Chapter 1
When Sandy is 9, an accident causes the Dursley house to burn down in the middle of the night, killing Petunia and Vernon. Dudley survives and goes to live with Aunt Marge, who refuses to take Sandy, and so the government people look into their family history. They find that Petunia and Lily’s Dad was actually not the man they called father, and that they actually had 2 half-brothers. Their mother had been unmarried when she’d had the girls, and then split with their birth father shortly before giving birth to Lily. She’d met their Father a few months later and got married when Lily was 1 and Petunia 3.
Sandy’s Uncles were Colonel George MerryWeather, and Sir Benjamin MerryWeather. Colonel George was closest and so he took her in, hiring Miss Heliotrope to act as Sandy’s Governess.
She was given the last name MerryWeather, and she used Maria as her given name. Thus, Maria MerryWeather.
Colonel George wasn’t often at home, but Miss Heliotrope was there and taught her how to act as a Lady, they had some weird 19th Century idea of what a Lady was supposed to be like, but all of Colonel George’s work friends remarked on how well mannered and polite she was, so she always took pride in herself.
When she receives her letter for Hogwarts, Colonel George is away again, and they send a response asking for a member of staff to explain everything. McGonagall shows up, and they agree that while it’s not necessary for Colonel George to know exactly where she is going (he’s deeply superstitious) they do need a cover story. So they decide that Maria will be going North with her Governess to attend a boarding school that Miss Heliotrope had attended herself. Miss Heliotrope will remain in London to take care of the household however, and to be there when Maria returns for holidays.
When they go to Gringotts, the Goblin at first refuses, saying that because her formal Magical Guardian hasn’t been claimed by either of the two options, she is unable to access her vault. Then an old man appears behind them, and the Goblin is quick to allow them entry, on the condition that the man (who is Lord Orion Black) claims her magical guardianship. McGonagall wants to refuse, but when he promptly agrees, there is little she can do about it.
He dismisses her, and guides Maria and Miss Heliotrope around Diagon Alley, and is quite pleased to note how well Maria has been raised. They return to Gringotts at the end of the day, and Lord Black asks for a full inheritance test for Maria.
It comes up that she is eligible to be Lady Black, as well as Lady Potter, and she also holds a claim to the MerryWeather Title, should neither of her Uncles marry and have children.
Lord Black makes her Heiress to the Black Family name, and she claims Heirship of the Potter Family. She will only be named head upon her 13th birthday.
Under the Black name, she is to be known as Cassandra, her full given name. As Potter, the public have given her the name Sandy, but she could probably claim Cassandra if she wanted. And MerryWeather (or her Muggle name) is Maria.
It’s all a bit confusing!!
Lord Black invites Cassandra and Miss Heliotrope to visit him every 3rd day, so that he can teach her the Black Family history and traditions. He also teaches her what little he remembers of the Potter Family history and traditions (from when his aunt Dorea Potter was teaching them when they were children).
They do this up until it is time to leave for Hogwarts, and she bids them all goodbye, Grandfather, Miss Heliotrope, and Uncle George.
Having been warned about the barrier, she gets to the train with plenty of time, and sits in a compartment towards the front of the train, close to where the prefects carriage is. She doesn’t meet anyone, as the other students seem to want to avoid the Prefects, but one brown haired boy did smile at her through the window as he was being dragged past by a dirty blonde.
When they get to Hogwarts, and they’re waiting to be taken into the great hall, there’s a couple of students asking where Sandy Potter is, but she doesn’t really hear them, because, for one, she hasn’t used that name in 2 years, and two, she’s centering herself to make sure she’s seen as a calm, poised young lady, so she’s really not paying anyone else all that much attention.
McGonagall returns, and leads them into the hall where they wait for their name to be called to be sorted.
Her name is called as “Potter-Black, Cassandra,” as Grandfather had told her he would be taking her to the Wizengamot meetings during the school year, so she can get used to it and understand it all before he passes on the mantle of Head of House, as well as give her a bit more of a chance for when she enters as Lady Potter. And because of this, she has to attend school as Potter-Black.
