Chapter 18
Hogwarts returned to its usual hustle and bustle with the Quidditch match. The students set aside any other concerns to focus once again on the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were positioning themselves for what would be the most competitive match of the term.
It was at these moments that Edmund Pevensie felt like he truly belonged at Hogwarts. On this day, he was not suspected of being a member of the Order, nor a 'traitor.' Today, his housemates were genuinely happy for his skills on a broomstick.
He found himself surrounded by people in the Great Hall, laughing and commenting on the Gryffindor lineup. Ron Weasley seemed to be the topic of the day: whether Potter had 'pulled strings' to get him on the team, or if he couldn't play like his brothers...
Edmund turned his head to look at the red-haired boy, who was completely pale, turning his head from side to side as if dizzy, while Hermione and Harry tried to cheer him up.
Astoria walked over to his section of the table, smiling slightly at her friend, but when she saw the team surrounding him, she kept walking and sat a few meters away with Ursula Flint, a fifth-year girl she seemed to get along with.
Edmund felt a bit of pity, but some of his teammates soon distracted him.
They left the Great Hall in time, heading towards the Quidditch pitch, engrossed in their conversation about masterful plays and strategies. It was then that Edmund saw someone who caught his attention.
Telling his friends to go ahead, he veered off to the left side of the corridor, where a girl with a gigantic lion hat was sitting. Luna Lovegood's face peeked out from between the fabric jaws of the lion, smiling.
"Quite the costume, Luna," said Edmund with a smile.
"I made it myself."
"It's amazing," he said. "I would have preferred a snake, but the lion suits you."
"Thanks," she said with a sincere smile.
"I hope you'll at least wish me luck," he said.
"I won't, Ed," she said with sweet but direct sincerity. "Today I'm with Gryffindor."
"That's clear enough..." he said, laughing.
"Pevensie!" one of his teammates shouted from the entrance.
"I have to go..." he said, walking backwards. "Again, you look... impressive... uh, very pretty."
Luna smiled one last time before Edmund turned and ran towards the exit. He hadn't regretted being sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor for years. But today, for an instant, he felt it again. And yet, he moved towards the field with a smile.
Susan was ready. Sitting on her bed, she watched the activity from her window. The students, in a festive mood, were heading in groups towards the Quidditch pitch. A few broomsticks flew through the air a few meters below the tower. She had pretended to be sick to avoid questions about why she wasn't going to watch her brother or Roger play.
But she had more important things to do. She opened the map once the tower fell silent and saw that Malfoy was still alone in his room, in the Slytherin common room. He hadn't gone to the match either, now she just had to wait for him to move.
She was determined to uncover Draco Malfoy. She wanted to fight, so she wouldn't have to anymore.
"I've always seen you as a warrior," Harry had told her while they made sure Pansy had left from the other side of the door the previous afternoon. "You always seem ready for anything."
"It's not something I was born with," she said. "I would have preferred not to have to fight so much, you know?"
"I think I understand," the boy had said.
"Graduate and work at something I like," she had said dreamily. "Start a family. I think life itself has enough struggle. We're growing up in an unjust world."
"And do you think that can change?" Harry had asked with a half-smile.
"That's why we fight, isn't it?"
Malfoy began to move, snapping her out of her memories. With a leap, she got off the bed, quickly put on her jeans, a white t-shirt, and her stealthiest sneakers, and pulled Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak out of her bag.
"Today I end you, Draco Malfoy," she whispered to herself.
"Helen, we're friends, but I demand that you give me an answer," said Helen, clearly nervous. "This is about my children!"
Polly watched her from the sofa in her office, paying close attention. She still didn't know what to tell Helen. She had shown up that morning in her office, after sleeping in the castle's guest wing. Her children didn't yet know she was there. No, the Pevensie children's mother had gone straight to talk to her.
"What do you want to know?" Polly said, seriously.
"What I've asked you before," said Helen, raising her voice. "Do my children know what Voldemort wants to find out?"
"Helen..."
"They've travelled between worlds, haven't they?" said the woman, putting her hands to her head.
"That's something they should tell you themselves," said Polly.
