After an intervention, Tom Felton went to rehab. He 'escaped' after less than 24 hours.

The following is an excerpt from Beyond the Wand: The Magic and Mayhem of Growing Up a Wizard by Tom Felton.

I didn’t really think, as I strode up the zig-zag road away from the rehab centre, that anything would come of my moment of rebellion. After I’d walked a couple of hundred metres, I remember thinking that any minute now one of the security people would sprint towards me and rugby tackle me to the ground. I’d be dragged back to my room, and that would be that. 

But nobody sprinted. There were no rugby tackles.

Two minutes became five and five minutes became ten.

The rehab centre disappeared from sight behind me. I continued walking up the steep zig-zag road, but even then I was convinced that I’d be rumbled. There would be security gates and cameras up ahead. There would be people on watch. Any second now they’ll come and get me. I think I almost wanted to be caught. It would give me something else to be angry about. But nobody appeared. I kept walking and walking. A mile up the hill. Two miles. I reached the top and there was a fence. I managed to clamber over it. The terrain was a little treacherous underfoot. I was wearing my regular clobber and had nothing on me but a few cigarettes. No phone, no wallet, no money, no lighter. But I kept walking and before long I saw the lights of moving vehicles up ahead: the Pacific Coast Highway. I knew that the ocean lay beyond the PCH, and I’ve always had an affinity with the ocean. It called to me and I started to move in that direction.

I had it in my head that they’d be out searching for me by now. I switched into what I can only describe as Grand Theft Auto mode. Every time I saw a car approach, I ducked or dived into a bush or ditch, scratching my face and arms to ribbons. I hopped fences and ran through the shadows until I eventually reached a wild, deserted beach. The moon shone bright and by now I was covered in mud, blood and sweat. The urge took me to wade into the water. All of a sudden, the frustration burst out of me. I was, I realise now, completely sober for the first time in ages, and I had an overwhelming sense of clarity and anger. I started screaming at God, at the sky, at everyone and no one, full of fury for what had happened to me, for the situation in which I found myself. I yelled, full-lung, at the sky and the ocean. I yelled until I’d let it all out, and I couldn’t yell anymore.

I burst into tears. I was muddy, wet, dishevelled and broken. My clothes were torn and dirty. I must have looked like a complete maniac. I certainly felt like one. As my shouts echoed across the ocean into nothingness, a sense of calm finally washed over me. It felt like God had heard me. I quickly became preoccupied with a new mission. I had to get back to the one place that seemed normal. I had to get back to Barney’s Beanery. It was not an easy mission. I was many, many miles from West Hollywood. With no phone and no money, my only way back was on foot.

I continued to stalk my way along the beach, keeping my head down. I passed stretches of expensive Malibu mansions that glowed invitingly in the night, but down at the water’s edge nobody could see me. The beaches were steep, and the waves broke noisily. There was no path. Mostly I found myself wading through the water, my shoes and trousers soaking wet, barely keeping my three remaining cigarettes dry. Sometimes the beach ran out, and I found myself clambering over rocks to find the next section of sand. I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. I was dehydrated. I had no real idea where I was or where I was going. West Hollywood and Barney’s Beanery seemed what they were: impossibly distant.

Image: Supplied.

Beyond the Wand: The Magic and Mayhem of Growing Up a Wizard is now available for purchase. You can buy it online, here.

Feature Image: Getty.