When Harry Met Susan
(And Peter and Edmund and Lucy and Mr. Tumnus and so on and so forth, you know the rest…)
Summery: Trailing with the Pevensie kids, Harry and Pansy learn that there might be hope for them to return home.
Chapter Two – Aslan Is On The Move
As it turned out the bird was psst-ing us.
We looked around at each other and gingerly followed it. The bird (it was a robin) jumped from tree to tree always making sure we are behind it. After about ten minutes of walking I suddenly saw a dark creature piping from behind a rock and disappearing in a flash. I grabbed Peter's arm and pointed at the spot where the creature had been, he nodded and we looked at the spot unmoving. After a few seconds the dark head popped up again, this time more slowly and cautiously and looked at us.
"It's a beaver," called Lucy gleefully, and indeed it was. It crept out of its hiding place and approached us slowly shooting furtive glances around. Peter reached out his hand and approached the beaver carefully clicking his tongue,
"Here boy…" the beaver looked him up and down with what looked like a haughty expression (it's a little hard to tell when it comes to beavers and expressions…), and then said,
"Well, I ain't gonna smell it if that's what you want." Peter stepped back mumbling an apology, blush blossoming on his cheeks. He shot me a quick glance and I tried to hide my smile.
The beaver turned to Lucy who was laughing at her brother expense "Lucy Pevensie?" she immediately froze and looked at the beaver with wide eyes.
"Come on, we cannot talk here, too dangerous." Said the beaver quickly and started to move. Peter and Lucy along with Parkinson and me made to follow the little furry beast when Susan cried out,
"What are you all doing?" I knew she was the one without an ounce of adventurism in her… and the little shifty Edmund was no better,
"She's right, how do we know we can trust him?"
"He says he knows the fawn." Answered Peter like it was the most obvious thing, I knew I like him. He should be a Gryffindor. Blind disregard to rules and personal safety- that's how we like our people.
"He's a beaver, he shouldn't be saying anything!" Logic… what a redundant thing, so… Ravenclaw.
The beaver seemed to think along the same lines as me because he started ushering us to follow him again. Seeing as we had nothing to lose and probably a lot to gain by learning something new Parkinson and I followed the beaver without hesitation. Peter and Lucy soon joined us, and Susan had little choice but to do the same. I glanced back at Edmund, he stood there looking rather lost, and then he sighed and trailed behind us.
We trudged in the snow after the beaver until we rounded a corner and found ourselves on a sharp ledge, and under our feet stretched the frozen surface of a pond and in it midst laid a lovely beaver's dam. We started to make our way down, Lucy kept complementing the beaver on his beautiful home and I swear if beavers could blush, our friend would be glowing red by now.
Inside the beaver's home we met Mrs. Beaver, who reminded me a great deal of Mrs. Weasley with her endless fussing to make sure we were comfortable and well fed. I instantly liked her.
"Aslan is on the move!" the beavers were thoroughly exited and looked at us all with shining eyes. I glanced around and was rather pleased to see I wasn't the only one without a clear idea of what the beavers were talking about.
"Who's Aslan?" Edmund's voice came from behind us. I completely forgot he was there, and he had a look about him that indicated that was not a smart move.
Mr. Beaver started to chuckle when a sharp poke from his wife made him look at us again.
"He's only the king of the whole wood, the top geezer… the real King of Narnia!" slow nods passed around the table and the beaver rolled his eyes in frustration, "I take it you don't know about the prophecy?" as our heads shook, he sighed. Absolutely Fucking Fabulous, another prophecy. As if I didn't have enough on my plate with the first one.
"When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sits in Cair Paravel on the throne the evil times will be over and done."
"You know that doesn't really rhyme." That pseudo-Ravenclaw bint is really starting to get on my nerves!
Mrs. Beaver cut in with a soothing voice, "It has long been foretold that two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve… wait a second," she said and then counted us, "There are six of you. That would not do, you're too many."
"Oh, don't worry about us, we're from another story…" drawled Parkinson and I tried to explain politely,
"We're just trying to find a way to get back home, we don't really belong here."
