The Potter's

So, I don't own Harry Potter or the Chronicles of Narnia...Damn.

Thanks to those who have followed, favored and/or reviewed.

Previously...

Hermione grinned. "That would be brilliant." She then had another question for the 14-year-old. "Also, what's it like learning about Muggle Studies? I was wondering if I should take it during my third year, even though I'm from the muggle world."

Edmund lightly smiled before he started talking about the class. Hermione listened on, completely focused on what he had to say.

Harry and Susan watched from behind. Susan had a knowing smile, while Harry thought nothing of the exchange.

October 1991

Peter was seen in Potions class. For once, they weren't even working on a bloody potion, but learning about one that they were going to make within the next few weeks.

"Do understand the complexity of the Wolfsbane Potion," Snape drawled out as he eyed the class in front of him. There was an odd mixture of seventh years from every house. This year was rather disappointing for Snape considering the lack of seventh-year students who opted towards taking NEWT level Potions. Or rather, the students who failed to reach the requirements for his class. He was particularly disappointed in the fact that there were only three Slytherin's in this group of fifteen students. "It is not a potion that can easily be brewed, nor one that can be tampered with." Eyeing Peter, Snape continued. "Do tell, Potter, what are the effects of an ill-tempered Wolfsbane Potion?"

Looking up from his textbook, Peter frowned. "The potion won't take effect for the person taking it, and it will cause the person to lose control during the full moon."

"And why, Mr. Potter, would the witch or wizard taking the potion to lose control?" Snape questioned. "Particularly during the full moon?" His cold brown eyes met Peter's blasted hazel ones.

"Because the only ones who should be taking the potion suffer from lycanthropy," Peter answered, sounding more confident. "They're werewolves, sir."

Snape nodded, secretly impressed with the young wizard's answer. "Correct, Mr. Potter." He then frowned. "Five points for Gryffindor." It was certainly harder to show favoritism in a class as small as this one, unfortunately.

Harry was seen in the Slytherin common room. He was with Daphne, who was studying while Harry wrote a letter to Slughorn about his time at Hogwarts. He would have been in the library with Lucy and Edmund, but he stayed so Daphne could have some company. She was feeling ill, but with what Harry didn't know. Daphne had told Harry that it wasn't something that he would be able to catch.

"I have to admit it," Daphne said as she looked over at Harry's copy of History of Magic notes, which he had copied from Hermione Granger. "Granger's good." Harry looked at the extremely pale girl, noticing that she didn't appear entirely surprised, nor disgusted. "You know, I sometimes wonder why most pure-bloods hate muggle-borns. I think I have the answer."

Harry looked confused. "And what's your answer exactly?"

Daphne smirked. "They're smarter than the dunderheads who preach about their "pure blood." The girl snorted. "If anything, they're the ones with the least amount of this so-called "pure blood."

Harry smirked. "You've been around Edmund for far too long."

The dark-haired girl shrugged at her friend. "Maybe so, maybe not. Either way, my parents won't be too pleased if they hear me talking about blood statuses. My little sister may find it funny though."

"You have a sister?" Harry asked, surprised to hear. Daphne nodded.

"Astoria," the girl explained. "She's 9 and is a lot like me."

"So she's smart and snarky as well?" Harry asked, grinning.

Daphne gave off a sort of sad smile, something that secretly concerned Harry, but he didn't mention it. "Not so much snarky, but she's certainly smarter than I am."

"So a future Ravenclaw then?"

Daphne snorted. "Please. It seems as though the really smart ones aren't even in that house, no matter how much they proclaim it."

That made Harry laugh. His sister, Susan, was in Ravenclaw, and she was very smart, but probably not as smart as his brother, Edmund, who was in Slytherin. "To each their own."

Daphne nodded.

31 October 1991

It was a little past midnight. All five Potter's, as well as a majority of the school, were asleep in their beds. It was as normal as any night could be, but the same could not be said for the Potter siblings.

The four older Potter's, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy, experienced fits of unbearable dreams that were being systematically thrown at them.

