Chapter 3

Peter watched as the waters of the lake moved slowly, while the late afternoon sun began to soften its light with the passing hours, casting a golden hue on the fields surrounding the castle. He took a deep breath of the pure air and sat on a rock near the shore. He needed to think, and that place seemed perfect for it. The weather still retained some of its summer warmth, and that day had finally cleared after the storms that marked the beginning of that first week of September.

His mind revolved around the secret that Lucy had shared with him and Edmund during their last visit to Narnia. Peter couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at his siblings' journey, and he didn't understand why Aslan hadn't called Susan and him to join them. But if there was one thing Peter knew, it was that Aslan always had a perfect plan. He just had to trust it. He had failed that trust in the past, and he didn't intend to do it again.

Lucy's suspicion about Professor Digory's death loomed over his and his siblings' minds constantly. The mourning for their close loss was constantly intertwined with the search for a motive. Why Professor Kirke? Out of all the members of the Order, why him?

There could be a thousand reasons, but fear constantly led them to one answer: Narnia. Voldemort must somehow know about the existence of their realm. Digory held the secret from his uncle, from that first journey. Polly must hold it too. That information must be what the Dark Lord was seeking.

"Does he know about us...?" Susan had wondered aloud on that Monday night, in a dark corridor far from the bustling dining hall.

"No, he can't know, can he?" Lucy had responded. "Unless... unless the professor told him."

"He would never do that," Peter had affirmed.

"He's an expert Legilimens, Peter," Susan had said.

Indeed, Voldemort had a notorious reputation for his ability to read the minds of his enemies. Many said he could shatter strong minds from within. It was one of his favorite games, his favorite torture, even more than the Unforgivable Curses.

"The professor was very strong," Edmund had said. "I'm sure he would resist."

"Anyway, if what he's after is what we suspect, it means that Aslan's time has come," Lucy had said firmly.

The time of darkness. Aslan had warned Lucy about that. Before crossing the threshold back to their world, the Great Lion had warned his younger siblings of a great darkness originating from their world that would try to reach new realms. He had warned them about someone who would try to accumulate new forms of magic, traveling from their world to another.

Narnia was in danger. Their world was in danger. Hogwarts was in danger.

However, the kings and queens of Narnia, despite their deep distress, had not yet decided what to do next. In that world, they were once again just teenagers, expected to attend classes, spend time with friends, and complete large amounts of homework that Snape had assigned at the start of the term.

They had barely had time to process and form a strategy. Whom should they turn to? The Order? Their parents? Revealing their secrets to anyone meant putting them in danger. Did anyone in their world know what to do? Everyone was ignorant of Narnia's existence. There was only one person, Polly Plummer. She was their only hope.

So, the Pevensie siblings had no choice but to send their owl, Achilles, with a handwritten message by Susan, as cryptic as possible, and hope for a swift response.

Apart from that, while awaiting a response, they had no option but to continue as if nothing had happened during that first week. Although deep down, anxiety gnawed at each of them.

"A curious place to find you," said a sweet and familiar voice from behind.

The young man's heart skipped a beat at the unexpected greeting. He felt the excitement rush to his face, slightly coloring his cheeks. Trying to breathe deeply, despite his now uneven breath, he turned towards the female voice that had spoken.

"Hermione..." Peter said in an audible whisper.

His second concern immediately came to mind. The girl with unruly brown hair stood before him once more. She was still as beautiful as when they had met in the library years ago, but there was something different about her. Her expression was even more mature, without losing the innocence in her smile, and despite her hair still being entirely unruly, she seemed to have learned to control it. She looked at him with an expression that danced between shyness and amusement, as if she enjoyed catching him by surprise and was waiting to see his reaction.

"I thought you had forgotten my name," she said with a nervous laugh.

Peter chuckled softly at the comment, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the girl's response. Nervously, he scratched the back of his neck with his hand while trying to find a suitable response. In the end, he decided that honesty was always the right answer.

"I actually thought it was you who had forgotten mine," he said, smiling.

Hermione smiled timidly and gestured to the rock.

"May I sit?" she asked.

Peter quickly stood up but with an unusual clumsiness for him. Putting his left hand back on his neck, he used his other arm to gesture to the girl that she could sit.

