Chapter 7: The Prophecy
A/N: Hey y'all! It's been a while and this chapter was a beast to write in terms of setting up plot for the second half of the story. We are now beginning to deviate from Prince Caspian's plot dirastically. I'm in OG territory so bear with me as the next few chapters may come more slowly! Happy New Year, and happy reading!
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The morning progressed as all the others had so far. With the thick morning fog giving way to the glorious sunshine of Narnia at the summer's highest. The rocky terrain that their little convoy hiked through the last few days began to give way to hilled forests rolling with trees as tall as cathedral spires and feathered ferns greener than Hermione had ever seen before.
Edmund gradually relaxed as the morning went on. Hermione kept a careful eye on him even as she and Harry hung toward the back of their travelling party. He walked alongside the sagely badger who spoke earlier of unity in the face of a shared enemy. He and Edmund were at the beginning of what sounded like a lively debate.
"Say Hermione," asked Harry as they waded through the ferns. His voice was light and playful.
"What is it Harry?" she replied with a slight note of exasperation.
"What houses do you suppose they'd be in, the Pevensies?"
She raised an eyebrow in response, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Hadn't given it much thought really."
"I'd wager Peter's a Gryffindor, hands down." Harry said with a grin.
Hermione smiled, catching on to his game. Evasion, ever his and Ronald's tactic to alleviate stress (often brought on by not finishing their homework). Not a very effective strategy if you asked her. "I don't know about that. I'd say Lucy's the real Gryffindor. After all, she was the one to discover Narnia. There's something about her that's absolutely fearless. Peter…he's got to be a Hufflepuff."
In some respects, Peter's demeanor occasionally reminded her of Cedric. His dedication to his family, and determination to find the Narnians. Peter had a big heart. He was a leader, yes, but by necessity, and order of birth. Not because he'd chosen it. In that respect he wasn't unlike Harry.
"Nah, I still think he's a lion." Said Harry, "But I see your point on Lucy."
"What do you think of Edmund?" Hermione asked tentatively. It was Harry's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Clearly I'm not the only one with my eye on a Pevensie," Harry teased. "I saw the way you calmed him down earlier." Hermione felt her cheeks pink ever so slightly.
"I was just trying to help," she mumbled, "It's no different than you were this summer Harry and you know it." She said forgetting their game in favor of deflecting the comment as well as trying to keep a lid on those accumulating thoughts about Edmund.
"You think I've got Pt-whatsit?" asked Harry, his tone flat and inquiring.
"Post Traumatic Stress." Hermione answered automatically. She side-eyed Harry, who looked rather irked at her comment. "Sorry, know-it-all moment. I can see it on your face." Harry sighed and sent her a small smile. "It's quite ridiculous that the wizarding world can re-grow a bone in twenty-four hours or cure the common cold with a bit of pepper-up and yet know so little of the human brain, don't you think? Poor old Mad-Eye may be a little less mad if the Ministry required mental health assessments and counseling." She said.
Harry nodded, rather begrudgingly, but it was further than she'd got with him over the summer. "I like Edmund…" Harry said, "but what happened earlier…what did happen earlier Hermione? We woke up and you, Lucy and Peter were nowhere to be seen. And when we arrived all hell seemed to break loose with Edmund…that doesn't seem safe, Hermione."
Hermione sighed. She severely regretted wandering off, and even though she knew it wasn't her fault that Edmund had an episode, it didn't make her feel any less responsible.
"I…I had a strange dream…and woke up really bothered."
"So, you thought you'd take a walk through an unknown wood; when you knew wild animals and Telmarines could be around?"
She sighed again and rubbed at her temples. "The minotaur caught me by surprise. And then Caspian showed up and that dwarf, Nickabrick, started claiming I was a spy from Miraz. Then in the next second Peter jumped out with his sword drawn, which startled the minotaur, who grabbed me. Then Caspian and Peter fought. That's when the other Narnians came and then Lucy, of all people worked out what was happening and stopped them from trying to kill each other. You lot came seconds later, and well…you know the rest."
"Blimey," Harry muttered.
