.
Though a newer model would be released next year, for now, it was still the most advanced broom in the world.
He mounted it, intending to fly straight to the nearest village—but the cold had other ideas.
The broomstick barely responded, as if frozen solid.
With no other choice, Russell landed at a cave that hadn't yet been completely buried by snow.
So that's why people in Russia play Quidditch riding trees instead of brooms—now it made sense.
As he stood at the cave entrance, the snow he had just cleared quickly piled back up, rising higher and higher until it completely sealed the opening shut.
He was trapped.
The cave was instantly swallowed by darkness.
"Lumos."
With a light flick of his wand, a soft yet brilliant glow bloomed at the tip, pushing the shadows back.
A blizzard. One person. A cave.
It was the perfect setup for a horror film.
A spark of adventure stirred in Russell's chest. Holding his wand cautiously, he ventured deeper into the cave.
To his disappointment, there wasn't even the faintest sign that any creature had ever passed through here.
So much for hunting game—canned food it was.
He pulled out a tin of turkey meat.
Made in the United States. Shelf life: thirty years.
Ingredients: turkey and salt.
That alone felt mildly unbelievable.
Humming to himself, he pried it open—then immediately frowned.
Inside was a murky yellow broth, with large chunks of turkey barely visible beneath the surface.
They were impulse purchases, bought without much thought. He hadn't expected they'd actually come in handy.
After warming the can with a simple flame charm, he took a bite. The taste wasn't bad, exactly—but the turkey had an overwhelming, feathery aftertaste he could barely tolerate.
He forced himself to finish it, then casually tossed the empty can aside. It rolled into a corner with a hollow clatter.
(Good kids, don't litter.)
How long would it take them to find him?
The thought made unease creep into his chest. What if the others had also been scattered like this?
With worry gnawing at him, Russell gradually drifted off to sleep.
---
"Russell… wake up."
Someone was shaking his shoulder.
He opened his eyes to see Gomez staring down at him, worry etched clearly across his face.
"Thank goodness," Russell muttered. "You finally found me."
Then he realized something was wrong.
"Where's Wednesday?"
"We haven't found her yet," Morticia replied, her expression tight with concern.
They had only located Russell so quickly because part of the cave entrance had been exposed when the snow began to melt.
"Uncle Gomez," Russell asked, sitting up, "what exactly happened? Why did the Portkey malfunction?"
"We're not certain yet," Gomez said, shaking his head. "It's possible that the Soviet authorities expanded their anti–Portkey and anti–Apparition wards into the surrounding areas."
"That's insane," Russell muttered under his breath.
But the priority was clear—finding Wednesday.
Even if the Portkey had been disrupted, they couldn't have been transported too far apart.
The snowstorm had passed. Russell volunteered to take his broom and search from the air, with Pugsley accompanying him.
Perhaps fate was being kind.
They found her before long.
"Wednesday… what exactly are you doing?"
Russell stared at her in disbelief.
She was calmly riding atop a massive brown bear, traveling at a leisurely pace. Her clothes were immaculate, as if she'd endured no hardship at all.
After regrouping, they continued on foot toward their destination. Gomez checked the map and pinpointed their location.
"Ten more miles," he said.
"Gomez! Long time no see!"
A booming laugh rang out as a man over two meters tall strode toward them. Despite the icy wilderness, he wore only a short-sleeved shirt, his muscular arms completely bare.
He embraced Gomez with enthusiasm.
"You were supposed to arrive yesterday. I waited for hours," he complained.
"Don't remind me, Bor," Gomez said with a grimace. "The Portkey malfunctioned. We were scattered all over the place."
"What?" Bor's eyes widened. "Wait here."
He ushered everyone into a nearby cabin so they could warm up, then made a phone call.
When he hung up, his expression had turned grim.
"The Soviet Magical Council has gone mad," he said.
"Gomez, you'd better head back. This situation is serious."
"What happened?" Gomez pressed.
Bor hesitated, then sighed and explained.
The day before, the Supreme Chair of the Soviet Magical Council had been targeted in an assassination attempt. The attack failed, and the assassin was killed on the spot—but the incident had put the entire country on high alert.
They sealed the nation almost completely, expanding all wards to prevent any accomplices from escaping via Apparition or Portkeys.
Russell and the others had simply been caught in the fallout.
A case of spectacularly bad timing.
---