Chapter 1 - Wands
August 1949
"Tell me again what we're doing here," esteemed headmaster of Hogwarts, Armando Dippet, grumbled to his excited companion.
The professor's white eyebrows rose as he gazed down the endless steps. He was beginning to rue his voluminous, long wizard robes, however his steady hand held his brightly lit wand aloft. "By Merlin, if I break my leg on some foolhardy task…" he muttered.
The bowels of the school for witchcraft and wizardry echoed his complaint.
"I still remember the healing spells," the wandmaker said with a scoff. Garrick Olivander had to admit, the spiraling staircase seemed to descend into the very center of the earth itself. How in the world did the Founders dig so deep?
He shook away the errant thoughts.
"You do know the quill writes the first years' names by itself? You don't have to linger on?"
Dippet nodded. Still, it was tradition for the headmaster to observe the final list of the year's entrants, Muggleborn and pure blood alike. The letters had been sent by owl, and those who had accepted were tallied by the quill. He had just settled on his task when the normally composed wandmaker had burst into his office, mumbling some doggerel, and insisting that the master of the hallowed institution open the entrance to the very depths of the castle itself.
The taller man cleared his throat. "When the wandless is in sight, seek Hogwart's foundation to see the light."
The elder wizard blinked owlishly. "A prophecy? And one so straightforward?"
Olivander nodded, "One that's been passed down among my family since the founding of the school. As to your second point, not all of us are Divination professors."
The schoolmaster chuckled at the insult. It was true some of the vapors that permeated the star gazing witches and wizards were a little potent.
"I couldn't find one, not one wand! I spent hours going through my entire shop. I even waved my wand over to see if I had to make a completely new wand. Nothing! Never in all the years of Ollivanders being in business has this ever happened!"
Dippet could sympathize. The upheaval of late had many unusual things happen. A great war, wizard rebellions…
His foot touched solid earth, and the man sighed with relief. The pair meandered through a few more twists and turns before the narrow lane gave way to a cavernous expanse.
With the two so deep underground, it should have felt claustrophobic, but the air beneath the school was fresh and cool.
Dippet glanced around, "It looks like we're under the Great Hall."
Olivander nodded. "That was the first room built? Back before they expanded the castle?"
"Yes. Could you imagine all of the students crowded together in one room?"
The headmaster never heard an answer as the expert on wands was already headed for one of the four great columns which bordered the cavern.
"Pelydryn," the professor murmured.
The light on the tip of his wand grew and expanded like a balloon. With a soft "pop," it floated upwards, lighting the darkness with a golden glow.
The man hurried over to his comrade, who was muttering over a smooth granite, as flat as a table.
"Is that a lion?"
The slab bore the faint etching of the great animal, one paw uplifted as if in greeting.
The wandmaker nodded. "Five galleons the others have a snake, raven, and badger on them."
Dippet tried several spells to no success.
"Accio wand!"
"Revelio!"
"Mellon!"
The stone remained untouched by the now irritated man's sorcery.
"Is it something only you can open, Olivander?"
The craftsman nodded. "Yes, as a precaution. You can't be too careful these days."
Thoughts of a handsome face hellbent on taking over the world, and purging it of inferior blood rose to Dippet's mind. Breathing calmly, he forced the image away. Dumbledore had taken care of the problem. Grindlewald was rotting in a cell with only dementors for company.
"Aslan."
A strange word, the headmaster noted. Oddly, not one in his vast magical lexicon. A breeze seemed to pick up from nowhere, smelling sweetly of flowers. Peace entered his mind when there had been fear before.
Crack! The stone had split in two, followed by three more echoes.
A plain wooden box was unearthed from the broken stone, miraculously intact after the centuries.
"By Merlin!" Dippet breathed as Olivander reached in with trembling fingers.
The professor scurried off to retrieve the others.
As of one mind, the two held a pair of boxes each, practically jogging back to the rise of stairs.
"If my students could see me now," he muttered with a chuckle.
Taking the express way, Dippet recalled a spell he knew would work.
"Leviosa," he commanded, putting the right emphasis on the word's inflections.
Ollivander did the same, rocketing up to the entrance to the esteemed office in a fraction of the time it took to descend.
In the quiet of his sanctuary, Dippet watched as the master wandmaker opened one of the boxes with shaking fingers.
Nestled in velvet folds was a long, seemingly ordinary, wooden wand.
The crafter raised it up in the bright sunlight.
"Apple wood. Strange color though. It's been stained in silver rather than brown." He waved it around his head once. A bell chimed in the distance.
Dippet knew that those who worked at Olllivander's imbued a magic of their own. One that couldn't be duplicated, and carried an innate sense for the composition of a wizard's most prized possession.
"Hmm, wolf's blood in this one, unusual."
He did the same for the remaining three.
"Lion's mane, fox's fur, and a lock of faun's hair? How strange."
"Have you ever used these ingredients in your cores?" Dippet queried.
The wandmaker shook his head. "No, never. These are highly unique, and what's stranger is that the apple wood is centuries old. Maybe even millennia."
Dippet gaped at that revelation. "Extraordinary! Do you know which one of the four wands belongs to the student?"
"Student?" Ollivander murmured distractedly as he turned the precious item in his hand. "I didn't tell you? It wasn't one student. It was four. All in one family."
The headmaster felt his mind racing. Four first years in a single family? Quadruplets? Even the numerous Weasley family couldn't boast that number.
He hurried over to the long parchment, now dry with glittering green ink.
Skimming the names, he saw it, glaringly obvious in the daylight.
Edmund Pevensie - 3rd year
Lucy Pevensie - 1st year
Peter Pevensie - 7th year
Susan Pevensie - 5th year
Merlin's Beard! The younger two would possibly adjust to the wizarding world due to their youth, but the elder two would be entering as others their age would be taking their O.W.L.S. And N.E.W.T.S! Their surname was definitely not one of the hallowed pureblood names, so they certainly would not have received private tutoring.
Who on earth were the Pevensies?
Please forgive the great liberties with their ages. The four have been aged appropriately in order to be enrolled in Hogwarts. Pelydryn is from the Chronicles of Prydain. Mellon is from Lord of the Rings. This story has been greatly inspired by the other Narnia and Harry Potter crossovers - This Way Comes by Atomic Muffin, and the fantastic Elijah's Cup by Lembas7.
Looking forward to hearing your thoughts,
Grignard