The name does stir up a bit of whispering, but she ignores it, going to sit on the stool and allowing the hat to be placed on her carefully pinned hair. (Grandfather had explained the importance of a Witch’s hair, and the magic it contains, as well as what it means to have loose hair.)
The hat places her in Gryffindor, but says she would have done well in either Hufflepuff or Slytherin. Stating that she is good at understanding what needs to be done, and that she is brave enough to do it without hesitation. He asks her to retain the instincts that kept her alive at the Dursleys, and reminds her that entering the Wizengamot will require the cunning of the Snakes, so as not to be so quick to disregard them as so many others do.
Lord Black isn’t exactly happy with her placement, but when she writes what the hat had said, he agrees, and decides to assist her in retaining her slytherin attributes.
A redheaded Ron Weasley attempts to monopolize her time, but she is quick to work out ways of avoiding him, spending time being friendly with as many people as she can across all the houses that let her. The Slytherins aren’t very keen.
The Flying incident does happen, except she had taken to the air alongside Neville, and was able to catch him slightly on the way down, preventing a full break in his wrist. He was told to just watch for the rest of class, which he quickly agrees to. Some of the other Gryffindor boys are throwing around a ball that one of them had brought and when Slytherin Draco Malfoy (her cousin if she remembers Grandfather’s lessons right) steals the ball, throwing it as far as he can in the direction of the forest, she is quick to dive after it, just barely managing to catch it before hitting the ground as she pulls the nose of the broom up to the sky.
Professor McGonagall stalks onto the grounds, yelling at her even as Hootch scolds her. Interspersed with the scolding is praise for her ability and technique, apparently she is a natural flier.
As she hasn’t actually done anything wrong, Cousin Draco gets a detention, and she gets asked to follow Professor McGonagall inside, where she is introduced to the Quidditch Team Captain, a stocky 4th year student called Wood.
He’s a bit hesitant, and so is she, but when they later go down to the pitch to trial her properly, they both realize she’s actually pretty good. He does remind her though, that talent means nothing if effort isn’t put in to maintain it.
She agrees, she had been told the same thing about her dancing, apparently she’s got the talent, however that hadn’t stopped Miss Heliotrope from drilling her on all the many different types of waltz.
They agree to meet up for practices, and he gives her a training program to work on outside of practices, the rest of the team normally do theirs together in the mornings, so she’s welcome to join them.
Her classes are going well, she hasn’t made any close friends, but rather is friendly with everyone and anyone, always ready to assist when asked, and has an open mind when posed a question that challenges her way of thinking.
The teachers all love her for her attention to detail, and her succinct way of communicating ideas through words.
Hermione Granger isn’t exactly fond of her, but after Cassandra goes to her to ask for assistance understanding a transfiguration theory, the girl eventually begins to enjoy the challenge. Some evenings are spent debating different magical theories and how they would apply in scenarios described in Muggle storybooks.
When Hermione is insulted on Halloween, Cassandra follows her to the bathroom, and spends the afternoon listening and supporting her. She returns to the Great Hall to drag Ron to apologize, and they leave just minutes before Quirrel runs in announcing the Troll. They miss the pandemonium and they do not know about the troll.
Ron is in the middle of apologizing when the Troll enters the bathroom. Cassandra’s accidental magic freezes its feet to the ground as she somehow appears on its back, shoving her wand up its nose. Ron levitates the club, dropping it on the troll’s head, just as she conjures a Lumos, with her wand still up the troll’s nose, blinding it from the inside out and the heat creating a great deal of brain damage when combined with the added impact of the dropped club.
The Troll is dead when it hits the floor.
Lord Black, who had arrived to take Cassandra to her first Wizengamot meeting, is not impressed with the teachers, but is impressed with his Heiress, demands that Cassandra is to go with him (despite Dumbledore’s protests that she should return to her dorm after such an ‘exciting adventure’).
Her first Wizengamot meeting is quite eventful after the Troll issue, Lord Black brings it up almost immediately, and despite only being an heir, and thus not supposed to talk to the floor, because she was the only one of the three eyewitnesses present, she is asked to inform them of what happened. And she also gives in her memories as evidence when asked by Amelia Bones of the DMLE.
