"Pevensie, your brother," Eleanor said to her.
Lucy turned to see her brother, who was approaching her down the alley with a broad smile. Some of the girls with her started whispering and giggling quietly, but Edmund seemed oblivious.
"Enjoying the day, Lu?" he asked, as Astoria Greengrass just smiled beside him.
"To the fullest," she replied with a smile, showing her brother a plant she had just bought on the previous street.
"It's beautiful," Astoria commented. "Fire flower, right?"
"Exactly," she responded, impressed. "You should see how it glows in the sunlight."
"It's spectacular," the girl said. "I have many in my greenhouse… this one seems especially radiant."
"I like your friend," Lucy declared, bringing a wide smile to the Slytherin's face.
"I do too, sometimes," Edmund joked, earning an elbow in the ribs from the girl.
Eventually, Eleanor and her friends decided to continue their journey, agreeing to meet Lucy later at The Three Broomsticks. Astoria insisted on showing her best friend's sister a small bookstore in a secluded corner of the village. Matthew, the friendly, disheveled-haired bookseller, showed them various books of different genres. Edmund took the opportunity to buy an epic novel with moving knight illustrations on the cover, planning to read it first and then gift it to Peter for Christmas. Astoria purchased a sociology book exploring the relationship between Muggles and wizards, and Lucy couldn't resist buying a book on healing plants.
"My mother would love this bookstore," the Hufflepuff said as they left the shop. "Thanks for showing it to me, Astoria."
"We'll bring her here someday," Edmund said.
"Thanks to you, Lucy," the girl replied. "Glad to know at least one Pevensie can read more than just knight novels."
"Susan would be cross if she heard you say that," Edmund said, as Lucy nodded with a giggle.
"Healing magic," Astoria remarked, looking at the girl's book again. "One of the most underrated professions in the magical world..."
"I've always been interested in it," Lucy said.
She spared them the explanation of how she had learned various healing techniques over the years in Narnia. Memories of the small room in Cair Paravel, her potions, the cot where she had saved so many lives, the smell of herbs, the light filtering through the narrow window, the magic in the air, all came flooding back.
No, she couldn't tell Astoria about that, and for once, it saddened her. She had taken a particular liking to Edmund's friend. Sweet, yet determined.
"Lucy! Edmund!" someone shouted from the alley entrance.
"Polly!" the girl replied cheerfully.
Polly Plummer approached the teenagers with a smile. Astoria watched the woman for several seconds, wondering if this was the new teacher Edmund had been talking about.
"You must be Professor Plummer, right?" the girl asked. "Astoria Greengrass, a pleasure to meet you."
"Ah, Miss Greengrass," Polly said. "The only Slytherin in my fourth-year list, if I'm not mistaken."
Lucy noticed that several students from the nearby store were watching them curiously. It seemed that news traveled fast in that castle. She couldn't help noticing a Slytherin girl, probably in fifth or sixth year, glancing over while pretending to read The Daily Prophet. She couldn't recall her name but knew she was often seen with Draco Malfoy and his gang.
"I just wanted to say hello," the new teacher said, "and ask if you could stop by my office later. I have something to discuss with you."
"Sure, Polly," Lucy said with a smile.
"Great, then I'll leave you to it. I have an errand to run. See you later. Nice meeting you, Miss Greengrass."
"You too, Professor Plummer," the girl replied.
The three watched as the older woman disappeared around the corner. Astoria turned to Edmund with a mysterious grimace, which he tried to ignore.
"The Pevensies," Astoria remarked as they began to walk. "You always seem to be hiding a secret."
The siblings chuckled softly and exchanged a knowing look. As they turned their heads, Lucy saw the mysterious Slytherin girl give them one last glance before vanishing around the alley corner.
Peter had woken up later that morning to find his seventh-year dormitory empty. Despite being demoted a year, the school had kept his original spot in the dormitory with the students he started with in his first year.
The seventh-year room was slightly larger and more comfortable than the others. From first to sixth year, students kept their regular rooms, but in their seventh, they were moved there. It not only had a private bathroom for each student, but at the back, there was a small door leading to a lounge with several sofas and study tables. Susan had been envious when her brother explained he was in that room despite being demoted to sixth year, but he didn't feel as fortunate.
Cormac McLaggen's indifference, who had been his best friend before his absence, was somewhat painful, despite Peter clearly seeing that McLaggen's personality had changed a lot, and certainly not for the better. With his air of arrogance, he entered and exited the common room as if he owned it. Since the start of the term, he had been insinuating that the prefects, a Hufflepuff boy and a Slytherin girl, had been chosen for their connections. Peter found two things amusing about this claim: first, McLaggen was the first to use his contacts when necessary, and second, he couldn't figure out when he thought he could have been chosen as a prefect.
The common room was also nearly empty, except for a couple of third-year students hurriedly finishing their Divination homework, hoping to sneak it into Professor Trelawney's office and that she wouldn't notice it was late. Peter was grateful to have dropped that subject. Though, on the other hand, he had had some of the best naps of his life in the back row of that classroom.
Seeing that he would have to go to Hogsmeade alone anyway, he didn't rush and even considered not going. He had breakfast at the Gryffindor table under the blue sky of that morning. He felt somewhat lonely sitting there, no doubt, but didn't give it much importance. The loneliness stood out more since he had started talking again with a certain brown-haired girl. Sometimes she appeared, or they coincided together in a class where she wasn't accompanied by her two friends, and they had great conversations, laughed, sometimes went to the library together, or accompanied each other to their next class. These occasions weren't frequent, but Peter felt really relaxed after they happened.