"Of course," he said with a smile.

Hermione didn't say anything, but she seemed amused by Peter Pevensie's shy expression. Without hesitation, she approached the rock and sat on it. The Gryffindor sat beside her, but left a bit of space, fearing to make her uncomfortable.

"I come here to think sometimes too," she said, gazing at the water's surface.

"I thought your refuge was the library," Peter said with a laugh.

"Well, of course... but these past few years," Hermione said, "with everything about Harry, Voldemort... Umbridge taking over the school... sometimes I just needed to escape."

"I understand perfectly," he said in a deep tone.

"Who could Peter Pevensie possibly want to hide from?" she asked, turning to look at him. "I hope it's not me."

"Never from you, Hermione Granger," he replied in the same teasing tone.

"It seemed that way," she said, maintaining her smile but in a more serious tone.

Peter felt a small knot in his stomach. The truth was, he didn't fully understand why he avoided Hermione Granger. Maybe it was because of the secrets he was keeping. He had never cared about flirting or talking to other girls. But she was different; she made him think about all the things he was hiding. And more so now, as his secrets were beginning to cost lives.

"As I said," he finally said, "I was afraid you wouldn't remember me."

"My memory rarely fails me," she said again, more teasing.

"Yes, I know you remember me," he said, "but, well, I thought maybe I wasn't such an important memory..."

Hermione smiled again and looked at the horizon.

"Harry and Ron are great, you know?" the girl said. "But sometimes, I miss a good conversation."

"I've been missing a good conversation for two years..."

"And missing you," he thought. But those words never made it out of his mouth.

 Hermione turned and looked at him with a sad smile.

"I know what that's like," she said. "Feeling alone among so many people."

"Is that why you come down here?" Peter asked, turning to look at the castle.

"That's why I come down here," she confirmed.

"Why did you come down today?" he asked.

"Why did you come down?" she asked, bouncing the question back.

Peter took a deep breath while toying with the water with the tip of his shoe.

"Sometimes there are problems that seem to have no solution," he said. "And I'm not used to just sitting and waiting for something to happen."

"I understand..." she said. "I think I know that feeling."

Peter looked at her with intrigue.

"I thought there was no question Miss Granger couldn't answer," he teased.

"Oh, there are, Mr. Pevensie," she said, laughing. "Every now and then, a couple of stars align, and I can't find the answer to something."

"It's hard to imagine," he said.

"It's not easy being friends with 'The Chosen One.' Harry is extremely intelligent but impulsive..."

"Impulsive, huh?" he asked. "Well, isn't it true that you had Rita Skeeter trapped in a jar? Or is that just a rumor?"

"I won't deny or confirm that information," she said, raising her chin slightly.

They both laughed, and silence fell again. The sun was setting behind the mountains, casting its colors on the lake, and birds sang as they danced on the water, their wings skimming the surface. Peter took a deep breath and was relieved, for the first time in a long time, not to feel so alone.

"I won't pressure you," she said, breaking the silence. "But if you ever want to tell me what's bothering you, I'm here."

"I was going to tell you the exact same thing."

The two of them stayed there, smiles on their faces, gazing at the scene before them. Minutes passed, and they became engrossed in another conversation. Hermione started her relentless questions about the magical schools Peter had attended, and he gladly responded to her genuine interest. When there was almost no light left, Hermione began to summarize the events of the two years he had been away. Both listened to each other attentively, forgetting that the world existed around them. A world in which the day had turned to night.

When they became aware of the time, they began to climb the stairs that connected the castle to the lake shed, laughing. For the first time in what seemed like centuries, Peter felt like a seventeen-year-old again, and his problems disappeared for a while.

They arrived at the Great Hall a bit late. Peter sat in a corner of the table, and, to his surprise, Hermione took the seat across from him. He had never seen her sit at a meal far from her friends, but she didn't hesitate to sit with him.

They spent as much time together as they could, walking to the common room, talking by the window, gazing at the dark outside, and it wasn't until an hour had passed and the room was almost empty that Hermione decided it was time to go to bed.