After the Troll business is dealt with, and she has been formally welcomed as Heiress Potter-Black, under the Black name, the rest of the meeting is really rather dull.
They talk about different laws, and Grandfather whispers to her about who’s who, and their political alignments, and then they go on and on about Cauldron Bottoms. Grandfather tells her they’ve been discussing how to regulate that for the past year.
Afterwards, she is introduced to many Lords and Ladys, who all want to congratulate her on her Heirship, and her triumph with the Troll. Lady Amelia Bones offers that due to her accidental apparition (which had been how she’d appeared on the back of the Troll, despite the many wards preventing such magics within Hogwarts, it had led to many scratched heads and arguments) she would be allowed to take the exam once she has accepted her Position as a Head of House, presumably House Potter.
In the meantime, as long as Lord Black is with her, she is allowed to practice and learn how to control it. Meaning that she has a sort of ‘restricted/learners license.’ Which, while not unheard of, is very rare, and thus they will be keeping it underwraps, especially with her added status as an underage celebrity and member of the Wizengamot.
Grandfather then gives her her first Apparition lesson, showing and explaining side-along as he takes her back to Hogwarts. They pop all over the British Isles on the way, Lord Black allowing her to pop a few feet away from him before they attempt a larger jump. By the time she returns to the castle, she has managed to apparate on her own twice, as long as she can see where she is about to appear.
Upon her return to the castle, she is swarmed by Gryffindor students wanting to know where she’d been, as well as hear her side of the Troll story they’d already received from Ron and Hermione. She merely tells them that she had attended a meeting and that an official outline would be told at dinner the next evening. They aren’t exactly happy with this answer, but the Quidditch team are quick to surround her, blocking her from the other students and allowing her to go to her dorm unhindered. She gives them thankful hugs before going to bed.
She’s the talk of the castle for a bit, up until Cousin Draco challenges Ronald to a midnight duel where he names her his second. She’s very much against this, and tells McGonagall of it, Ronald is very irritated with her, but when they get stuck outside of the portrait, he drags her along to go anyway. Hermione is with them, and very much agrees with Cassandra that they should just wait for the Fat Lady to return, but Ron is physically pulling Cassandra, so Hermione feels she has no other choice but to go along too. They don’t actually get to the trophy room, the stairs taking them a different way so they end up on the 3rd floor instead.
They find the dog, and in his desperation to get out, Ron accidentally shoves her towards it, making her fall right in front of its snapping jaws.
The duo don’t realize she’s not right behind them, and when Hermione frantically locks the door, it takes her a moment to notice they’re missing their friend.
They panic, and try to unlock the door, but because of their panic, the spell doesn’t work as it should. They keep trying and failing to unlock the door, until they hear Filch coming, when they hide in a nearby alcove as he checks the door it locked, locking it further with a muttering under his breath, before moving on. They frantically go back to trying to open the door.
Meanwhile, Cassandra has been frantically trying to dodge 3 heads.
She’s just barely able to stay out of reach, quidditch practices with the bludgers having helped a lot. At one point she manages to somehow dive underneath its belly, and upon noticing the trap door, hauls it open, dropping it as she slips in with it thudding closed above her head as the dog crashes into it. She lands on something soft, and casting her Lumos brightens the room, sending the unknown plant squealing as it retreats to the darker corners of the room. She dulls the light in sympathy, but realizes that she needs it to be able to see, so doesn't turn it off completely (not realising the light would save her life).
She then goes into the room full of keys, and spends an awful amount of time just enjoying flying with them. At first the keys chase her, and she dodges out of the way, startled, but she quickly understands, and the one key that’s not chasing her is the one she practices as a snitch. She’s down here, she’s got murder keys after her, she might as well.
When she eventually catches the snitch-key, the rest fall to the floor, wings fluttering in exhaustion, and she pats one gently as she dismounts the broom, the point of the key rising feebly in an attempt to attack her hand.
