Chapter 13
It only took one Slytherin Quidditch team practice for Slughorn to recruit another Pevensie sibling into his select club. Without asking for it, Edmund found himself sitting next to his brother Peter that evening, which allowed him to observe firsthand how the boy fidgeted nervously in his chair when a shy Hermione Granger quietly entered the room, sitting right on the other side of the Gryffindor with a timid greeting.
Peter smiled, smitten. And Edmund couldn't help but laugh softly, earning himself a well-deserved kick in the shin.
The dinner wasn't as terrible as they had anticipated. The food was exquisite, and there were even Turkish delights as part of the dessert. The Slytherin found himself navigating among the future generation with high chances of becoming influential figures in the magical world. Not all were to his liking, of course, but Slughorn had a radar for talent, and that was something Edmund couldn't criticize. Peter, on the other hand, seemed more uncomfortable but relaxed when he saw there was no need to speak unless directly addressed.
Hermione Granger did the same until, inevitably, they ended up talking quietly among themselves, giggling from time to time and smiling. Edmund couldn't help but feel somewhat annoyed with the girl. He found Peter's feelings for her amusing, but the Slytherin had noticed how the girl seemed to be glued to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley all day. He didn't like the idea of someone breaking Peter's heart.
The girl and her brother understood each other perfectly, and it was clear to see. Very different in many ways, yes. But there seemed to be a strong common ground, something that made them connect, and it was visible from the outside. But Edmund couldn't yet put a name to it.
"Mr. Pevensie," Slughorn called, making both brothers lift their heads from their plates.
Peter and Edmund looked at each other while silently pointing at themselves, looking intrigued at their Potions professor.
"Peter, sorry, sorry!" Slughorn exclaimed, laughing. "I wanted to know where you learned those powerful enchantments."
"Ilvermorny, sir," Peter said. "There's an elective in advanced enchantments, and well... I've always been very interested in the subject."
"Oh, that's right, the Pevensies, one of the few students to be transferred from one magical school to another," Slughorn said. "May I ask which house you were selected for?"
"Sure, sir," Peter said. "Thunderbird... both of us."
"Fascinating," Slughorn said. "I understand the selection ceremony is somewhat different, and that the house statues react to the students they want to choose, and that they can do so several at once, correct?"
"That's correct, sir," Edmund said. "In fact, that's why we ended up in the same house, by choice."
"And which others claimed you?"
A brief silence ensued, in which Peter and Edmund looked at each other, unsure whether to answer.
"All of them," Peter said, clearing his throat.
"Both of you?" the professor exclaimed. "Impressive!"
The two brothers stayed quiet as the students looked at them, astonished.
"And your sisters?" Marcus Belby asked.
Peter cleared his throat again.
"Also..." he said, hesitantly. "They were chosen by all."
Edmund and Peter saw Slughorn's face light up, and they understood that, very likely, their sisters would be sitting at the next meeting. The Potions professor surely wouldn't let such prodigies escape. It was rare, exceedingly rare, for all the Ilvermorny houses to choose a student at the same time, happening every many years, and surely, it had never happened to four siblings at once.
When dinner finally ended, Slughorn entertained the two brothers for several minutes, showing them his shelf full of photographs of former students, among which was their father. A young Robert Pevensie smiled at them from the shelf, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and the Gryffindor tie around his neck in a loosely tied knot, accompanied by the future Alice Longbottom, who laughed beside him.
Once the professor finished talking about the adventures of his father and his companions, Horace Slughorn began to talk to them about the plans he had in mind for his club. Edmund started to fear he wouldn't have a free slot for Easter break. And then, Peter Pevensie had a truly brilliant idea.
"What about an excursion?" Peter said, taking a sip from his cup. "A cultural outing... we could visit some place of magical significance."
"Oh... that would be excellent," Slughorn replied, excited, while Edmund turned to look at his brother, perplexed. "What place do you propose?"
"How about the Kirke Mansion, Professor?" Peter said, looking at his brother as he finished the sentence.
"That's a great idea!" exclaimed Edmund, catching on to the game instantly. "Peter and I have been there many times; it's one of the oldest magical family estates..."
"Ah, but actually, we can't go, Ed..." Peter said, feigning sadness.
"That's true... without Digory..." Edmund continued, following the improvised plan.
"Nonsense!" Slughorn declared, smiling, eager to please. "The estate is truly an astonishing opportunity; we'll look for the new owner... I'm sure I can find a common contact. With a few strings pulled, we can visit the estate, I just need to find the right person."
Neither dared to mention the McLaggens; it was better to let the professor discover that twist on his own, to avoid revealing the obvious premeditation from Peter and not raise suspicions. When the door finally closed behind them, Peter and Edmund turned to each other, sharing a grin that stretched from ear to ear across their faces.
"Not bad for a Gryffindor," Edmund teased.
"I learned from the best Slytherin," the elder brother retorted.
Peter slung an arm around Edmund's back and ruffled his hair with the other hand, while his brother laughed.
"And to think Susan and Lucy say we don't know how to be subtle," the Slytherin remarked.
"We weren't the ones who wiped Draco Malfoy's memory..."