Peter was seen in his bed inside Gryffindor Tower. Cold sweat drowned itself around the teenager as he moved around in his bed.

Edmund was standing in front of Peter. They were on the very same battlefield that both boys had dreamt of before, only it was different this time. Edmund was standing in the place of the boy who normally haunted Peter's dreams. He wasn't wearing the odd-looking armor, but his Hogwarts uniform. He didn't have on his cloak or jumper, and his vest was torn and dirty. His Slytherin tie hung loosely around his neck. He had his wand in one hand, but a sword in another. It was the sword that Peter often dreamt about, one that he would carry.

Peter, for the life of him, wanted to step towards his brother, but for some reason couldn't. It was as though an invisible force was pulling him back every time he tried to move forward.

It wasn't until Peter saw the woman with the lion's mane walking towards Edmund did Peter start to scream.

"EDMUND!" He yelled to his brother, but the name fell on deaf ears. "Ed! Behind you!"

A rare look of confusion crosses Edmund's face. It was then that Peter noticed the dry blood on his brother's face.

He watched in horror as the Lion-Maned Witch walked just inches away from Edmund.

"EDMUND!"

Finally, Edmund seemed to hear him, but it was too late. Peter watched as his brother turned to stone.

Peter yelled out as the Lion-Maned Witch set her eyes on him. She gave him a dangerous smile as her free hand trailed up against Edmund's stone shoulder until it reached the back of his head.

He watched as the witch violently flung her hand forward, and the stone form of Edmund Potter flew into the air and broke into a million pieces as it shattered against the suddenly stone solid ground.

It was then that Peter noticed Susan and Lucy running towards him, did he start to yet again scream.

Peter woke upheaving as he pressed his fist up against his chest, clutching his nightshirt as he looked around wildly. Or as wildly as he can manage, for some bloody reason, he couldn't move.

At the same time, 16-year-old Susan Potter was in her bed. Her beautiful face was twisted and tear-stained as she dreamed deep into the night.

Susan was seen dancing with Caspian. She was wearing a beautiful dark blue dress that suited her perfectly. Her long red hair was pinned up behind her, showing off a pair of dangly earrings that Susan recognized as her mother's. Caspian was wearing a dark suit. His dark hair was neatly combed and he was looking very dashing, almost like a prince. Yes, he was a prince and she was a princess. No, that didn't appear right.

No, not a prince and princess, but a king and queen.

Her siblings were watching, but Susan couldn't make them out as she only kept her eyes on Caspian.

He was whispering in her ear, but she couldn't hear a word that he was saying. It didn't concern her for once. She was with Caspian, this was supposed to be a moment free of any worry. Maybe, she needs to be more relaxed. That sounded nice, maybe Caspian would be able to help with that, and maybe she'd teach him to be a bit more serious.

She laughed as she and Caspian spun each other around. She felt so free, it was breathtaking.

And then suddenly she couldn't breathe.

Stopping almost immediately, Susan grabbed at her throat. Why couldn't she breathe? Why was nobody saying or doing anything? Why was Caspian only standing there?

Rushing forward, Susan grabbed Caspian's hand but shivered back in shock. His hand was no longer warm and soft, but cold and made up of stone.

Turning wildly as she kept her other hand on her throat, all she saw was people completely made up of stone.

She only stopped when she was suddenly face-to-face with a pale-skinned, pointed faced woman. Her icy eyes were horrifying and intoxicating.

Susan screamed.

Susan bolted up in her bed, her hands around her throat as she let out a cry. Her breathing was wild and she could feel herself shaking as she cried.

Edmund was seen in the Slytherin common room, his head was resting on a book he had been reading. He was leaning forward, still dressed in his Slytherin uniform, his entire body was shivering as though he were cold. The profound goosebumps on his skin supported his feeling of discomfort in the sudden climate change.

He was tied to a tree, he was standing. The woman that often haunted his dreams was just inches away from his face. Her pale hair was wild and tied behind her. Her clothes were impeccably white and shimmery, even though they were in the deep woods of nowhere. Her icy eyes made him involuntarily shiver every time they met his wary hazel ones.

