Disclaimer: I do NOT own HP series or CN series (though I love reading them both). Once again, thank you all for either clicking or actually reading my story.

Demetri was a non-talking horse, but it ran almost as fast as Edmund's former talking horse, Philip. By noon of the second day (from the Great Plain, that is), Edmund and his company had crossed half of the Black Woods. Now he was sweeping past the lighter part of the forest, hearing the trees' greetings here and there. Edmund's hair and cloak were still wet due to the light spray of rain that still lingered (along with horrible humidity). His crown was temporarily carried by Trumpkin—Trumpkin's sack, to be exact—for its own safety.

Edmund felt his energy draining away. Riding a horse non-stop for two days was a huge energy consuming exercise. He knew, by the slightly slowing down of pace, that Demetri was also getting tired. If Demetri, a battle horse, was getting tired, then it meant the other three horses, not counting the centaurs, that each carry a full grown man, (Trumpkin was fully grown) must be extremely tired. Once the party gets to Hogwarts, the horses would not be able to move for several days. Edmund sighed with concern for the horses.

The long and tiring trip made the men go mute. Nobody spoke any words unless there were rough winds scraping the eyes or branches smacking foreheads that caused short exclamations. It changed a bit after the ever cheerful Pattertwig rejoined them, but it was very true to say that everyone was equally relieved when the giant stone castle, the Hogwarts itself, appeared beyond the trees.

When the calculated date of King Edmund's arrival came, everyone bustled with anticipation in the great hall. It was an early afternoon, and students gathered around the tables with their favorite people, waiting for the king's arrival so that they could start eating. Then they heard the most majestic sound. It was sort of like a war horn, but more grand in volume and graceful in tone. Dumbledore raised himself from his seat and, as the rest of the faculty followed his example, walked forward to stand in front of the podium.

Filch first appeared, opening the gate. Then, with swords held high in their hands, the two centaurs, Blacway and Stonpreek marched in, Trumpkin (Pattertwig on his shoulder) close behind. All of them were quite wet. A tall man with a dark blue cloak that covered his entire body and his head as well walked in after the three exotic beings, followed by two most humanly looking men (among them all). The last two people held red flags or panels with the royal emblem of Narnia, a golden lion roaring.

Students, not able to see the cloaked man's face, mumbled things in modest fears because not until recently, the centaurs were thought as evil creatures to them. Edmund, at this point, was too exhausted to remember to lift up his hood to reveal his face. His cloak was still wet, and he doubted his hair was able to dry in the heavily moisturized air. The rest of his company was not far too better either. Overall, the royal party was dark and evil in appearance.

Albus Dumbledore took quick steps toward the king as the centaurs parted into opposite directions at the front of the hall. He glanced toward the veiled face.

"King Edmund?"

Edmund, now only few steps away from the podium, remembered to take off his hood. His back was still turned against the students (some of the most curious one started to crane their necks to see his face). He gave a polite smile to the elderly wizard and nodded.

"That is I. Pleasure to meet you again, Professor." He was pulled into a hug by Dumbledore then.

So far, Ron Weasley's disdain toward the king had only increased. He did not like the dark aura one bit, and those centaurs! All the less reason to dislike the leader of those creatures, he thought.

Harry, on the other hand, was tensed more than ever. He had an imaginary memory of meeting the dark creatures in the Forbidden Forest. He had never seen a centaur in real life so he wondered why there was such an intimidating and familiar feeling to them.

Hermione only briefly eyed the centaurs and the dwarf before returning to her constant forking. As usual, Ron started their quiet conversation.

"I hope he's not like another dark lord or something." He muttered.

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "What do you mean 'another'? We have no records of 'dark lords' in our history, Ron."

It was true. Greatly confused himself, Ron opened his mouth, closed it, and just shrugged. "That just came out. I don't know where I got that."

That was when King Edmund finally turned around.

There were cries of joy, actually, more like shrieks of joy, from the female Hogwarts students. From their point of view, the description of the king was as follows: Whether it was the moisture or it was the king's mood, no one knew, but, under the dim light of candles, King Edmund's face consisted only of two colors—pale (very very pale) peach and onyx. His hair, wet but not too wet, looked almost black and matched the color of his brows and eyes. His skin appeared very clean despite the long trip, almost even sparkling to the eyes of young girls. His cloak, now slightly forced behind him, revealed his royal armor, the same symbol from the flag also apparent on the front. He had a handsome sword (in its equally handsome sheath) on his dark leather belt, and his long leather boots that came right up to his knees just completed the Prince Charming look. The girls were absolutely delighted. At that moment, they all had the same thought, now we get some nice view! That is, all but except one, the brightest witch of the age, Hermione Granger.

When she first looked at the handsomely formed face of the king, she was caught unexpectedly by a sudden feeling of familiarity. She had seen that face before. She kept staring for that reason, which was mistaken as an action of admiration by Ron.

If Ron's emotion toward the unseen king was called "disdain" before, now it was pure "dislike." Why can't Queen Susan be here again? He asked in silence. Instead, he looked at Hermione, who was still trying to figure out the queer familiarity, and asked. "Is this how girls felt whenever Queen Susan visited?"

Hermione, not leaving her glance from the king's face, shrugged. "Maybe. I never think the same as them, you know."

"What are you thinking now, then?" Ron, furrowing his brows, asked.

"I'm thinking I've seen him before but can't remember when." Hermione calmly answered, finally taking off her eyes.

Harry, who was quietly listening, suggested. "You know, Professor Dumbledore said that King Edmund had visited Hogwarts before. Was it five years ago?" He turned toward Ron and asked for confirmation.

Ron just scoffed and muttered "why should I care?" but Harry's words caused a spark in Hermione's head.

"Oh, dear Merlin, no." She vigorously shook her head all the while ducking it low.

"What is it?" Worried, Harry quickly looked at her direction.

"He's that boy! He's the boy that I tried to chase out of the very front carriage of the train that day!" She shouted in a whisper.

At her words, Ron exclaimed also in a whisper. "What?!"

"Good Godric, I told him he wasn't supposed to be there, and now I know that he had the full right to be there!" She covered her face with her hands in despair. "I even told him my name and that I was going to be the brightest witch of the age! This is going to be the most humiliating experience ever."

While Ron just watched her with his mouth wide open, Harry patted her back in reassurance.

"Don't worry, Hermione. That was five years ago. You hardly remembered about it yourself. He probably doesn't remember it at all."

"Do you think so?" Hermione, trembling, raised her head and looked at Harry with hope.

"I'm sure." Harry with a tight smile on his lips nodded.

Oh, only if Edmund had really forgotten about that day's incident!

Author's Note: A link for the image I used for Edmund's look in this chapter (if any of you is ever curious) is written on my profile. There were two, each from Ron and Harry. If you think you've got it, do not hesitate to let me know your answer (even if you're wrong, I won't bite, I promise).