"Honestly, I don't really think anything much about this place is safe," countered Hermione, who'd been quite stunned at the violence the Pevensie brothers were capable of. "Including the Pevensies…" She added as she let her gaze trail from Harry to Edmund's shadowed form up ahead. "But…there is something wonderfully good about Narnia. I just can't put my finger on it. She may be a little savage, but that's the wonder of it, I think. Everything here is wild and so very…alive?"
"Well, I'd have to agree with you on that," said Harry, following her gaze ahead to the other Narnians. "Look, I think he's a good bloke at his core. He does seem a bit haunted though, and rather closed off. He's got a wicked sense of humor I'd wager. Seemed to get a kick out of me pretending to be him back at the beach that first day. Just…be careful alright? I don't…" Harry scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. "I don't want to see you get hurt, that's all."
Hermione grinned a little at the irony of their continued apparent role-reversal. "How's that sentence taste in your mouth?" she asked cheekily.
"Terrible." Harry laughed, dropping his hand. His eyes filled with mirth. "We don't give you enough credit, Ron and I." he laughed a little more and slung an arm over her shoulder. Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled. She really was undeniably thankful that Harry grabbed on the second her time-turner started going mad.
The trees had drastically thinned out in the course of their morning trek. Up ahead, Hermione could make out a great mound of moss-covered stone. She stopped walking, struck by the size and the energy pulsing from the place. Old magic abided here. She could feel it singing in her blood. She forced her feet to unstick from where they stood rooted to the ground.
Laughter and cheerful chatter could be heard the closer they drew. A huge rolling field opened before them: swathed in green, peppered by yellow and white flowers. Almost equidistant from the how and the edge of the woods from which their party emerged, was an ancient slab of flagstone. From it rose massive carved pillars and an archway with strange symbols etched all around. It reminded her of visiting Stone Henge as a child with her parents. She'd been struck by awe then too.
As their crew drew nearer, she saw that on the far side was a pathway down into the entrance of the massive structure. Lined along the entrance on both sides stood a guard of armed centaurs. Hermione thought again of how beautiful and untamed Narnia seemed, every living creature pulsed with life and a magic much deeper than she understood. The Pevensies stopped, straight-backed and stoic, they waited. For what? Hermione wondered. Her spine tingled in anticipation. The stones trembled beneath her, ever so slightly. Even the ground held the steps of their sovereigns in its memory. What was this place?
"To Attention!" bellowed a centaur from behind her. The guard stepped up and all drew their swords in sync holding them loftily above in a salute to their returned kings and queens of old. The four Pevensies surged forward as one, leaving Caspian, Harry and Hermione in their wake.
Caspian's shoulders drooped as he fell back, following them at a distance. Hermione's heart clenched. What must it feel like for him to live in the shadow of their legacy? Even she felt like a small and insignificant outsider, barely privileged or worthy to trail their footsteps. She fought against the urge to shrink in on herself. To scrounge up a book and disappear into the trees, safe from becoming a disappointment to them or from the waging tongues of other Narnians, who would doubtlessly wonder what the hell Hermione Granger thought she was doing hanging off the coattails of royalty.
Harry reached out and touched her shoulder. She snapped out of her self-deprecating thoughts, and glued her eyes to her best friend. "Come on," he whispered, inclining his head toward the entrance. She swallowed her fear and they followed on behind Caspian, the other Narnians filing in after them.
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The second they stepped into the main chamber Hermione was hit with a wave of stifling heat. The Old Narnians had converted the space into a forge. The clang and bang of weapons being hammered echoed off the chamber walls. There were Narnians everywhere. Caspian stopped to talk to a faun who was updating him on the number of arrow heads they'd finished that morning.
"Queen Susan will be pleased." Caspian replied with a nod. "Have you inspected the bows we acquired the other night?"
Hermione's attention was drawn away from the conversation. She jumped as a large leopard brushed past her, it's tail flicking against her calf. Harry was being led off by a dwarf who was apparently unsatisfied with the way some of Harry's armor fit him and was determined to adjust it to the young man's frame.
"It may not be what you expected, but it is defensible," said Caspian to Peter and Edmund who were a fair way off from her, but not yet out of hearing range.