Lucy Pevensie examined her face painted on that wall again. Something felt off about that mural. It seemed much older than she was. How could a mural be older than the person depicted in it?
She pulled out her notebook again and began to add another theory to her list. The first theory was that the mural had aged in Narnia, where more years had passed than she had lived. But it seemed inconsistent. Who would have brought it here, and how?
Only mysteries.
The second theory was that it might be a prophetic mural. She didn't have extensive knowledge in divination, but perhaps someone had seen something in a crystal ball or a dream many years ago. But in that case... what did the prophecy mean? Was it about what they had already accomplished in Narnia, or something more? Was there something written?
Only mysteries.
Mysteries and a sense of distress subtly squeezing her lungs. In both cases, someone had placed that mural there, so someone else knew about the existence of Narnia, of other worlds. But who? Could they have already died? Had they passed that information on to someone else? Had that person personally travelled to Narnia?
Her head was going to explode. She needed answers, but only accumulated more questions. She had to sign up for divination. The enrolment period was closed. But she needed to know more. Maybe Polly could help, but she was determined to handle the problem herself and would quickly find out what she intended to do, wanting to keep her "little" Lucy away from the conflict. No, she had to find another way, another path. Dumbledore would want to ask questions.
Professor Sprout seemed like the right answer. The head of her house. If she expressed her sudden interest in the subject, perhaps the Herbology professor could secure her a late enrolment pass. Being one of her most advanced students, it would be the best option. She couldn't refuse.
Susan was also absolutely intrigued by that mural, but for her, it was too late to sign up for Divination. Lucy glanced at the books and scrolls her older sister had left on an old wooden table in a corner of the room, searching for any relevant information.
After obsessively reviewing the mural one last time, Lucy climbed the narrow and steep stairs back to the castle, where she waited for the hallway to be empty before leaving unseen. The third-year Hufflepuff soon headed to the greenhouses in search of her professor.
She soon found that the head of Hufflepuff house was conducting an exam for a few fourth-year students who had fallen ill with Fwooper fever the previous week. With a kind gesture, she signalled Lucy to wait until they finished, so the girl left her backpack leaning on a table near the door and decided to take a walk through the nearby greenhouses.
Autumn filled everything with a surprisingly colourful gray. A light brown light seemed to hang among the green leaves of the countless magical plants inhabiting the greenhouses. It wouldn't be long before it started to rain, but at that moment, everything was calm.
Something caught her attention in that silent corridor. She suddenly felt watched. Something slid between the bushes in an almost imperceptible whistle. Lucy turned around abruptly, her Narnian instincts reawakened.
But she found nothing. No student, no teacher, no ghost. The greenhouse seemed empty. And yet, she couldn't shake off the strange feeling that someone was watching her closely.
Rain began to fall on the rooftops rhythmically, as Lucy Pevensie looked around for the source of that sound, unable to rid herself of the eerie feeling that someone was observing her closely.
Helen Pevensie sat in her quiet garden. The air was cold, but the spell she had cast over her brown blanket kept her warm. Pulling out a worn book, she opened it to the page she wanted to consult. Alice Longbottom's word echoed in her head: "crux." It was an incomplete word, and she knew it. She knew what it could refer to, something she had suspected for a long time. But the books she consulted were vague in their explanations. She needed to know more. She had a theory, a theory she feared might be true.
"Everything alright, darling?" Robert Pevensie approached his wife.
The man planted a kiss on Helen's forehead and snuggled up next to her on the wide outdoor armchair. His wife rested her head on his shoulder while she discreetly closed the book, but the man, knowing his wife well, inserted his index finger on the page she was trying to close.
"Horcruxes?" the man muttered the word.
Helen closed her eyes and brought her hand to her face.
"I can't stop thinking about what Alice said," the woman said. "I need to know more about them. I think we overlooked something... the first time."
"Do you think Tom made more?" Robert said while affectionately massaging her back.
"I'm starting to think that three weren't enough for him," the woman said. "He never got the sword. He didn't die when he tried to kill James and Lily's son. We must have been wrong; we underestimated him."
"How many more could he have made?" Robert said. "It's something dark, forbidden; there must be a limit to something so sinister..."
"That's what I'm trying to find out," Helen said. "The cup and the diadem... were destroyed. Regulus took care of the locket. And we had the sword earlier."
"And you think there are more."
"Yes, and I think Alice knew something," she said. "I need to know more. But I can't tell anyone. Almost no one in the Order knows of their existence."
"Have you talked to Dumbledore?" the man said.
"I tried... he says he's on it..." she said, somewhat annoyed. "I think he's only sharing it with Harry Potter, plotting something, wanting to collect secrets, memories... but he won't let me help, only wants to share it with Harry, and I don't think it's right, Rob! He's a child! Lily would never have allowed it. I don't want our children to pay the consequences of a war."
"They say Harry is the Chosen One," Robert said, sadly.
"He's a child, that's what he is," Helen said. "He can't be burdened with something so important. He's a child..."
Both remained silent for a few seconds, watching as the sky darkened further above them. The wind blew harder, moving the leaves of the trees, while the memory haunted the couple's minds. Memories of other times, also dark.
"You were too then..." Robert said, with a half-smile. "You were just a teenage girl, too, when you destroyed Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem..."