A cloth was wrapped tightly around his mouth. He couldn't say anything as the Ice Witch touched his cheek with her icy cold hand.

He cries out, he can feel hot tears running down his face, but he doesn't know why. This woman has always scared him, but those were dreams. Dreams didn't feel as real as this one did.

The Ice Witch makes a shushing sound. "Shh, Edmund. Soon, it will all be over." A menacing glint in her eye has Edmund frozen in shock as she suddenly grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls."Soon it will all be over and you and I will start the real fun, won't we?"

The Ice Witch lets go of Edmund's hair, but her hand remains on his face as she tenderly wipes his tears. No, she doesn't just wipe the tears, she turns them into ice and plucks one from his cheek.

The Ice witch examines the thin icicle in her pale, thin hands before looking at Edmund. "And your brothers and sisters will all pay, won't they?" The icicle is suddenly moving towards his right eye.

Edmund bolts out of his chair and lands on the cold stone ground. He's holding both hands over his right eye as he suppresses his desire to scream out in pain. He can feel the blood dripping down his hand and arms as he holds himself on the ground, shivering.

Lucy was in her bed. Trashing around wildly, the girl had fresh rounds of tears running down her terrified face.

She was in the middle of the woods. She watched as the dancing trees around her suddenly stood still. The bright light of the sun started to dim and Lucy felt a chill run up her spine.

A dead lion was nearby. Or what she assumed was a lion. It was hard to tell without its mane.

Slowly, the girl made her way towards the dead lion. It was surrounded in its pool of blood. She knew this lion, she knew exactly who this lion was, but for some reason, his name could not escape past her lips. Of all the times, it had to be now for her not to remember something.

She knelt beside the dead lion, lightly stroking its bloodstained face. She silently cried as she continued to stroke the lion.

She heard the footsteps before she saw the witch. Ice trailed behind her like a veil, her face contorted with malicious glee. Lucy wanted to scream, but it was suddenly too cold around her. Her body felt cold, and her breath could be seen vividly. Her eyes widened with fear as the Ice Witch walked closer and closer to Lucy and the lion.

No, she wasn't called the Ice Witch. That didn't sound right. Not right at all.

She could hear screaming. Her head turned wildly, her eyes even wider now than they had originally been.

"LUCY!"

"LUCY!"

She recognized the voice, but she couldn't call back. Her voice was caught and stolen by an icy rope that was being pulled by a...by a...

Lucy sat right up, her eyes as wild as her hair as she let out a single name of horror.

"White...Witch." She meant to scream it out, but all that came was a whisper and the feeling of unshed terror and coldness that up until this point was completely foreign to Lucy.

She, after all, only experienced good dreams.

Harry Potter was excited about Hallowe'en. He was the only one of his siblings that remotely enjoyed the spooky holiday. He knew their reason for disliking the day, but Harry tried to push past that. He mourns for his parents every Hallowe'en as much as his siblings do, but he also finds enjoyment in the tricks and treats that come with the day.

He finds his siblings all at Edmund's normal table in the library. They all look restless and jumpy, even Lucy, who looks as though she's been crying all day. A guarded look is on Peter's face, while Susan looks even more stressed out than usual, and Edmund looks like he's one second away from bolting out of the library in fear.

Suddenly, their eyes were all on him.

Before he could even think, he gave them a semi-worried smile. "Er...Happy Hallowe'en?"

So, what do you think?

This is like a day late, so I'm sorry about that.

I know there might be some mistakes, so I apologize.

Please, review, like, and/or follow. That would be great.

Until next time...

Review(s):

Blackdrake: Thanks for the review. Sorry that his class was a bit disappointing, I was going to write about it, but I was nervous about writing it for some reason. I didn't want to go full-on canon with it, but I didn't want to stray from it and I eventually just decided to not write it. I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but yeah. And Ginny and Luna would be pretty interesting, wouldn't they?