Chapter 23
Peter Pevensie turned the knob of the late professor’s study. It was locked, as expected. The door trembled under his touch, moving in a way that only magic could cause.
“Password?” whispered a familiar voice.
The boy smiled upon hearing Digory Kirke’s voice, replicated by his magic, which clearly still lingered in the house. He wasn’t startled or distressed. He had expected this.
“When it bares its teeth, winter shall meet its death,” Peter recited calmly.
The door slowly opened, letting the boy pass. No one could have ever guessed that password, so Peter assumed the professor had never bothered to change it. The Pevensies had always had access to the study.
There were no signs that anyone had forced their way in when Peter glanced around. It was as if the professor had just stepped out. A few papers on the desk, some disorganized stacks of books near the window, and a small, wilted flower beside them.
Peter sat at the desk. He ran his fingers over the wood before turning his attention to the documents scattered on the surface. Letters of gratitude for various lectures, an outline on the Goblin Wars, and a crumpled sheet with scribbled dates and numbers, which Peter pushed aside to inspect later. He had to be quick.
He moved on to the drawers. Opening the bag Polly had lent him, he began packing a few books that caught his eye. Both books fell into the bottom of the sack, taking longer than expected due to the bag’s small size. The extension charm seemed to be working well.
“Interesting,” Peter murmured as he finally opened the bottom drawer.
Inside was a dark green notebook with the professor’s name in silver letters. The first page had a title written in the professor’s handwriting: “Journey Between Worlds”. Peter flipped through a few pages and found clippings, notes, photographs. The notebook seemed enchanted as well, as Peter took much longer than expected to reach the end, despite not stopping to read. What looked like a modest journal from the outside was, in reality, the work of a lifetime, hidden by magic.
Peter flinched. Someone had opened a door nearby. He checked his watch. Time had flown by.
Could it be Slughorn? Or maybe Polly? It didn’t matter; he had to be ready. The intruder could be someone familiar, but maybe not. Maybe it wasn’t a member of the Order—it could be someone after the same thing he was, or worse, after him.
He raised his wand, ready to cast a Disillusionment Charm, when the intruder’s voice echoed from the adjacent room.
The members of the Order quickly left the gloomy room through the new passageway Polly had opened. They moved swiftly, the tension in the air palpable, as if the house itself was breathing with them, watchful. Robert and Helen Pevensie, leading the way, ran frantically.
The witch shoved doors open as she went, waving her wand in all directions, searching relentlessly. Robert, always at her side, moved silently, his weapon ready for attack, though his thoughts were focused on one thing: his little Lucy.
“She should be around here,” Polly insisted, glancing at Helen.
“Well, there’s no sign of her,” Remus replied seriously.
Helen didn’t speak. She kept opening doors along the hallway anxiously, waving her wand back and forth. Robert walked silently, serious, just behind her, his wand in a defensive position.
“I’ll go get the others,” the old woman said, turning – “Oh, thank goodness! Susan!”
Helen stepped out of the room and ran down the hall toward her eldest daughter, who had just appeared. Susan looked puzzled.
“I thought you’d be in hiding,” the girl said, approaching to embrace her father.
“Something came up,” Robert said, stroking Susan’s hair.
“Where are your siblings?” Tonks asked.
“Here,” Edmund’s voice interrupted. “At least one of them.”
Edmund Pevensie popped his head around the corner with a smile as Helen sighed in relief and rushed to embrace him. After greeting his father, Edmund and his sister stood together, each enveloped in one of Robert’s arms.
“Do you know anything about Peter and Lucy?” Polly asked.
“Lucy should be around here,” Susan said.
“And Peter’s in the professor’s study.”
“We need to find them,” Fred said, glancing at the rest of the team. “Helen, you should stay with them. Maybe it’s better to take them back to Slughorn.”
“It’s better if Robert comes with me, and we take them to the other students,” Polly suggested. “An Auror’s presence won’t raise as much suspicion.”
“What’s going on?” Susan asked, alarmed.
“There’s someone in the house,” Helen said. “Someone other than us. We don’t know who, but they trapped us shortly after we arrived…”
“Find Lucy first,” Edmund said. “Peter’s safe in the study, protected by the professor’s password.”
“Agreed,” Polly muttered. “But you two are coming with me.”
Susan and Edmund weren’t thrilled by the idea, but the look on the Order members' faces made it clear there was no room for negotiation. They moved along with their father and the professor through the mansion, heading toward where their companions were.
Slughorn rushed toward them as soon as they arrived. The students seemed a bit uneasy, sitting around the room in small groups, unsure why the professor was keeping them there.
“Oh, thank goodness, Polly! Can you explain…?”
“There’s no time, Horace,” Polly interrupted. “We must wait here; it’s vital. We’ll secure the route to the Portkey as soon as possible…”
“A student is missing,” the professor said, nervously.
“What do you mean?” Robert said. “You mean Lucy? We’re working on it…”
“No, no,” Slughorn stammered. “Miss Granger. She’s not here.”
“What do you mean she’s not here?” Helen said, even more agitated.
“I did a headcount shortly after you left, and she wasn’t there.”
“You had one job, Horace!” Polly shouted, unable to contain her anger.
“I’m sure she’s fine…”
“There’s an intruder in the house!” Polly snapped. “She’s not safe.”
Before anyone could react, one of the students bolted toward the door.
“Harry!” Susan exclaimed.
Harry Potter, who had overheard everything, darted out of the room before anyone could stop him. Susan Pevensie, driven by instinct, followed, ignoring the adults’ shouts behind her.
She ran through the corridors, following the boy, who rushed aimlessly, shouting his friend’s name. Susan tried to stop him, but it was no use. No matter how much she yelled, the boy didn’t stop his frantic search.
