Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own any of these characters or settings, and even more unfortunately, I am not making any money out of this.

The latest crisis began, thankfully, in the afternoon. He had a sneaking suspicion that he did not cut quite as impressive a figure as he thought when wearing an expensive brocade dressing gown, and an unfortunate number of crises occurred at an ungodly hour of the night. He realized that there was trouble immediately, and came down the grand staircase in a very stately way. It was instantly obvious what was causing the trouble.

Christopher sighed. The children had gone out picnicking, so he would not even have Eric's help on this one. It was a very fine June day, a day not to be wasted, in the children's opinion, by staying inside and doing boring adult things. "Don't worry," Janet had told Christopher sternly. "After all, if anything happens and you need us, Cat can just bring us back." And she'd beamed proudly at her not-quite-brother, who'd smiled shyly back.

Millie had worried worse than Christopher. "But what if something happens to you?" she protested. "You're too young to be out all day on your own!"

"Mother!" Julia had protested. "Janet and I are fourteen now! And Cat and Marianne are twelve. They're not babies."

His wife had agreed, if reluctantly, especially after Janet had pointed out, again, that Eric could always teleport them back. "But I do so worry," she had confided to Christopher as the children dematerialized.

He should have known not to worry about them. Eric was extremely sensible and much more powerful than him and could certainly handle almost anything. It was always Christopher himself who got in trouble, he thought resignedly as he stepped down off the red carpeted staircase, leaving his long, delicate hand resting on the banister for effect. He should probably summon Eric back, but Christopher had very vivid memories of his own childhood and was determined not to ruin his young ward's day unless it became clear he could not handle things by himself.

Christopher gazed at the thing which had so unceremoniously shattered the many layered wards protecting Chrestomanci Castle. He could not help thinking that it was rather ugly. It was also blue, square, and very slowly materializing from some unknown location.

Christopher schooled his face into his vaguest look.

l

Cat was enjoying the picnic immensely. He did like Chrestomanci, very much, and magic lessons were enjoyable, in a way, but it was a relief to get out in the fresh air, away from the stifling wards suffocating the Castle. He was feeling very happy and light-headed, and as he looked around at his friends he found himself thinking how very much he liked them all. Roger and Joe were deep in discussion of The Flying Menace, Mark II, while wolfing down bread rolls liberally slathered with forbidden marmalade. Julia was weaving flowers into a wreath, her magic working away at weaving some spell in with the green stems. Janet- he felt a rush of affection for the sister he'd always wanted- was carefully buttering a biscuit and listening to one of Klartch's tall tales. And Marianne, who was brushing bread crumbs from her lap, looked up and caught his eye, and they both smiled shyly. He was still not quite sure when he had become best friends with Marianne, but he did like her a lot, even if she was a girl.

Cat lay down on the soft grass and felt out with his dwimmer powers, the magic he had only just learned that he had. He gradually became aware of each blade of grass, each weed, each wildflower. He felt a rabbit, nervous so near to humans. He calmed its mind and broadened his field of awareness. Cat sped down the road, skimming over the miles like a bird, until he came to the Castle, its firm, quiet strength a constant reassurance, the magical beacon of Chrestomanci emanating waves of power within. But something was wrong. The wards were-

"Cat?" Marianne's voice broke his meditation. He glanced up, irritated. "Oh. Sorry," she said contritely. Then she saw his frown. "What's wrong?"

Cat shook his head, confused. "N-nothing," he stammered. "I mean, I thought... but I'm probably wrong."

Klartch sensed his distress and broke off mid-story, clambering to all fours and shaking his mighty wings. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Why Cat worried?"

"Nothing," he said, and it probably was, but, not for the first time, Cat wished he could tell people things. He seemed to have some sort of psychological problem, because whenever something important happened, his mouth shut and he had to deal with it himself, usually with disastrous results. He sighed. "I just want to check something. I'll be back in a minute, you carry on without me," he said, and teleported himself back to the Castle.

He knew something was wrong immediately. The stillness of the Castle was broken, replaced by a jarring alarm. It was centered around the Main Hall, so he took himself there. There was definitely a problem, all right. A strange blue box was materializing in the middle of the room, accompanied by a grinding noise and a flashing light. Chrestomanci was watching from the staircase, an extremely vague expression on his face. Cat ran towards him, ready to shout urgent questions. Before he could get there, however, something happened.

l

The blue box fully materialized. Christopher opened his mouth. A door in the box opened.

Out came a rather strange young blond man wearing a cricketer's uniform. He turned to Christopher, and Christopher was astonished to see that he had the exact same vague look. He gave a little nod. "Hello," he said, "I'm the Doctor. Now, do you mind informing me where I am?"

Hee. Hee. Hee. Hee. cackles malevolently Because ever since I saw the fifth Doctor, I knew that Peter Davison with dyed black hair would be the perfect actor to play Chrestomanci. So I had to make them meet.

I just hope some of you have actually seen the original Doctor Who series, because if not this story won't be nearly so funny. Actually it'll be rather pointless.