"Peter!" called Susan's voice. She peaked around the corner searching for her elder brother. "You may want to see this." She turned on her heel. By the tone of her voice Hermione surmised that it was serious. She stepped forward to follow but was halted by a tug on her skirts. She glanced down. The wise badger from earlier was standing at her side gazing up at her curiously.
"You are our Lady Gryffindor!" he exclaimed.
"I—what?" Hermione asked startled by the title. Maybe she'd misheard. "No, I'm—"
Trufflehunter shook his whiskery head. "We Badgers remember; we do! You are even his likeness! My lady tis a great honor," he said with a short bow.
"Fair thee well, Trufflehunter." Rumbled a deep voice from behind her. A centaur with a coat of the darkest brown she'd ever seen clopped up to them. It reminded her of the potting soil she and her mother filled the summer planters with. He towered above her and had a wild mane that hung down his back and past his shoulders. He wore a large broadsword at his side. Hermione recognized him as the centaur that met them in the woods with Caspian earlier.
"General Glenstorm," bowed Trufflehunter as he shuffled off to catch up with Trumpkin. Once he was out of hearing distance, Glenstorm spoke again.
"If you'll follow me, your ladyship, there is something I wish to show you." He stood at attention waiting for her response. Hermione cast another look about the forge, searching for a familiar face. Her party had scattered, getting on with their business as she supposed she must with hers, whatever that may be. She turned back to Glenstorm and nodded her assent. He grabbed a lit torch and gestured for her to follow him.
"When the Pevensie children entered into Narnian for the first time," he began as they walked along a less populated corner of the How. He turned and disappeared behind a cleft in the rock that Hermione hadn't seen before. Hermione nearly stopped him as the space looked too small for the large form of a centaur to pass through. There was a sound like stone scraping along the ground. She followed Glenstorm into the passage, eager to learn more of Narnia's history now that it appeared, she and Harry were along for the long haul.
"This land was trapped within a hundred-year winter, by an ancient witch, of another realm, who fancied herself Queen of Narnia." Hermione unexpectedly flinched as Glenstorm made mention of the witch. "She had no right to the throne; it was already governed by Aslan's elected sovereign. A war broke out and she slaughtered thousands of Narnians, along with the rightful heir, the last living descendant of our first King Frank and his Queen Helen." Glenstorm began. Such British names, but Hermione thought little of it beyond that.
Glenstorm lifted the torch along the wall, lighting up depictions of an ancient tomb covered in white lilies. A towering ice castle nestled in mountainous hills, a frozen throne, and woman in white, with lips like blood. Hermione followed silently behind him, completely entranced by his tale. He paused at a carving of what looked like a London lamppost, the kind that used to be lit by flame instead of electricity, glowing dimly in a small clearing at the center of a snowy wood. She frowned, that was rather out of place.
"It was by the Deep Magic of Narnia that we learned that two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve would come to Narnia to end the Great Winter, destroy the witch, and restore King Frank's line of succession with Aslan's help. And come, our High King did." Glenstorm paused and looked at Hermione, a thoughtful expression on his face, then his stoicism returned. "Not long after their arrival, a great battle was fought on the fields of Beruna. The witch was overthrown and the Pevensies crowned at Cair Paravel a week later. They reigned for fifteen years before disappearing into the Wild Western Wood from which they first emerged."
Hermione nodded as he showed her a depiction of the four young sovereigns in their robes and crowns at Cair Paravel. He led her further into the chamber. They passed more murals, some of them were faded and lost to time. At last, Glenstorm stopped at a picture of a great white stag running through a gnarled wood. Hermione reached out and traced the lines with her fingertips, instantly thinking of Harry's Patronus.
His story was consistent with the one shared by the Pevensies. She couldn't help but feel that much had been left out of their tale though. It was the same way she knew how to calm Edmund, and the way she knew that Aslan's How was ancient, and that the earth here had memory. Instinct. Or perhaps magic? It trembled beneath Peter's footsteps. The air around Lucy shifted as if parting a great veil, and the sun dazzled off of Susan, one with her. Hermione knew they were telling the truth. Any final doubt she harbored faded away.
"The only thing," she began, "that I don't understand is…why tell me all of this? What does it matter to Narnia, that I know, beyond a shred of doubt that what you say is true?"