Peter stayed there for a while, savoring what had happened as if he were afraid it would vanish into thin air. He didn't want the fear of Voldemort, the fear of the future, to make him lose what he had felt that afternoon. Turning his head, he looked at one of the tapestries in the room, where a majestic animated lion was sleeping peacefully, retaining all its majesty.

That tapestry reminded him of another Lion he knew, a Lion he missed very often. But it also reminded him of his last private conversation with him, the secret he had revealed. He wondered if he could ever tell the girl with brown hair.

Would she think he was crazy? Or perhaps he would never have to tell her, and he was anticipating something that would never happen. After all, she was Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age. If their world survived this war, he could offer her everything. He wasn't sure if his secret would weigh more on that scale, if she could choose him. Perhaps he was just a friend, someone to talk to.

"I wish", he thought, "I whish, I could sleep like the Lion in that tapestry". Without worries, without fears.

Robert Pevensie slowly moved his sore body to sit up in the darkness. He immediately noticed Helen's absence by his side, with the cold touch of the sheets on the left side of the bed.

He heard her footsteps in the hallway, fast but silent, approaching the room until she opened the door with a slow motion. The beautiful face of Helen Pevensie peered through the door frame, with a smile. However, her husband could immediately read a shadow of concern in her expression.

"Hello, dear," the man said.

"I see you're feeling somewhat better," she said with a smile.

"Well, I've been better," he said as she approached the bed to sit beside him, "but I've also been worse, and recently."

She, leaning on the right edge of the bed, gently stroked her husband's hair.

"What would I do without my Gryffindor?" she whispered with a smile.

"You would have saved yourself a lot of trouble, no doubt," he said, "but you'd be terribly bored."

His wife laughed, and they both looked at each other in silence, their hands intertwined, as if not a single day had passed.

"Now tell me what's been troubling you so much," he said gently, "and don't tell me it's my swift recovery because I know there's something more."

"There is," she murmured.

He gently caressed her cheek and sat up slightly to be closer to her.

"I'm afraid...," Helen said, "Voldemort wants to discover a way to travel between worlds..."

"Yes, but that information is well guarded, isn't it?" he said, "only Polly and Digory knew how to travel, and we have Polly safely... Voldemort has discovered the existence of other worlds, but he has no way to access the information he needs."

"That's the problem, Robert," she said, "Polly no longer remembers that information; the professor erased it from her mind..."

Robert fell silent, gazing at his wife's expression. He held her hands more tightly.

"Then it's over," he said, "the secret has been forgotten."

"I think not, Robert," she said, "I think someone else knows that secret..."

"Who, dear?" he asked.

Helen's expression darkened even further as her heart raced in her chest.

"I think we've suspected for a long time, dear," she said, "haven't we?"

"You're not talking about...?"

"The children, Robert," she said with fear on her lips, "I think the children know something."

The owl pecked the window pane several times, rousing Susan Pevensie from her deep slumber. Moonlight flooded the cozy room adorned in shades of blue. Fortunately, none of her roommates stirred from their sleep. Luna Lovegood lay sound asleep in the bunk above hers, seemingly unaware of the owl's gentle tapping against the glass.

Sitting up, Susan opened the window, allowing the cool night air to rush into the room. She gently stroked her family owl, Achilles, and removed the letter from its talons. As the bird flew away, disappearing into the night, Susan donned her robe and slippers and headed out of her room with the letter safely stashed in her pocket.

She descended the stairs and crossed the common room, which was now empty, to the spiral staircase that led to the terrace. Susan relished the chill of that September night on her cheeks. It was just cold enough to make her want to wrap herself in her coat, but not so much as to be unpleasant.

Under the torchlight, she unrolled the letter and immediately recognized Polly Plummer's handwriting in the brief message:

"My Dear,

Please inform Professor Dumbledore that I will visit him next Friday to discuss the matter of the centaurs.**

Best regards."

Polly's tone was usually much warmer and less concise, but the message corresponded perfectly to the code Susan had used in her own message a couple of days earlier. Susan's message had been quite similar, unsigned, in code, and mentioning a non-existent issue that Dumbledore had with centaurs.

However, Polly, Digory, and the Pevensie siblings recognized each other's handwriting without the need for a signature, and they had a code involving drawing a small lion in the corner when the letter pertained to Narnia. They had created these codes after Voldemort's return, as a way to communicate across continents.

