A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for reading. Just so you know: this fic is based entirely on the books, so if you have only seen the movies, I recommend you go read them, otherwise you might find yourself rather confused. Anyway, I hope that you like it, and that we continue on this journey together for a long time to come.

The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters are not mine, they belong to the Clive Staples Lewis estate.


Chapter 1: The Pevensies Return


Four children came tumbling out of an old wooden wardrobe and now sat on the floor, looking about bewilderedly. They looked quite ordinary now, in their skirts and sweaters and uncomfortable stiff collars, and one should have thought them to be quite as ordinary as their appearances suggested, until the older girl spoke, slowly rising from the floor, "What is this place? It does seem most curious." She looked about the room, then down at her clothes, running her hands down her torso in horrified wonder, "I do believe… I am a child." She looked at the older, tow-headed boy, "Brother, what make you of this?"

He shook his head, opening his mouth to answer, when the younger boy suddenly jumped to his feet, speaking in an alarmed whisper, "By your leave, my royal brother and sisters, I must beg silence!" Slowly, one hand held out protectively behind him, he crept towards the heavy oak door, "Dost thou hear voices?"

The four listened with bated breath, and indeed there came a woman's voice, high and unpleasant, proud as a peacock, as though she herself owned the house she was showing, "Yes, indeed. The house was renovated late in the last century, the… eighties, I believe, to serve as the residence of my employer Digory Kirk." Pause. "No, I am afraid you may not see him. He takes few visitors. Anyhow, if we move on down the hall…" The voices faded out of earshot.

And almost simultaneously they remembered the curious sequence of events that had taken them from here originally, and realized where it was that they were. For indeed, these were the Pevensies, long since grown into Kings and Queens of fine estate, and now returned by the wardrobe in the very hour they had left.

"Sir," said the little girl to King Edmund, inching forward worriedly, "Do you think ist possible? Could we be in England?" Queen Lucy, stoic and brave in the face of a hundred battles, looked confused and almost ready to cry.

It was the other boy who answered, "I-" The High King stopped, hand to his throat, as his voice emitted at a very different octave from that at which it had been a few minutes before. Clearing his throat, he continued, "I fear it may well be, Madame, for I believe that I now remember this room, and indeed yon wardrobe. I think it to be that very one which brought us to Narnia when we were but children."

As he said this Queen Susan continued to stare at her surroundings in shock, before springing into the wardrobe to beat at the back, "No, no! Take me back! You cannot do this! Take me back!" Peter rushed in, embracing and dragging the golden-haired girl away to the floor, where she lay in his arms, sobbing, "Courage, dear sister. We shall find a way back home soon, I swear it." She only continued to cry, although no one could get her to say the cause of her distress. Finally she ran from the room, and being unable to find a couch or bed in that half-empty house, she curled up in a corner in an abandoned room and wept there until she could no longer stand coughing from the dust balls.

The other three were left alone. Edmund was the next to speak, "It would seem to me that we should begin our search ere long."

Lucy nodded, "We are in agreement, brother."

"And to that end, I say we find the owner of this house and yon… most remarkable furniture, for in all likelihood he knows something of note."

Peter looked over at it, "Indeed. How he came to own such an item must be quite a tale."

The little girl once more spoke, "Perhaps he is an exile, like us." They were silent after that, the word exile settling over them. It had such a finalistic knell to it. Somberly they exited the room, Peter's hand comfortingly rested on his sister's shoulder, the three huddled together for security in the face of a strange and alien land.


They walked the halls cautiously, the boys' right hands held habitually ready near their hips, until Lucy pointed out that, given that they had no swords, the motion was rather pointless. At her reminder the pair blushed, noticing what they were doing, proceeding to fidget awkwardly before continuing down the dark, musty passage.

Peter's face had been screwed up in thought, and he suddenly turned to the others, "Professor Kirke!"

The others appeared confused, their distant memories still slowly working their way to the surface of their brains, "To whom do you refer?"

He spoke excitedly, "Our great-uncle! Fie, thou remembrest him not? We were sent here to him to protect us from the bombings! He is the one we must seek."

They agreed with him, continuing down the hall. Lucy, however, trailed behind, looking confused and muttering to herself, "Whatever is a 'bombing?'"

They at length found the old man, sitting in his study, reading a book. The trio paused as they entered, looking about them with wondering eyes, still having to remind themselves of each item's name.

Professor Kirke peeked over the top of his cloudy beard at the intrusion, pushing his glasses lower on his nose to get a better look. Noticing his attention, the children bowed and curtsied, and Peter spoke, "My Lord. 'Tis well to meet thee, after so long. How fare you this day?"

If the old man thought their behavior was a bit odd, he didn't show it. He smiled, "I 'fare' quite as well as I did." His brow scrunched up in knowing confusion, "But I saw you only a few hours ago. What could have possibly changed since then?" He paused, "You haven't broken something, have you?"

Queen Lucy could no longer stand the suspense. "Where did you obtain that wardrobe?" She blurted out.

He paused, removing his glasses and setting his book on the table beside him, "Oh, nowhere. Just a silly thing I picked up ages ago." He smiled wistfully, standing to peruse the shelves, "It was given to me by a most remarkable individual."

The younger boy spoke up, "Please, sir, we must know. 'Tis most cruel of you not to tell us."

"Cruel? Cruel? You appear to have most odd definition of 'cruel,' young man." He turned to them, eyeing them with a piercing expression, "Why do you want to know?" He paused, "Did you have another adventure?"

They were silent, studying the floor. Finally Edmund responded, "Indeed we have, sir."

The group descended once more into silence. Finally the old man spoke, "What was Narnia like?" He asked, an odd, longing look tempering the sparkle of his old eyes.

Peter responded, "It is a fine country, rich and fair, though it was not so when we found it."

The Professor looked sharply up, subtlety yet clearly alarmed, "What do you mean?"

Lucy spoke up, "When we first came there it was ruled over by a most wicked queen, a giantess called Jadis who had placed a dreadful curse over all the land, whereby it was always winter, from the furthest reaches of the Northern Wastes down almost to the border of Calormen. However she was defeated many years ago."

Professor Kirke seemed visibly shaken, and Peter spoke concernedly, "Sir, are you quite well?"

The old man waved a hand dismissively, "Yes, yes, I'm fine. I just… need to be alone for a while. Why don't you all go play? It is a most beautiful day outside, much too beautiful for young people to spend in a dusty old house like this. Go on, go on."

The trio hesitantly departed the room, Peter bowing automatically before turning and following the others.

Digory stared into space, tears lightly dusting his eyes, "By the Lion… Jadis." His face sank into his hands as he spoke, "What have I done? Oh Aslan, what have I done?"