"Because, there was a second half of the prophecy revealed toward then end of the Golden Age." Hermione frowned, not liking where Glenstorm was leading her. "Few Narnians knew of it and today even fewer remember. One year after our sovereigns' disappearance, Cair Paravel fell to the Telmarine armies. Eighteen years later, the rest of Narnia followed. Only the kingdom of Archenland answered Narnia's call for aid, but their losses were heavy as well.
Hermione's heart pounded in her chest. "So, it's as we thought. Cair Paravel didn't just crumble with time…" she stated thinking back to her first conversation with Edmund. "He found the catapults." She said to Glenstorm.
"So, the legend goes," continued Glenstorm with a short nod, he was still the absolute picture of stoicism, "That Narnia's additional protection put in place by the Great Lion Aslan broke down that day. There were stories of a young knight who made off with a terrible weapon never meant to leave Narnia." Glenstorm's voice changed and Hermione got the distinct impression that he was reciting only a snip-it of what he knew. "There were other worlds to save, thought he, brave Geradric of the Gryffin's Door." Hermione stiffened at his words, feeling as though the blood had momentarily frozen in her veins. It was the second time the name of Gryffindor was uttered in her presence that day.
"He took up his sword and into that great chasm he ventured, through tunnels of time and space to a destiny beyond this world's reach. He took with him what was forbidden, a great evil, held in check by Aslan's Table, and so undoing the protection of the Narnian throne. Godric's pride brought the Golden Age to a ruinous end, so his cubs shall bring about her restoration."
Hermione's jaw hung slack. "I don't understand…Geradric, as in Godric Gryffindor, one of the founders of my school? He's Narnian?" Suddenly feeling very woozy at the implications, Hermione threw out a hand against the warm stone to steady herself. She could feel the grooved lines of the mural beneath her fingertips. The paint had been preserved for thirteen hundred years…aching, locked in silence, waiting for her?
If Glenstorm was surprised at how fast she'd made the connection, he didn't show it, nor did he deny her conclusion.
"And you think that I'm the one…this cub? This is madness. I'm bloody Dorothy Gale in Oz." She muttered to herself. "But…wait, no…you said the second half of the prophecy was lesser known and then lost!" She declared. "The chances of it being me are slim to none! How can you be sure that it's me, and not Harry? Or someone else for that matter?" She enquired wildly, her hands gesticulating through the air about her.
Glenstorm's gaze fell to her necklace which had escaped the confines of her cloak once more. Blasted thing. The small glass orb hadn't looked out of the ordinary all day, but now it was glowing even brighter than last night when Harry gave it to her. She froze mid-rant, gazing down at the necklace.
"It wasn't ever lost, just in the hands of a different seer, outside of our time and our world." He said. Glenstorm's voice resonated off the chamber walls, piercing her with the truth she'd been trying to deny all morning.
"Cedric…" she whispered, as shock coursed through her system.
Glenstorm nodded.
Hermione clasped the small orb in her hand. It warmed to her touch, and if possible shown even brighter. Cedric's voice, strong, but uncertain pierced the silence of the chamber tripping over unfamiliar words and phrases until he gained confidence as he spoke:
"When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sit at Cair Paravel enthroned
the evil time will be over and gone. Narnia shall have her sword and shield,
her sovereigns armed with the Great Lion's gifts,
and the four will wield them with nobility, gentleness, wisdom, and courage.
For when Aslan bares his teeth, Winter meets its death.
When he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again."
Hermione's eyes widened, that was the very verse that Peter and Lucy recited in the treasure chamber on their first day Narnia. It was etched into his sword, and into the younger queen's memory.
"By his blood, a traitor is spared and Death itself turns backwards.
They did not speak of that sin. A way out was made for him.
But in the Silver King ran shards of vengeful ice.
His past is frozen; a dark connection most horrid
Mirrored only in one other; his experience, torrid
Both locked in stone and unable to flow toward the Lion's light.
The future is bright they said, but where the anointed once led,
The Telmarine broke in bringing only darkness and dread.
Held at bay for eighteen years until the sacrifice was shrowded.
Stolen and dragged through time. That fearful blade hid within the crevices of death.