If any Death Eater had intercepted the letter, they would probably have realized there was more to it. If Voldemort truly knew their secret. However, the letter did not reveal any information. It had no signatures or details.

Achilles had been trained for years by her father. She was not easy to catch. Her black feathers made her practically invisible at night, and she was agile and intelligent. She had been a gift from her brother, Edgar Pevensie, a skilled Magizoologist and an apprentice of Newt Scamander.

"Oh, Aslan, what do you want with all of this?" Susan wondered aloud. "I wish you were here to guide us."

Susan lowered her gaze to the dark castle below. She looked at the towers, walls, and bridges. The place held so many painful memories. She loved it, but the memories saddened her.

Her gaze landed on the main bridge. A silhouette stealthily crossed it in the darkness. At first, Susan paid little attention to it and was about to turn and go back to her bed. But suddenly, Draco Malfoy's light blond hair glistened under the moonlight.

Susan watched as the Slytherin boy made his way across the entire bridge until he disappeared from view in the Great Hall courtyard.

"Everything okay, Pevensie?"

The girl jumped in surprise and feared she might lose her balance for a second.

"Merlin's beard, Goldstein!"

Before her stood another blond figure, also a prefect, also  a sixth year. But there the similarities ended. His hair was darker and wavy, and his expression much more affable than that of the figure that had crossed the bridge in the dark.

Anthony Goldstein laughed at the expression on the fifth-year student's face while lighting a Muggle cigarette. He leaned against one of the benches on the terrace, near the door.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" he asked, his tone somewhat teasing but friendly. "I don't think I've ever seen you awake past your bedtime."

"Sorry, you startled me," she said, still shaken. "I'm a bit on edge. It's not my best moment."

Anthony extinguished his mocking expression, and his smile turned sincere in response to the girl's honesty. In silence, he smiled at her.

"Forgive me," he said, "I got excited about finding someone in the common room who might be breaking a rule."

Susan laughed, which made Anthony's expression relax again.

"I think you've got the wrong common room, Goldstein."

"That's what I thought for a long time, Pevensie," he said, "I would have given anything to be with the Weasley twins. Their escapades last year were brilliant. But the Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes."

"So they say," she replied. "Although your silent steps are more Slytherin."

"Well," he said, raising his eyebrows with false pride, "let's just say that some of us are good at everything. But nothing beats a good book."

Anthony looked at Susan, who had now completely changed her expression and was smiling. The two of them sat there, in an awkward silence, but neither got up. They just watched the silhouette of the castle under the starry sky.

"You seem like the rule-breaking type, Pevensie," he suddenly said.

"Me?" she said, surprised. "I'm not in the habit of breaking rules."

"I just said I could imagine you doing it, not that you actually..."

"There you go again!" she interrupted, standing up.

Goldstein dropped the remainder of his cigarette on the ground and got up, peering over at the spot where the girl was pointing.

"He's up to something," she said.

"Malfoy, right?" he said. "Seems like you'd go for a different type of guy."

Susan elbowed him in the ribs.

"Sorry, sorry," he said. "I couldn't resist the opportunity to tease you. But yes, a Slytherin son of Death Eaters sneaking around the castle in the middle of the night... definitely suspicious."

"He's plotting something," she said. "I'd love to find out what..."

In response, the boy pointed his wand at one of the bushes in the upper courtyard, causing a broomstick to shoot out. Without saying a word, he mounted it with a jump and extended his hand to the girl.

"But... what?" she whispered, puzzled.

"Ready to break your first rule, Pevensie?" he said.

"I really don't understand how they made you a prefect."

But Susan Pevensie didn't hesitate for long. Just a few seconds of seeing the mischievous glint in her companion's eyes were enough for her to grab the hand he extended and leap onto the broomstick. She clung tightly to him, and before she knew it, they were silently flying over the castle, in their robes and pajamas, quietly trailing Draco Malfoy through the grounds. Her heart raced as she held onto Anthony Goldstein. After two years without the rush of adventure, Susan remembered who she really was. And recalling that Susan brought a smile back to her face as the night air brushed against her cheeks in the darkness.