She fits the snitch-key gently into the lock, before opening the door and allowing the key to fly ahead of her, into a large hall with life-sized chess figures standing ready to play on the board.
The key hovers around her head while she examines the game, before settling gently into her breast pocket.
She at first tries to walk around the outside of the board, but quickly finds the way blocked by swords as 2 pawns herd her back to the front of the room.
Miss Heliotrope had been trying to teach her how to play chess, for the rare occasions Uncle George was home, but she wasn’t very good at it. Neither of them were.
Lord Black was good. He was very good.
But unfortunately, he’s not here to help her.
But there’s the broom in the room behind her.
So she turns on her heel, opens the door just long enough to grab the broom, as the other keys seem to have regained enough energy to pummel themselves into the wood of the door as she hastily closes it.
Mounting the broom, she flies easily over the board, and then through the next chamber as another troll snores, snot flying out its nose and almost hitting her as she passes.
She is very quiet when she lands and opens the next door, entering a dark room with only a table, and flames flickering merely in the other doorway.
The table is covered in an array of bottles, and a quick glance at a piece of paper has her working on the riddle. Sniffing a couple of the bottles, she puts them aside as wine. Then she easily works out the rest. Miss Heliotrope is very fond of her riddles. Except normally they’re in french, and half of the issue is translating it.
This one is in English, which Cassandra is very grateful for.
She takes a short sip of the bottle that will get her through the flames, and then cautiously makes her way into the next room. Hopefully she’ll find her way out eventually, these rooms all have to lead somewhere don't they?
This room is empty, aside from a mirror.
And approaching the mirror, Cassandra can see herself within, surrounded by people she doesn’t recognise, yet feel as familiar to her as her own face.
There’s a redheaded lady with green eyes like her own. 2 black-haired men, one with glasses and both with teasing smirks on their faces, arms looped around each other and 2 other men with brown hair. One of the brown-haired men is tall and thin, with thick scarring across his face, and a frailty in his frame that makes him appear sickly, despite his joyful eyes. The other brown-haired man is short and pudgy, and narrow eyes that have a kind mischievous light behind them. His arm is bandaged though, and every so often he casts a fearful look of pain down at it.
Grandfather is there too, standing directly behind her, with one hand on her shoulder and a proud smile stretching across his face. Miss Heliotrope is there too, nodding approvingly as she sits in her favorite armchair, working a needle through a project they had finished just before she left for Hogwarts. Uncle George is there in the background too, but he just smiles and nods at her, as prominent in the image as he is in her life.
There’s more faceless people surrounding her, including younger children that dance around the legs of the adults. A faceless boy, only a few years older than herself hugs the mirror version of herself, ruffling her hair, the way she’d seen the older Weasley brothers do to Ron.
It pulls at something in her heart.
She’s not sure what the image is showing her. Why do some people have faces and others don't? Does she know those people her heart recognises? Did they once mean something to her that she has long since forgotten?
She doesn’t know.
But the image calls to her anyways, and as she approaches the glass, reaching out one hand to touch it, her mirrored face is replaced by that of a golden lion, staring gently down at her as her fingers touch his mane.
Amazingly, she can actually feel the softness of his fur. The warmth spreads through her body as she’s sucked into the mirror, and despite tumbling through the air, the presence of the lion calms her and she feels no fear.
She lands gently on a snowbank under the warm yellow light of a lamp in the middle of a dense forest. The lion is gone, but the warmth of his fur remains, and she isn’t cold. There are footprints leading away from the lamp, and, having no better option, she follows them. She’s no tracker, but the prints are mostly clear in the crisp white snow, and she thinks that they belong to a small group of maybe 3 or 4 people. She follows them for a short while before coming across a hole in a face of rock. It looks like someone may have used to live there, but has recently been violently evicted. There’s wooden furniture pulled out of the cave, lying strewn through the clearing and the wooden door is smashed in. She gingerly peaks her head inside the doorway, and sees the inside is even worse.