"Well then, Aslan is the one to see. He can solve everything." Said the beaver confidently and Parkinson looked at him with shining eyes,
"Great! Where can we find that Aslan guy?" the beaver looked at her suspiciously,
"He's gathering an army and they are waiting near the Stone Table," he said slowly. At the mention of army Lucy gasped,
"An army?"
"But of course, you are to fight the White Witch and regain control over Narnia." Said the beaver happily and received another painful jibe from his wife,
"Don't worry dear; you will not be fighting the battle alone." She looked pointedly at Peter who blanched under her stare,
"I think you got it all wrong, we're not heroes." Mrs. Beaver just dismissed him with a wave of her paw. Oh, how I know that gesture; I get it each time I try to make people see beyond my scar. Most of the time I just look the other way trying to calm the feeling of wanting to hurt someone. Peter, on the other hand, looked positively scared. I completely sympathized with his feelings; I bet all the galleons in Gringotts he did not see that coming when he stepped inside the wardrobe. Without even realizing it I slowly reached my hand under the table to calm him, his fingers closed over mine and squeezed my hand lightly with silent thanks. I felt my heart quickening its pace and knew there wasn't a force in the world that could make me move my hand away right now.
"Where's Edward?" asked Parkinson suddenly, and I was jerked out of my thoughts, I could see Peter from the corner of my eye jerking up as well and a warm feeling washed over me. I would have to have a serious talk with myself when I get the time…
"Who?" asked Lucy politely, I have a feeling she was a little intimidated by Parkinson, Slytherins do tend to have this effect on people.
"Edward, you brother," she replied and Susan looked sternly at her,
"It's Edmund."
"Whatever, he's not here!" Parkinson retorted, Peter got up, his fingers slipping from mine,
"Ed?" he called out but there was no mistake, the boy was gone. "I'm going to kill him," he added grimly and Mr. Beaver said in a grave, ominous voice,
"You may not have to… Has Edmund ever been in Narnia before?"
The next couple of minutes were rather eventful. Parkinson and I watched as the three Pevensie siblings were arguing, I was feeling rather embarrassed, like I was barging on a private moment but Parkinson looked rather curiously from one to the other.
At long last it was Lucy, who called the argument to a halt when she shrieked,
"Stop it! This isn't going to help Edmund!" The beavers nodded and Mr. Beaver said softly,
"She's right. Only Aslan can help your brother now."
"Then take us to him." Peter stood looking pale but resolute.
A loud crash was heard from outside and Mr. Beaver called,
"They're after us, follow me."
We all scrambled to our feet and followed the beaver to a small door, hidden behind an armchair. The door led to a small tunnel. This was just like taking the secret passage to Honyduke's, I thought, but somehow I doubted there would be sweets on the end of this one.
After walking all night through the snow we were all rather exhausted, especially poor Lucy, I must say she was rather brave trying to hide her tiredness but she was only six or seven and it was rather obvious she couldn't continue much further. Peter lifted her to his back, where she rested her head on his shoulder and soon drifted off. After about an hour I volunteered to take the child from him and he gave me a rather fatigued smile and passed me the sleeping girl. She was a much heavier than I expected but I couldn't back down from my offer.
"Aslan's camp is near the Stone Table, just across the frozen river." Mr. Beaver called at the crack of dawn. He allowed us all a short rest before ushering us again. Nobody argued with him, we could see how scared and tense he and his wife were and we could sense the danger ourselves.
We made our way on the plain of snow towards the river, the beavers led the way, behind them walked Susan and Parkinson, too tiered even to talk. Peter and I brought the rear with Lucy straddling between us, her hand clasped tightly in Peter's.
The only sound was Mr. Beaver's impatient calls for us to hurry up. Peter muttered under his breath,
"If he tells me to hurry up one more time, I'm going to turn him into a big fluffy hat!" earning tiered smiles and sniggers from Lucy and me, when another sound pierced the clear morning air. It was the sound of sleigh bells. Peter and I exchanged a wide-eyed look before the beaver screamed,
"It's the Witch! Run!" we didn't needed telling twice, before starting to run as fast as our tiered legs would carry us.
We managed to scramble into a little grotto just off the path hidden between a few trees. We sat huddled together trying to catch our breath, when I felt Peter's hand grasping my knee tight. I tried not to think about it and concentrate instead on breathing but it seemed so much more difficult all of a sudden.