However, he hadn't dared to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with him. He knew she would probably go with Potter and Weasley.
"Hey, Pevensie," a female voice said, sitting down in front of him.
The boy looked up to see who the unknown voice addressing him was. Before him, Romilda Vane's slender figure stood imposingly. Peter knew who she was, of course. Almost all of Hogwarts knew who the dark-skinned, perfectly haired girl was. A Gryffindor fourth-year, she had just hit her growth spurt, and puberty had decided to treat her well. Half of the older students had started turning their heads when she passed by, regardless of the house.
She was certainly pretty. But Peter didn't find in her the attraction that seemed to hypnotize much of the student body. There was something about her childish attitude that diverted his attention from her external beauty.
"Romilda, right?" he said, slightly awkward, scratching his head.
"That's right, Peter Pevensie," she said, sitting down in front of him.
The girl grabbed a piece of fruit and bit into it while settling onto the wooden bench. They both remained silent until the boy realized his housemate was watching him, expecting him to say something. Certainly an awkward encounter.
"Did you need something?" he asked as politely as he could, without finding other words.
"Nothing specific," she replied. "I saw you here and realized we had never talked. And I didn't want to have breakfast alone. And I thought, surely Pevensie would be pleasant company."
"Well..." the boy said, still searching for words. "I suppose. I'm glad I give that impression."
"How does it feel to have everyone talking about you?" the girl suddenly asked.
"I don't know, tell me..." he replied, confused. "It's you they talk about."
The girl laughed, a bit too shrilly for Peter's taste. She hit him on the shoulder in a way that seemed out of place while he tried to finish his toast.
"What a flatterer," she said.
"What did I say?" he asked. "Weren't you talking about yourself?"
"Well, I know how I feel, don't I?" she said. "I wanted to know how you handle the attention."
"What attention?" the boy asked, intrigued.
The girl laughed again, but the boy still didn't get it.
"Come on, Pevensie," she said in a whispering, seductive tone. "Everyone knows that since you've returned, nobody stops talking about you and your brother."
"Really?" he asked, incredulously. "I don't think it's that big a deal."
"Come on, Pete," she said, trying to sound friendly. "Haven't you looked in the mirror? You're not the same boy with a chubby nose and acne anymore."
Peter felt uncomfortable with the comment. Puberty hadn't been easy. He still saw himself as that pimpled boy, occasionally self-conscious about his nose. He remembered his early years at Hogwarts, constantly overshadowed by Cormac McLaggen and his friends.
Absurd, isn't it? He had already been an adult, a king of an entire realm. He knew what his adult face would look like, and yet, in that castle, he couldn't help but see himself as that boy. But he had learned something. He was that child. The child who thrust a sword through a wolf's gut to protect his sisters.
"I'm still that kid," he said, his tone slightly less cordial.
"No, Pevensie," she said. "Not to those girls."
"You don't understand what I meant," he said, looking away to his almost empty coffee cup.
"I think it's you who doesn't understand," she said. "Why do you think Granger pays so much attention to you? After years of sighing over Weasley..."
"She's my friend," he said, his tone angry.
"Think that all you want," she said. "But look around more often. You're part of a different world now."
"Believe me, I'm well aware," he said, rolling his eyes as he got up from the table abruptly.
Romilda didn't seem affected by his aggression. She gave him a sweet, cold smile and waved goodbye.
"Well, if you ever need help navigating it, I'll be here," she said, lifting her tea cup as if it were a wine glass.
Peter gave her an awkward nod, the heat of his anger dissipating from his face.
"Teenagers," he whispered.
And with that word left hanging in the air, he left the dining hall, realizing then that he was one of them, whether he liked it or not. As much as it pained him, he didn't feel he belonged to that world, yet he was part of it, like it or not.
If he wasn't, the girl's words wouldn't be echoing in his head. "Has been sighing over Weasley for years" drummed in his mind like a beat. Hadn't he thought that all these years? Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, destined to be together. The whole school thought so, except the two of them. Even he couldn't help feeling it was true, as much as he wished it wasn't.
If he wasn't a teenager, he might not be rushing through the corridors. If his hormones weren't raging, he probably wouldn't be running to his room.
Impulsively, his hands grabbed the handle of his broom. He left the common room, opened the first window he could find, and jumped on his broom, heading for the lake. Heading for some lost place. Maybe the river, maybe the forest. Any secluded place that reminded him of Narnia would do. Nobody would notice he hadn't gone to Hogsmeade. Not his siblings Edmund and Lucy, engrossed in their conversations with friends. Not Susan, escorted by one of her suitors. Not his old friend Cormac, who no longer spoke to him.
Nor Hermione Granger, who would probably be too distracted by her friend Harry Potter, and Weasley, who would no doubt steal all the attention she had been occupying in the new boy's mind for a week.
And he would only pay attention to the wind on his cheeks, the lake under his feet, and the forest in front of him. Wishing with all his might that the magic of the environment would transport him to the place where he really wanted to be.
Undoubtedly, there was something teenage about him. Something rebellious and untamable, that hadn't stopped for a single moment to remember that what he was doing was exactly what Dumbledore had forbidden. Leaving Hogwarts and Hogsmeade without any company. Where shadows could lurk at every step.
If he had remembered that rule, if he had remembered the conversations with the adult members of the Order about Death-Eater sightings around the castle, he wouldn't have gone. But imprisoned in his emotions and Gryffindor impulsiveness, the thought never crossed his mind."