Cair Paravel has fallen, her sovereigns lost to the labyrinth of Lantern Waste
One day to return and reverse this darkest unleashed curse: a thousand years of silence.
In the absence of light, darkness…gathers to darkness…for it knows nothing of balance
Until at Aslan's Table, held in check once more, it brings the end of night.
From the earth she will rise, a sprig of Geradric's root; his pride, his princess,
And rise on the wings of dawn, to bending song, through turning time.
The Chosen Ones, the children of the stars, bearing their parent's scars
With ancient Kings and Queens in tow; they'll break the final snow."
The light from her necklace dimmed and the chamber fell silent. Hermione's hand still rested against the stone of the mural, the other placed over her heart. Geradric's root? Godric's root. They said she was the Brightest of their Age. A mudblood, was Gryffindor's Princess. That's what they called her from the very beginning. It was teasing. It was cruel. But it was true. Others said it reverently, with a smile. Like they knew she was destined for more than they could see. Hagrid, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Sirius even…
Her hands started to shake. It couldn't be true. It was true. Her very name meant 'Well born, stone of the earth.' That's what her father told her. That he knew she was his special little sparrow and that she'd need to be strong for the life ahead of her. God, she missed her father. What would he think of this glorious magical mess her life had become? Had he known she was magical?
"I…I think I need to…fresh air." She stuttered. It wasn't her nature to be rendered speechless. Challenges lit the fire in her, but this…it was overwhelming.
Glenstorm nodded. He remained stoic, but his eyes softened. He led her back the way they came, to the forge where she'd diverted from Harry and the others. The second Glenstorm was out of her sight, she bolted for the entrance of the How.
oOoOo
She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to hide. The wood was dangerous, so was being out in the open field for too long. Her gaze fell to the stone structure of pillars they passed through on their way to the How that morning. Just underneath the arch, she found a space between the pillar and a broken slab. She wedged herself between them and pulled her knees to her chest. She didn't cry, she wasn't sad. She was absolutely confused though.
She pulled in deep breaths of the summer air. Trying to calm her frantic and scrambled mind. Without thinking Hermione plunged her hand into her bag. She sought an escape. A book. Surely, she had one with her, she always did. Instead, her hand closed around the carved birch box Edmund gave her, the one with the sparrow on it. She pulled it out. Her fingers swept over the groves of the sparrow's tail feathers.
She reached behind her neck to untangle her hair from her heavily weighed down necklace chain. To this point she'd kept her time-turner close. "to bending song, through turning time." She muttered to herself. "Bending song…Susan's horn." That's how Caspian called them. She overheard him explaining to Susan along the way to the how. She didn't dare twist the hourglass of the time-turner, not now. She was beginning to suspect that what happened on the platform was no accident. She sighed and tugged it off the white-gold chain, which now only held Cedric's glass orb.
Deciding that she needed to stash the time turner somewhere to keep it safe, Hermione slid the vine-carved panel at the base of the birch box from Edmund. Something clicked softly. The inlaid circular sparrow carving on the top of the box twisted at a forty-five-degree angle and the lid came loose. Hermione released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and propped the lid open.
She gasped at the pendant nestled inside. He said it matched the ring she wore on her left pinky finger now. It didn't exactly match, but they were definitely part of a set. She was surprised at the strands of gold that seemed to emit from the center stone. She'd never seen anything like it. At any given moment, the stone flashed from scarlet, to gold, to luminous white. It looked like liquid fire, trapped in amber. There was no other way to describe it. The stone was set into delicately sculpted threads of golden birch leaves that twisted around the edge of it, holding it in place. The whole pendant hung on a long fine gold chain. Her fingertips grazed the surface of the stone, plucking it from the velvet.
She frowned. This was no ordinary necklace. It looked like a commissioned piece. And despite the fact it sat in a vaulted treasure chamber for over a thousand years, it looked brand new. There were no dings or scratches that came from a piece of jewelry well-worn. It was clean, no finger smudges but her own imprinted on the gem stone. Why had Edmund given this to her? It could probably pay off all of her school debt with enough left over to buy out Flourish and Blotts.