Delicate chinaware shattered on torn carpet, rough claw marks streaking through stuffed armchairs with the insides falling out. There’s a set of panpipes through to one corner, and she picks them up carefully, they don’t seem ruined, so she tucks them gently into the pocket of her uniform. The Flying key seems to wake up at this point, fluttering out of her breast pocket to hover in the air, seemingly testing the temperature before diving into her hair, fluttering against the back of her neck, tickling at her ears.
She giggles, but quickly stops as the sound echoes around the empty cave.
The break in was recent, very recent. She doesn’t want the perpetrators to find her.
A small flute hung above the mostly intact fireplace catches her eye, and she stretches up on her tiptoes to reach it, just barely managing to knock it off its place and catching it before it hits the ground. It’s a beautiful little flute, made from hollowed wood with carefully polished carvings.
That also goes into her pockets.
Making her way carefully outside, she finds the next set of tracks, and follows them. There’s another member of the group now, seeming to have approached from behind a tree before joining them. These tracks don’t look like shoes though, or if they are, they’re the weirdest shoes Cassandra has ever seen in her life!
But she follows the tracks anyways, because she has nothing better to do with no idea of where she is.
Eventually the tracks lead her to a small beaver dam, where it looks like there’s lights on inside. But that’s absurd. Not even wizards live in beaver dams.
But as she approaches, a door bursts open and 3 children pour out into the night, calling desperately for an ‘Edmund’
2 large creatures follow them out, she supposes they’re beavers, but they’re much larger than she’d ever thought beavers to be, and one of them notices her, calling the others attention as it cautiously approaches.
“You there!” It calls out, ‘Who are you?”
“I’m Cassandra, and I appear to be quite lost. Might I inquire as to where I am?” she asks politely, barely managing to mask her shock at the creature speaking.
“You’re human?” one of the children asks, the boy, he seems to be about 13 years old, and the older of the two girls stands warily at his side, eyeing her, even as their sister smiles warmly.
“Yes, I am human, and I presume you are as well?”
“Yes we are!” the youngest girl exclaims joyfully, “I’m Lucy, and this is Peter and Susan! We’re looking for our brother, Edmund, did you see him?” “Lucy!” Peter hisses at his sister, even as Casandra shakes her head.
“He can’t have gone very far in this snow, when did you lose him?” she asks. “We think he left maybe 10 minutes ago.” Lucy tells her solemnly. Cassandra nods thoughtfully, casting around for more tracks. Spotting them, a stark contrast to the smooth snow, she points towards them, and follows in his footsteps.
But a quick exclamation from the Beaver stops her in her tracks. “No! That’s the way to the White Witch! You said he’s been to Narnia before? Are you certain he didn’t meet anyone?”
Lucy shakes her head. “He never mentioned anyone.”
“If he’s headed that way, he most likely met the witch. Come! He will surely tell her and then she will be hunting you all! We must get away before her wolves get here!” The Beaver cajoles them all.
Cassandra finds herself hurried down into the beaver dam, and wrapped in thick blankets as Peter apologizes for not having another jacket even as Lucy and Susan argue with the Beavers about leaving their brother. But all protests are quickly put to a stop when howling fills the air, and a shuddering crash hits the door.
Through the narrow windows Cassandra can see large wolves prowling around the small house, jumping on the roof every so often, trying to break the wood.
The Beavers cry out in fear, and Cassandra is mildly surprised to realize one of them seems to be female.
Everyone huddles together in the center of the room as the male beaver pulls back a rug, showing a cleverly hidden trapdoor.
Another trapdoor, just what got her into this mess in the first place (after the three-headed dog of course). And pulling it open, they’re all herded down into the small tunnel. Cassandra is last, and manages to grab the edge of the rug in such a way that it will fall back into place on top of the trapdoor as it closes, buying them a little extra time.
The Beavers each have a lamp, and they hurry down the tunnel, trying to make as little noise as possible despite their puffing breaths in the frigid air.
The warmth of the lion is almost gone, just a small bit lying nestled deep within her chest.
Eventually the tunnel comes to an end, and after carefully listening at the door, the Beaver pokes his nose out, then leads them out, cautiously sniffing the air.