We waited a few minutes listening hard for any noises, when we realized that the sound outside the grotto wasn't bells anymore but birds, well, that had to be a good sign.
Mr. Beaver cautiously slipped out of the grotto to have a look; I looked over at Mrs. Beaver and was mightily surprised to see Parkinson trying to console her. I would never have thought it was possible for her to show compassion for another person, well, being.
The head of Mr. Beaver suddenly appeared up side down above the grotto opening, causing us all to jump and Lucy to yelp when he said cheerfully,
"Come out! I hope you've all been good, because there is someone here to see you!" the girls looked extremely relived by that and scrambled their way out of the grotto. Peter lifted his hand from my knee with a light blush, as if he only realized it was there. I felt searing cold in the spot where his warm hand had been a minute ago and tried to smile at him. I was very confused; I couldn't really understand how a simple touch from him could make my blood stir up like that, in a way that Hannah's touch never did. And then another uncomfortable thought struck me, it was the first time since I got here that I speared a thought to poor Hannah.
When I lifted my eyes I saw we were standing in front of a jolly fat man with a red suit, he looked oddly familiar but there was something not quite right…
"Merry Christmas, sir." Lucy chirped cheerfully and I was struck with the oddity of standing in front of Father Christmas, talk about myth coming to life… I remembered the conversation I had with Peter on our way to the fawn's house and I wondered how many more surprises the Pevensies could take.
The old man lifted an enormous bag out of the back of his sleigh, and Lucy called again, her eyes lighting up,
"Presents!"
The old man smiled at her and lowered himself on one knee to bring himself to her height, he held out a small glass vial,
"The juice of the fire flower. One drop will cure any injury. And though I hope you'll never have to use it." He added and handed her a small dagger. He got up and moved to his bag again taking out a bow and a quiver of arrows and turned to Susan,
"Trust in this bow, and it will not easily miss." She nodded tightly trying to look braver than she felt.
Parkinson and I edged our way slowly to the back of the group, like a couple of kids knowing they wanted presents as well but not entirely sure they merited them.
The old man took out a sword and a shield, and presented them to Peter who looked at him wide eyed and almost scared,
"Peter, the time to use these may be near at hand." Peter gulped and drew the sword letting the sun sparkle on the polished metal surface and pulled himself to his full height,
"Thank you, sir."
The old man then cocked his head and looked beyond Peter to us, I shuffled a little uneasy in the snow when the man said,
"Harry Potter and Pansy Parkinson, and what would you ask from Father Christmas?" I looked up in surprise that he actually knew my name and he smiled at me, his eyes twinkling in a very familiar way. Was it possible that Dumbledore was related to Father Christmas?
Before we could answer he turned back to his bag and pulled out a broom,
"This is for you, Harry. I trust you to help with the upcoming war, even if this one isn't yours." I smiled grimly, but nodded all the same. Of course I would help; it was the kind of person I was. I took the broom and ran a quick inspection on it- it was breathtakingly beautiful.
Father Christmas turned to his bag one last time and produced a white horn with silver trimming and presented it to Parkinson,
"Blow on this, and wherever you are, help will come." Parkinson looked crestfallen with her gift,
"That not fair, Potter got a broom, Peter got a sword and all I got was a lousy…" I clasped a hand over her mouth and smiled apologetically at Father Christmas,
"She says thank you." He gave me a small wink and clambered up to his sleigh again and then turned to face us,
"They are tools, not toys… bear them well and wisely. Now, I best be off. Winter is almost over and things do pile up when you've been gone for a hundred years…! Long live Aslan! And Merry Christmas!"
With a chorus of "Merry Christmas" and "Thank you" the sleigh was gone.
A/N: Oh, come on, you didn't really expect Harry to fall for Susan, did you? The whole idea of this fic came to me after I watched Narnia (drooling over Peter, naturally). My friend who burned the film for me also put HP-GoF on the same disc… it was like a cosmic intervention or something… I swear.
The title is of course a little pun on "When Harry met Sally" the name Susan just sounded more fitting than Peter…
I couldn't think of a really good present for Pansy so I gave her Susan's horn, but Susan said she doesn't mind so everything worked out just fine.