She replaced the pendant with her time-turner and the box clicked shut once more. She tucked it back inside of her bag. She curled her fingers around it and without thinking twice, draped the excessively long chain around her neck. With it clasped, the necklace rested just below her sternum. It warmed to her touch, but unlike Cedric's orb, it continued to give off heat even after she let go.
All at once she calmed, and her jumbled thoughts began to sort themselves out.
This was how Lucy found her a half hour later. The young queen was silent in her approach. She sat down on the hard stone ground directly across from Hermione. Her rusty-red skirts splayed about her. Her eyes automatically fell to the pendant.
"It's beautiful. He only ever told me about it." She swiped an errant strand of hair out of her face and silently passed Hermione a small bouquet of wildflowers, she'd clearly just gathered them. Hermione had never seen these flowers before. Some were violet, others were white. The smell that came off them was like jasmine. Some of the tension in her body released.
Lucy smiled, but said nothing else.
Hermione sighed and accepted the bouquet. "How'd you find me?"
"I know this place." Lucy replied with a shrug. "Though it's different than I remember. The wood wasn't so grown up, and Aslan's How hadn't been built yet. You used to be able to see over the ridge to the sea as far as Cair Paravel. The wood has grown thick. I suspect Edmund's pleased about that though."
"Why would that please him?" asked Hermione softly.
"He has a sort of affinity for the trees. He's never been able to keep himself out of the wood." Lucy said wistfully. "There was this tree at Professor Kirke's house—"
"-Professor Kirke?"
"He owned the Wardrobe. We lived with him for two and half years during the start of the war. I suspect Mother will send us back to him after the school year. But goodness knows when that will be. We may have forgotten about them by the time we go back." Said Lucy. Hermione frowned. How could one forget their mother? "But anyway," continued Lucy. "If you couldn't find Edmund in the library, he was usually in the big cherry tree of the garden, reading." Lucy smiled brightly. "That's how I knew to find you."
Hermione was sure that she wore her befuddlement on her face, but she nodded accepting Lucy's explanation for what it was. "Where is he now?"
"Oh, he went for a ride. First chance he's had since last summer. I think he's missing Philip."
"Philip?" asked Hermione.
"One of his best friends, or his horse. Philip used to joke that Edmund was his human." Lucy laughed. "We never were sure what was truer. They were very dear friends. Whenever Ed used to get too stressed, he and Philip would go ride. Sometimes they'd be away for hours on end. No idea what he did with that time, but I think he used to talk to Philip sometimes when he couldn't speak with us. Ed was always like that."
"Closed off?"
Lucy's head quirked to the side as she considered the inquiry, "Selective."
Lucy paused, her gaze transferring to the large arch above them. Hermione could tell she was seriously weighing what to say next. The young girl seemed to be seeking permission, waiting for an answer from someone no one but herself could hear. The breeze ruffled their hair. She turned back to Hermione.
"After the Battle at Beruna, he was just…quieter, graver you could say. By far the most serious of us all, which was rather a huge adjustment for the rest of us. Mind you, he does have a relaxed side and a rather mischievous streak, but it…wore away as he got older. Something hollowed him out." Lucy finished darkly. Her eyes flashed, and for a moment, Hermione glimpsed at something that she could only describe as…vicious…behind the queen's eyes.
Hermione fell quiet. Her thoughts wandered back to Cedric's prophecy, she turned each word over in her mind.
"Lucy?" Hermione inquired, suddenly having the strangest sense that if anyone could help her untangle Narnia's mysteries it would be her.
"Hmm?" replied the girl as she returned her attention to Hermione.
"When you first came to Narnia, did you know you were going to become a queen? And when you did find out, what made you decide to accept the position being bestowed upon you and your siblings? Why'd you stay to help the Narnians? You could have just walked away from it all."
"Except that we couldn't walk away." Lucy said, "Not really." Her eyes were wide as she spoke, earnest and absolute. "We could have left yes…but we all knew better."
Hermione didn't interrupt her train of thought.
"And I think, that I'd already decided to stay. Edmund's disappearance was only the final nail in the coffin so to speak…"
"-He disappeared?"