"So, it's true."
"I didn't say that."
"It's a very easy statement to deny, Polly."
"We'll talk to them tonight, alright?" Polly said. "I understand your son is playing the most important match of the term as Seeker this morning. It's best not to distract him..."
"And when they tell me what I want to know, will we tell Dumbledore?"
"He's already agreed to let me see the memories he shows to Harry Potter."
"And do you really think he's giving him all the information?"
"No," the old woman admitted. "Not remotely."
Peter climbed the stands in search of a place to sit. He discreetly avoided Romilda Vane and her group of player admirers by covering half of his face with his scarf.
It was a cold November 2nd, and the first snowfalls had already begun to fall throughout the week. Today the weather forecasted a blizzard: the students' breath was visible in the air, the wind whipped against the colourful banners, and the whistles of the wind echoed in their ears amid the shouts.
He reached the stands, next to Neville Longbottom, and decided to sit beside him. Peter had a great fondness for him.
"I heard your brother is playing Seeker today," said Neville. "Do you think he can beat Harry?"
"I think it's going to be the closest match in years, Neville," the boy said.
"I hope so," added Hermione Granger's voice from the other side.
Peter felt his heart skip a beat and turned to see Hermione sitting beside him. She seemed a bit nervous but was smiling at him.
"Everything alright, Hermione?" said the eldest Pevensie.
"Yes, it's just that..." she murmured, looking at the field. "Never mind. Everything's fine."
"You don't sound very convincing," said the boy, frowning.
"I'm worried about Harry and... Ron," she said.
The Gryffindor felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach upon hearing the redhead's name. He should have seen it coming, shouldn't he? Hermione Granger looking for Ron on the field again.
"I'm sure the weather will end up being kinder than it seems," said Peter, with his skill at hiding feelings. "They'll manage fine."
"That wasn't why," she said, turning. "But thanks for trying to cheer me up."
Peter was captivated by the sweet smile the girl gave him now. Not knowing what to say, he smiled back. He couldn't tell if that moment was really that long, or if his mind got stuck in a brief instant, but for him, several long seconds seemed to pass as they smiled at each other, looking into each other's eyes. Without realizing it, Peter found himself wondering how people could say brown eyes weren't attractive or not as striking compared to other colours. He could have gotten lost in those irises for hours, never wanting to return.
"Are you talking about the potion in the drink?" said Luna, joining the group. "What Harry put in Ron's drink, what was it?"
"Now's not the time, Luna," said Hermione, very nervously.
"Sorry," she said, drifting back into her thoughts.
Hermione turned from side to side to check that, indeed, no one else had heard that. No one, except Peter, of course.
"It's nothing," she whispered, her hands trembling. "I hope it's nothing, or if it is, we can't say anything because then... they might..."
"Hey..." said Peter in a gentle tone. "It's okay..."
Without realizing it, the boy grabbed the girl's trembling hands, seeking to give her stability. It was an instinctive gesture, and he didn't think about it until Hermione's hands were already wrapped in his.
"You don't have to explain it to me, alright?" he said softly. "Whatever it is, it doesn't seem like it's your fault."
"I think so."
"And I wouldn't tell anyone, even if it was," he said. "Especially if it was."
Hermione looked at the boy with a half-smile as her trembling ceased.
"Your hands are warm," she said, laughing.
The boy pulled his hands away as he felt the warmth rise to his cheeks, praying internally that the cold would disguise his red and embarrassed face.
"Thank you," she said. "You're a sweetheart, Peter."
"You're welcome..." he said, swallowing hard.
The whistle indicated the start of the match.
Susan followed Draco Malfoy under the invisibility cloak. Without making the slightest noise, she was completely hidden by the artifact that concealed her from the view of anyone looking in her direction. The light passed through her as if she weren't there. When she passed by the windows, the whitish winter light hit both her face and the floor.
It was as if she wasn't there.
But she was. Of course she was.
Draco knew about the cloak's existence. Harry had warned the Ravenclaw about it. But she wasn't going to listen to him. That wasn't an option.