“Well, hello there,” a sly voice calls out from among the statues littering the clearing. A fox saunters into view, a small smirk on his face, that seems forced as though he would really rather not be smirking, but had to for whatever reason.
“Who’re you?” Peter demands, pushing his sisters behind him even as it leaves Cassandra exposed. The fox ignores him, coming to stand in front of her.
“Princess.” He bows low at her feet, and Cassandra just gapes at him, clearly befuddled.
“Traitor!” the male beaver pushes forwards, snarling as he ignores Cassandra. “Oh puh-lease Mr Beaver, that is my cousins, the Wolves, they have aligned themselves with the White Witch. Meanwhile I myself carry orders from Aslan himself.” He tells them smugly, pride dripping from each word.
“You?” Mr Beaver spits, “You have orders from Aslan?”
“Who’s Aslan?” Cassandra asks the Fox. “He is the great King, the Lion that protects Narnia, you have met him already my Princess.”
“You have?” “I have?” voices echo around the clearing.
He nods, “on your journey here through the mirror. Aslan guided your path and protected you.”
“The lion” she breathes, and he smiles, a true smile this time. “He has asked that you continue North, to join him at the Stone Table, there is a camp waiting for you there.” Cassandra nods, pulling out her wand as she casts a point-me, ignoring the others staring at her with open mouths as she watches the wand spin on her hand before settling on a final direction. North.
“You have magic.” Peter accuses, even as Lucy’s eyes are wide with awed delight. “You said you were human.”
“And I am, my name is Cassandra Maria Potter-Black-MerryWeather, I live in London for most of the year and have only recently joined a boarding school when I found out I was magic.” She tells them calmly. She can see the suspicion in Peter and Susan’s eyes, but she ignores it in favor of Miss Heliotrope’s lessons about staying in control of both yourself and the situation.
“I was exploring a section of my school when I was trapped in a series of rooms. The last room had a mirror which showed me the face of a Lion.” She’s not sure why she’s not telling them of the people she had seen, but for some reason it feels personal, private, only meant for her. “I touched the glass and fell through, I was falling for quite some time, but the lion stayed with me until I landed in the snow by a streetlamp. I then followed some tracks I believe to be yours to a house in a cave and then again to the dam.”
Lucy is nodding at her, “the house belonged to my friend Mr Tumnus, he was taken by the wolves.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” Cassandra tells the girl solemnly. Pulling out a pair of black gloves, she offers them to her, “the color of mourning,” she explains softly, “they’ll also keep your hands warm.”
Lucy smiles at her, accepting the gloves with a small whispered thanks, they’re a bit big on the girl, but not by much as Cassandra has always been small for her age after years of being locked in the cupboard by the Dursleys.
A scuffle at the earthen door they had just come through makes them all look at each other in alarm. “Quickly Princess! Into the trees!” The fox urges her. She nods, grasping the handle of her wand again. “Wingardium Leviosa.” She intones, pointing it at Lucy and lifting her gently into the branches. Before Peter and Susan can object, she does the same to them, depositing them each into a tree of their own. The Beavers cling onto each other to be lifted together, but when she points her wand at the fox, he shakes his head, “not me my lady, they shall want answers.”
“Very well my friend, but tell me first, what is your name?” She pleads softly, careful not to speak too loud, “Criofan Fox My Princess.” He bows low once more. “Criofan Fox, I thank you,” and she inclines her head in respect before hurrying into the trees. Peter is glaring down at her, but she ignores him as she struggles to lift herself into the branches.
“Catch!” she whisper-yells up to him, throwing the heavy blankets up into his arms. Thankfully, he manages to catch them without falling from his branch, and it makes it a lot easier to pull herself up, despite her arms going numb.
She settles herself just as the first wolves burst through the hatch.
They quickly surround Criofan, even as more wolves scour the area, looking for them.
One large wolf is clearly in charge, and he approaches Criofan, the others making way for him. “Cousin.” He acknowledges. “Did you perhaps see a group of humans pass through this way?” His voice is testing, steel against stone, “be warned, whatever your answer is will decide if you are a traitor to the Queen.”