Lucy's mouth snapped shut as if she'd said too much. Then she went on as if nothing had been said at all. She did it so quickly and smoothly, one would have thought she'd done that sort of thing her whole life. Hermione supposed you had the right to not answer to anyone, if the highest authority was you. But that wasn't the case here. The Pevensies kneeled under an authority that she didn't understand.
"A person makes choices about what is in front of them, not about what lays beyond them." Said Lucy sagely. "Susan wanted to go back the second we all finally stepped through the wardrobe. She was afraid. Edmund didn't trust anyone we met here. He was afraid too. Peter wanted to protect us, and only stayed because they'd all wronged me and he knew it. It was his way of making peace. That's always been Pete, the peace-maker. He compromised, because it was right, but he was scared of losing us all."
Hermione nodded, suddenly understanding. If Edmund went missing, then they made the choice in front of them: to not leave their brother behind.
"I think it was Aslan that drew us out of the wardrobe," continued Lucy. "He let Edmund wander further, because it was going to be the only thing that would change his heart. The rest of us followed suit. Because that was the only way to change ours. I always thought that Ed was the most blessed among us." Lucy trailed off. "Aslan brought us here, just like he brought you. Edmund kept us here. And I've a feeling that he's the one keeping you here too." Hermione flinched as Lucy laid the truth out so plainly before her.
"I'm not so sure about that."
"Yes, you are." Said Lucy, cutting straight through Hermione's lie. "You're just afraid." Lucy leaned in closely so that Hermione could hear her whisper, "But Aslan is always on the move."
The moment the words left her lips, Hermione was overcome with the most peculiar feeling. It was as if fire from the deepest crevices of the earth had twisted its way through the ground and grabbed hold of her ankles, shooting up like a root, reaching for the sunlight, pulling in it's energy so that it's leaves could unfurl in their fullest splendor.
Hermione wanted to be that root. She was tired of waiting in the dark. Waiting to be seen, waiting to be appreciated for her strengths, not ridiculed for her incompetency. She was sick of waiting for the approval of her peers, the pride of her professors, the acceptance of the Pure Bloods and the wizarding world. She was more than that.
Cedric had been the first to see her as she was. To push her to stop letting what others thought of her to dictate her every choice. And Hermione had a choice before her. She couldn't see what was beyond, and no one could tell her what to do.
She could feel Lucy's eyes on her, the brightness of her blue hues sparkled vibrantly like the shimmer of sun upon the ocean waves. Blinding. A momentary glimpse of someone all-knowing shown through her. The young queen cracked a toothy grin and Hermione was surprised to that her teeth were not sharp as daggers, cutting as cleanly through Hermione as her words.
Something in Hermione crackled to life; it consumed the hardened shell around her heart…she couldn't describe it but that she wanted to scream; roar even at all the things and people, and cruel words that entrapped her over time. Lucy's grin faded.
"Well," asked the queen expectantly, "What has the earth said?" Lucy's voice was like a wave pulling away from the shore all the shards of Hermione's insecurities as sand to be scattered to the vast unknown waters.
Hermione closed her eyes. Her fingers tugged at the thin strands of grass beneath them scraping and uprooting the blades of green from the warm earth below. "That it's time to break the ground and grow in the sunlight."
"And the moon and in the starlight," added Lucy with a fading smile. "Even above ground there are storms and dark nights to weather. It is how we become steadfast."
oOoOo
A/N: And in keeping with mine and Lewis' Christian worldview, the verse that heavily inspired this last scene comes from Revelation 1:15-17. "…and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and coming out of his mouth was a sharp double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: "Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last."
Some thoughts on characterization: I like the idea of the Pevensies all having a connectedness to Narnia that is otherworldly and sometimes they may seem a little harsh and a little wild, but are most definitely good. Lewis writes often about how the Narnian air changes them. I like to think that Lucy was the most likely to speak on Aslan's behalf. Her conversation with Hermione shows the part her wildness that makes her "braver than a lioness." In my version of Narnia this partially comes from her ability to become Aslan's mouth-piece. I chose their arrival at Aslan's How for this concept to begin to become apparent to Harry and Hermione. I wanted to show, that the Narnian air, the prophecy, and Aslan are beginning to transform her as well, just as it did to the Pevensies in LWW.