I felt like a child again, like I was entering the wardrobe for the first time once more. It was an emotion of pure wonder and freedom. The world seemed brighter, larger than ever before.
With a spring in my step and tears of joy in my eyes, I felt boundless energy and courage leaping through my veins.
"Susan, are you aright?"
I looked to Caspian with the largest smile I'd ever had since my reign as Queen Susan.
"Better than I've ever been!" I declared. Still, the question gave me pause—as did the dawning realization of what I'd done—made me slow down. "I remember everything, Caspian."
"Everything?" His tone was hopeful, his eyes like an adoring puppy's.
"I let Tom convince me that Narnia wasn't real a long time ago," I confessed. "I let him take advantage of my grief, both times I left—and now, after my family. . . I let him separate me from my family, Caspian. I renounced Aslan, and oh—"
"It's alright." Caspian hesitantly—reverently, one might say—touched my arm, like one might a saint's. "Aslan sent me to you because he knew you just needed a little push, but that you would find your way back to him again. And you have."
"And I have." It was redemption, as sure as Edmund's near the Stone Table. And I would never take it for granted.
"I am sorry I didn't believe you, at first, Caspian," I whispered. "I hope you'll forgive me."
"I already have."
He leaned in, and we kissed—a kiss that seemed almost holy, sacred in the light that it brought. It was everything I had ever wanted, as close to heaven on earth that could be possible.
Still, I quickly pulled away—we had work to do.
"We need to tell a teacher about the Basilisk, they'll know what to do," I said. "How to stop it—and we can then get to work on finding the real Heir of Slytherin."
"We should go to Dumbledore," Caspian suggested. "I think he's known about me all along—at the very least that I wasn't really a transfer student from Beauxbatons."
"I agree." There was always a serenity around the former Defense Professor, and a sorrow—perhaps brought on by the war against Grindelwald?
I did not know—but I was ready to make things right.
"It's his office hours." I double-checked my pocket watch. "We'd better get going before he leaves."
With that, we then ran all the way to the Transfiguration classroom, where indeed our Professor was waiting at his desk, grading last week's Transfiguration homework.
"Ah, Miss Pevensie, Mr. del Rey—I wondered when I might see the two of you together." He folded his glasses and set them down on his desk, regarding us with blue eyes as bright as the skies. "I had hoped to someday be in the esteemed presence of Narnians—but I never would have dreamed to have educated Narnian royalty."
"You knew?"
"Of course I knew, Miss Pevensie—or should I say, Your Majesties," he hastily amended. "I knew of Charn and the Wood Between the Worlds, once visited myself when I was a younger, more foolhardy man."
He looked quite wistful and sad. "I had the pleasure of visiting Narnia during the reign of the first king and queen, although you would never have known of them. I heard their descendants became the kings of Archenland, and I still occasionally receive missives from time to time."
"We need your help, sir," Caspian said. "We think we know what the monster is, the one that attacked Marjorie Jorkins."
His eyes gleamed with guilt—something I knew all too well. "I believe I may have a suspect for the Heir—I suspect it is in our best interests to exchange what we know."
"It's a Basilisk, sir." I pulled out the book and opened it to the page. "It makes sense—Slytherin was a Parselmouth, so likely his monster was related closely enough to snakes to speak the language. They may live long enough to see our day as well as Slytherin's, and when looked upon indirectly—"
"They turn the beholder to stone—good work, Miss Pevensie." Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Five points to Ravenclaw."
"Well, who do you think did it, then?" Caspian asked, breathless. "Do you have any proof? Everyone thinks I did it."
"Your Majesty, it just shows the ignorance to Aslan's magic surrounding you." Professor Dumbledore regarded us a moment. "I once hid this man's story, as I had wanted to give him a second chance. I am quite sorry to see that he did not take it. But I shall have to tell Professor Dippet that I left out an important secret about one of our prize pupils."
"Who?" Yet as I asked, my stomach sank with dread.
"You always did have it out for me, old man."
I didn't have to look to know it was Tom.
And the hissing accompanying told me that it wasn't in my best interests to.