“I am no traitor!” Criofan snarls back, and Cassandra can feel Peter tense beside her. “I saw no humans! I knew not that the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve had arrived!”
The wolf lunges, snapping at Criofan’s tail as he continues to circle him. “You saw no humans did you? Despite them having just passed through here?” He mocks, clearly disbelieving.
Criofan freezes as the wolf approaches once more, sniffing at the fox’s neck. “But your scent betrays no lie… hmmm.” The other wolves growl low in their throats.
“Very well then cousin, you shall be allowed to live, though I suggest you make your way swiftly to the Queen to pledge her your loyalty, traitors are to be executed, as your brother knows well enough!” The wolf laughs nastily and a dreadful feeling settles in Cassandra’s stomach. What happened to Criofan’s brother?
The surrounding wolves laugh too, before circling Criofan once more in a dizzying frenzy and abruptly disappearing into the trees.
Everyone’s relief is evident on their faces, and Criofan nearly sags as Cassandra sinks into the snow beside him.
“My Princess, hurry North, Aslan awaits you!” He urges, and she holds out a hand to him, “Come with us my friend! Please! Who knows what they’ll do to you should they find you lied!” But he shakes his head, “I must continue south, to spread the word of Aslan!” Pride tinges his words, and Cassandra knows that no amount of persuasion will take him from his path.
“Very well, I wish you safe travels, and do come find me when you return please? I would wish to know of your safety.” Criofan nods once more, bowing low and then taking off into the trees, disappearing from sight.
“Hurry now children! We mustn’t delay!” Mr Beaver exclaims as Peter silently hands her back her blankets. Wrapping them around her shoulders, she nods at him in thanks and then follows the rest of the group out of the clearing of statues.
They walk for hours in silence, and the sun is rising in the sky when Peter finally breaks the silence. “So you’re a witch? From London?”
“Yes.” She tells him shortly.
“After the witch-hunts the magical world withdrew, going into hiding to protect the last pockets of magic. We have unicorns and dragons and all sorts of amazing creatures. Muggles, non-magicals, were killing them out of fear, they were killing us. And so we sought to protect ourselves.” She pauses for breath, inhaling a mouthful of icy cold air.
“There was a blanket spell cast, one of the largest in recorded history, designed to make muggles think magic was just a story, that none of the tales they had grown up with were real. We created little pockets, diverting paths around them so the muggles wouldn’t notice. We survived despite everyone trying to kill us.”
She speaks quietly, just loud enough for Peter to hear, she gets the feeling that once he approves of her, Susan will accept his judgment, and Lucy already doesn’t mind her magic. Neither do the Beavers.
“I was born into a magical family, my father’s line has been magical since near the very beginning, not quite one of the founding families, but supposedly they have links to the very first Magical line. My mother was what we call a Muggle-born, being that neither of her parents had magic, and when she displayed the first signs, the ministry sent a representative to explain it all to her.”
Peter nods in understanding, but the suspicion is still there in his eyes. “You said you only just found out you were magic?”
“Yes,” she agrees. “My parents were casualties in a civil war shortly after I was born, I was sent to live with my Aunt and Uncle, who, despite knowing of the existence of magic, decided I was to have no part in it, and denied me my heritage until they perished in a house fire when I was nine. I was then sent to live with my Uncle George, and I lived there until I received a letter from the school informing me of the starting dates for term. We asked for someone to explain it all and in the process met a man I now call Grandfather. He taught me plenty about the magical world in the month or so that I had before the start of term. I’ve only been at the school for a couple of months now, so I’m hardly a very accomplished witch.”
Peter laughs at her self-deprecation, “well, as you said, you’ve only known for a few months!”
She giggles slightly, but the sound of ringing bells makes her panic.
“Quickly! Hide! Someone’s coming!”
They all dive behind a snow bank as the sound of a sled draws to a halt on the other side. Cassandra can hear the heavy breaths of whatever was drawing the sleigh and she feels a gloved hand slide into her own as Lucy looks up at her with fear in her big blue eyes.
Mr Beaver nods at them once, “I’ll go see who it is.” He gives a snuffling kiss to Mrs Beaver, and then walks around the other side of the snow bank.