A chill ran down Susan’s spine when Harry stopped, several corridors later, realizing they were trapped in a dead-end room. This part of the house was eerie, and it made them both aware of just how far they had strayed from the adults.
“There’s someone in the house, Harry,” Susan whispered, gesturing slowly with her left hand. “Let the adults handle this.”
“Hermione could be in danger,” Harry said.
“And now I am too… we are too,” Susan replied. “Peter and Lucy are somewhere in the house, and we’re not helping them like this…”
“What’s that?” Harry asked, cutting her off.
“What?” Susan asked.
“That,” he repeated, pointing.
Susan turned her head to where the Gryffindor was pointing. It took her a moment to see it, but she finally focused on it. It was a trapdoor, hidden under a rug that had been shifted. It was open, and a faint, flickering light came from it.
“Has that always been there?” Harry asked the Ravenclaw.
“Don’t you dare,” Susan hissed. “We are not going down there.”
“Peter?” Hermione Granger’s voice echoed softly but firmly in the dark study.
The boy, still on high alert, felt the tension that had gripped his shoulders vanish as he recognized the girl’s voice. He stepped out of the room, guided by the faint glow of her wand at the entrance.
“Is that you, Peter?” Hermione asked again.
Her silhouette was barely visible under the light of their wands.
“Yes, it’s me,” he replied in a low, cautious tone. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the group?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, her voice now tinged with curiosity. “How did you get in? It’s open, but something… something won’t let me cross the threshold.”
“The professor protected the room,” Peter explained, his eyes fixed on the dark threshold that seemed to vibrate with barely perceptible magic. “Wait, I’ll help you.”
With slow steps, Peter approached and extended his hand. The air around the threshold trembled as though the very space resisted being crossed, but he passed through without hesitation. He didn’t think about what it meant to let Hermione into a room where Professor Kirke’s deepest secrets were hidden. He simply reached out, and the delicate touch of her hand intertwined with his. A nearly imperceptible flicker, like a wisp of ancient light, shimmered momentarily in the invisible barrier.
“Thank you,” Hermione murmured with a half-smile as she stepped through the unseen boundary between them.
“You shouldn’t have left. You were safer with Professor Slughorn,” Peter said, his voice holding a hint of warning.
“Weren’t you safer too?” Hermione countered, her eyes searching his.
“Do you always answer a question with another question?” Peter asked, unable to suppress a slight smile.
“Only until I get my answers,” she replied.
Peter lowered his gaze for a second, weighing his words before speaking again.
“I’m afraid I can’t explain anything. I’ll just say I need to… retrieve some important things,” he said, fearing he was revealing too much.
“How mysterious…” Hermione said in a tone that tried to be light, though her eyes still sparkled with suspicion. “Can I at least help?”
“Would you accept no for an answer?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We both know the answer to that,” Hermione replied firmly.
Peter sighed, surprised to find himself feeling a bit relieved by the Gryffindor’s response.
“All right. You can help,” he conceded at last. “But no questions.”
“Fine,” she said with a soft huff. “That’ll be the hardest part of the task.”
Peter smirked as he opened the door to the second room. This time, there were no flashes, only the soft creak of wood yielding to them.
“After you,” he said, gesturing gallantly, though his expression didn’t match the gesture.
“Thank you,” Hermione replied with a slight bow.
As the girl moved forward, her eyes never stopped scanning every dark corner of the room, as if searching for something. And once again, Peter wondered if it had been a good idea to let the brightest witch of her generation into a place full of secrets that he was supposedly trying to hide.
But one thing was clear. Peter Pevensie was never completely rational around Hermione Granger.
Susan Pevensie could barely breathe as she began descending the stairs behind Harry Potter. She shouldn’t be going down there, she shouldn’t. It was too dangerous, too reckless. She never did reckless things. Yet here she was, following “The Chosen One” into a mansion abandoned months ago, where suspicious presences seemed to lurk.
“Harry…” she whispered as they reached the bottom.
A faint light illuminated the room, but it was shrouded in drapes hanging from the wooden ceiling, obscuring much of the room. Susan began descending the stairs with one hand while tightly gripping her wand with the other.
There was someone else there; her magic could sense it. A whispered spell was all it took to confirm it. Two people, aside from Potter and herself.
Her feet softly touched the floor after Harry’s, and Susan Pevensie quickly turned to check the room, but her vision was limited. The faint beam of light illuminating her face came from a small gap between two curtains.
The floor creaked beneath her feet, but the sound was drowned out by the voices on the other side of the drapes. Heart pounding, Susan approached the gap.
Lucy was sitting, facing the gap, several meters away. At first, Susan thought she had been mistaken. She seemed to be alone in the room. The Ravenclaw was about to call out to her sister, but just then, a figure blocked her view, plunging her back into darkness.
Susan jumped back, startled, as Harry Potter lunged forward.
“Stupef—!” the boy began to shout.
Harry ripped the curtain aside, allowing the candlelight to illuminate their faces, while Susan, frozen in place, watched as he attacked the mysterious figure with speed.
“No!” Lucy Pevensie cried, her voice full of desperation. “Protego!”
The Hufflepuff’s excellent Shield Charm wasn’t necessary, as Harry Potter stopped his attack immediately at the teenager’s cry.
Susan turned pale as the figure standing next to Lucy turned to face them, revealing their face.
The girl couldn’t believe it. She had assumed this person had been dead for some time now. That once-familiar stern expression, which had eventually earned her affection, now showed a faint look of terror. She was much thinner than Susan remembered, and her white hair, dirty and disheveled, was tied in a messy bun. Her teary eyes met Susan’s.
“Hello, dear,” she said with a trembling voice.
Susan was speechless.
“Mrs. Macready?” she whispered, breathless.
The woman formed a weak smile on her pale face.