She almost lost track of the boy on the stairs, nearly getting stuck between the steps as the staircase slowly began to turn in another direction, but she managed to follow him closely, risking moving faster and masking her steps with the creaking of the moving stone.
They reached the seventh floor. Malfoy walked rather calmly, seeing that the whole castle seemed empty. The girl tried to relax and match her steps to those of the Slytherin. She grew more and more afraid of being discovered. Everything echoed in a silent hallway, and the creaking of the stairs was growing fainter.
The silence started to unsettle Malfoy himself, who began walking faster, occasionally turning to check if anyone was following him, making Susan's heart beat a little faster in her chest.
They arrived in front of a wall, and Malfoy stood looking at it. Susan's mind took a second less than the castle to react.
- The Room of Requirement
She didn't utter a word, but her lips moved without making any sound. An arch began to appear on the wall, with shapes resembling entwined vines, made of stone, interlacing until a solid wooden door emerged before them. Malfoy stepped in almost instantly. And Susan had only a moment. A moment before the door closed, to slip inside like a silent, invisible ghost.
She had discovered it. Harry's mystery. She now knew where Malfoy was hiding. Why he didn't appear on the map.
All that remained was to uncover the secret the Slytherin hid in the most mysterious room in Hogwarts.
Lucy watched the game from the section of the stands many students called "the border." Practically the entire student body leaned toward one side: Slytherin or Gryffindor. But there were always a few undecided ones who didn't occupy either side. Under different circumstances, she would have sat with Peter or Susan in the red section, but with her brother being the Slytherin Seeker, she couldn't not cheer for him.
- Hi, Lu - greeted Astoria as she climbed the stands.
Lucy greeted her cheerfully and couldn't help but curiously observe the person accompanying her. The Slytherin girl climbed the steps arm in arm with Anthony Goldstein.
She looked at Astoria, unable to resist raising her eyebrows expressively. The Slytherin girl smiled back.
She remained seated for several seconds before turning her head again to observe the girl. She seemed happy with her companion. Lucy was glad for her if that was something stable. But a part of her felt a twinge of sadness. She had always had the impression that Astoria and Edmund might, at some point, become something more. But perhaps it was just her admiration for Astoria that caused that thought.
- Hello, darling - said a familiar voice next to her.
The biggest smile formed on Lucy Pevensie's face as she turned to look at her mother. Helen Pevensie opened her arms as her daughter threw herself at her for a hug. The two women laughed and kissed each other's cheeks several times.
- What are you doing here, Mom? - asked the Hufflepuff.
- There's something important we need to discuss with all your siblings - she said - but for now, let's cheer for your brother, shall we?
Lucy felt a slight unease run through her body but nodded as her mother put an arm around her shoulders and began to cheer for Edmund.
Ron Weasley blocked every shot. Unbeatable. He spun on his broom over and over, using every part of his body to stop the shots the Slytherins aimed at the Gryffindor hoops. The team was starting to get nervous. This was not what they expected.
Edmund looked at the scoreboard again.
Gryffindor 60 – 0 Slytherin
This was not what he expected. No, no. They thought they would have more points. If Potter caught the Snitch, they were lost...
- Edmund! - cheered a voice, excessively familiar.
Among the crowd, he saw her. Helen Pevensie, waving with a Slytherin scarf hanging around her neck and a smile on her face. His eyes grew moist, and it wasn't from the snow. His mother, who he had heard tell so many stories about her battles against the Slytherins of her generation, wore a green and silver scarf around her neck. Just for him, just for him.
It was then that he saw it. In the space between him and his mother. A small golden dot fluttering near the stands. He didn't think. Better to win with few points than not at all. His broom descended radically, increasing its speed. He then noticed a red figure catching up to him, but a few feet behind.
Harry Potter and Edmund Pevensie continued accelerating towards the Snitch, without stopping. Both determined to win the game for their team.
The crash against the lower part of the stands was thunderous. He heard people scream as both Seekers collided with the wood covering the space from the stands to the ground. He felt the pain in his shoulder and the hit to his leg as he fell to the ground.
But, above all, he felt the cold touch of the golden Snitch fluttering in his closed fist.