They hold their breath in the baited silence.
“Oh children! I hope you’ve been good! There’s someone here to see you!” His cheerful voice calls out to them. Lucy and Susan move to go, but Peter and Cassandra hold them back, understanding passing through them at a glance. It could be a trap.
Cassandra holds up her wand, and then peaks around the side of their shelter. The sight that meets her eyes is astonishing. And she withdraws her head to look back at Peter, “it’s ok, it’s safe… I think… I think it’s Father Christmas.” He raises his eyebrows, but follows her out, the other two trailing behind them as Mrs Beaver waddles over to join her husband.
And indeed, it is Father Christmas. With a silver sleigh pulled by reindeer, with glittering bells hanging from the cords that string them all together. The man himself is large, with a snow white beard, big twinkling blue eyes, and a smile that instantly calms Cassandra’s beating heart.
“Hello children!” He exclaims joyfully. Lucy squeals with delight and runs into his open arms for a hug, the older three hang back, exchanging careful glances.
“Father Christmas! Oh it’s really you!”
“Yes it is my dear Lucy, it has been some time since I have been able to journey through Narnia, that miserable witch delaying Christmas! But now that you children have arrived, the snows are beginning to thaw, spring will be upon us soon enough!” The Beavers chitter at his words, “the river passage! We’ll have to hurry then! Before the ice melts!”
“Yes my friends, but worry not, for we still have some time for presents before you must leave.” Father Christmas turns back to his sleigh, riffling through the large red sack for a few moments before pulling out a sword and shield. “Peter, Adam’s son.”
“Here sir.” “These are your presents, and they are tools, not toys. The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well.” He presents the sheathed sword to Peter who takes it carefully, buckling it to his waist before accepting the shield which he fastens to his arm.
The shield was the color of silver and across it there ramped a red lion, as bright as a ripe strawberry at the moment when you pick it. The hilt of the sword was of gold and it had a sheath and a sword belt and everything it needed, and it was just the right size and weight for Peter to use. Peter was silent and solemn as he received these gifts, for he felt they were a very serious kind of present.
"Susan, Eve's Daughter," said Father Christmas. "These are for you," and he handed her a bow and a quiver full of arrows and a little ivory horn. "You must use the bow only in great need," he said, "for I do not mean you to fight in the battle. It does not easily miss. And when you put this horn to your lips and blow it, then, wherever you are, I think help of some kind will come to you."
"Lucy, Eve's Daughter," and Lucy came forward. He gave her a little bottle of what looked like glass (but people said afterwards that it was made of diamond) and a small dagger. "In this bottle," he said, "there is a cordial made of the juice of one of the fire-flowers that grow on the mountains of the sun. If you or any of your friends is hurt, a few drops of this will restore them. And the dagger is to defend yourself at great need. For you also are not to be in the battle."
"Why, sir?" said Lucy. "I think- I don't know- but I think I could be brave enough."
"That is not the point," he said. "But battles are ugly when women fight.”
She nods slightly, not quite happy about it, but knowing that Peter and Susan would do their best not to let her fight anyway.
“And finally, Cassandra Maria, Daughter of the Moon and Magic.” Cassandra approaches him. “You have a gift waiting for you, originally given to your ancestor many years ago, you will need to find them when you return,” she nods seriously, “they were a gift from nature, and to nature you will return them yes?” He asks, raising one eyebrow inquisitively. “Yes sir.” She agrees. His stern expression flips in an instant to a radiant beam, “wonderful! And in the meantime, Helga would have been proud to have you in her house.” And he hands her a massive battle axe with feathers and beads hanging from the handle.
“Know when to fight, as is your duty, but also, know when to make peace. That flute in your pocket is something special, take good care of it.”
She nods at him, one hand going to the pocket with the flute while the other holds the massive axe. It’s surprisingly light for its size, and holding it in one hand is no challenge, but after Father Christmas is gone, and Peter tries to help her strap it to her back, he can barely lift it, and they decide it must be enchanted to match her.
Word Count: 6,977