Harry Potter and the Most Noble Order of the Lion by ElrondsScribe

Then Aslan turned to them and said, "You do not yet look so happy as I mean you to be."

"We're so afraid of being sent away, Aslan," said Lucy. "And you have sent us back into our own world so very often."

"Children," said Aslan very gently. "I will send you back to your own world one more time. But do not despair," he said as their faces fell. "When we meet again, you will have come to stay forever. But for now, you must return to the Shadowlands. There is one final task you must perform there."

"Please, Aslan," said Eustace. "What is it?"

"You will know when you have found it," said Aslan. "I shall send you help."

Then everything began to fade before their eyes, and the solid shapes and bright light around them became a blur of shifting colors.

oo0oo

The first of Peter's senses to return to him was Hearing. Voices were speaking - beautiful, musical voices in languages he did not know, and occasionally in English. Then came Touch - he was lying on his back in a soft bed and seemed to be wearing something very like a long nightshirt. Next came Smell - his sheets were fresh and slightly fragrant. Last came Sight - he blinked and opened his eyes.

The people standing about the room and hovering over his bed were so noticeable that for a few moments he could look at nothing else. They were like human people and yet were not. The beauty of their faces and voices reminded Peter a little of the Mer-People he had once known in Narnia, only these people reminded him more of starlight and sunlight and less of white-capped ocean waves. They were all tall and slender and had long, flowing, beautiful hair and wore long, flowing, beautiful robes.

"This one wakes!" said one of the Beautiful People in English, and Peter found himself suddenly surrounded by a small crowd of them.

"Get back, get back, and leave the boy room to breathe!" scolded one of them - a lady with bright silver hair and sparkling blue eyes. She must have been a person of some authority among them, for they all scattered at once.

"And you," said the lady. "You must be King Peter of Narnia."

"Well, yes I am," said Peter blinking. "But who are you, and how did you know who I was?"

"Earwen is my name," said she. "But that, of course, will mean nothing to you. As for how I know who you are, my husband, who is the master of this house, foresaw your coming and caused the house to be made ready for you. Your brothers and sisters and friends are all about you."

Peter looked around and saw that the room he was in was really more like a healing ward such as there had been in Cair Paravel, and there were several other beds to his left and right, as well as against the opposite wall. He caught a glimpse of Jill's curly red hair against the pillow of the bed nearest him. The people who had been crowding round him a few moments before (mostly women, but a few men) were moving in and out among the beds.

Peter turned back to the silver-haired lady Earwen. "How long have you cared for us?" he asked.

"Not for long," she said. "We found you lying side by side under the trees that surround our House maybe an hour ago, though of course no one can tell how long you lay there before that. We did not think you were hurt or ill, but we wanted you to be comfortable."

"I can't speak for the others, of course," said Peter. "But I'm all right. Thank you for your hospitality."

Earwen looked at him closely, and then leaned forward and asked almost in a whisper, "Is it true that you have all been sent hither by - by the One Himself?"

"If by the One you mean Aslan, the Lion, Highest of all High Kings," said Peter. "Then yes, it is true."

Just then, someone stirred in one of the other beds, and Peter sat up to see who it was. It was Lucy, and one of the women was already stooping over her and greeting her in much the same fashion as Earwen had greeted Peter. And after that it was not long before the others (Digory, Polly, Edmund, Eustace and Jill) began to wake up too.

The house in which Earwen and her husband Finarfin lived was, like the old Kirke house, a big country estate that was a pretty fair way away from anything like what Eustace called “civilization.” It was a very odd house because, as Edmund was the first to find out, it had nearly everything which was the standard for a very modern home and no electricity to power it. None of the taps in the numerous bathrooms or in the large kitchen seemed to work unless someone who lived in the house was touching them. The same went for the radio, and even the lights. There was, oddly enough, no television or telephone, not that anybody really missed either of those too terribly.

I have said that the house was modern, but this was actually only partly true. Some of the rooms were ordinary enough - bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchens, and a simply enormous library, but there were also odd rooms more like old studies and observatories in which the strangest things seemed to go on. Oddly enough, there were also many strange instruments that they had never before seen even in Narnia. One by one, they began to suspect that there was some magic at work about the place, and not three hours after first awakening they agreed that they really must ask one of the strange people who seemed to know the place what was up.

By that time they had been given baths in great fountains of clear water in white marble bathrooms, and dressed in elegant, comfortable robes such as they had only worn in Narnia, which of course added to the mystery. They had also been given bread and meat and fruit and wine, served to them by three of the beautiful people. They seemed less and less human the more the Narnians saw of them, and Digory had then noticed that they all had leaf-shaped ears which came to a delicate but definite point, a trait no human ear could boast of.

“I think it’s time to ask these people directly what’s going on here,” said Peter. “They seem rather friendly, but even if they weren’t, I don’t think they’re the sort of people one could sneak past.”

“I think Peter’s right,” said Polly. “Or almost right; about the people anyway. I don’t know how to properly describe it, but I have the feeling that they might or might not be friendly to us, but that they’re still - well, good, if you know what I mean.”

“Maybe,” said Digory. “But I get the idea that behind their pretty faces and musical voices they’re very powerful, and not to made angry, if that can be avoided.”

“Who said anything about making them angry?” asked Jill. “We just want to know what’s up with this place, and I’m sure that one with the silver hair - Earwen, isn’t she - would be happy to tell us, even if most of the others just want to stare and point.”

Earwen and Finarfin, her golden-headed husband, turned out to be very friendly and helpful. Finarfin confirmed that there was indeed no electricity in the house, and that magic was used to power the house instead. Asked about the nature of this magic, he said that as best he understood it (and he admitted freely that he did not know very much), there was a kind of magic that was more common and less powerful than the kind with which Aslan had drawn them from world to world before. This magic was of a somewhat more dull, practical nature, and in fact was learned and used by humans in certain circles as a permanent way of life.

Earwen also revealed to them what they had already suspected, which was that she and nearly everyone else who lived in that house were not human. It seemed that they came of an immortal people who were called Elves, something the friends of Narnia had never known really existed even in Narnia. Apparently, there were whole clans and races of Elves, living for the most part in secret, scattered throughout the country, and indeed the world.

In fact, there seemed to be a great deal going on in their own world that they had thought only happened old stories - spellcasting and dragon-taming and pixie-catching and “scientific” discoveries and even battles and wars.

Digory was the only one who was not entirely surprised by all this, for as he said, “If my old fool of an Uncle could manage to make magic Rings that could send people back and forth from world to world, who knows what other sorts of things have been going on under our very noses? And even in our own world he talked of the lost island of Atlantis, not that I expect he knew anything about it.”

“Great Scott!” said Lucy. “It looks as if we shall have just as many adventures here in our own world as ever we did in Narnia.”

“Then we’d better get started at once,” said Edmund. “If, as I understand, most of these adventures are to be found where people are actually practicing magic, I think the best thing we could do with our time is to learn how to do just that, if such a thing is possible.”

“It is indeed possible,” said Finarfin. “We do not know very much about Mortal magic, but we can take you down to London for some things we know you will need.”

“You can get magical supplies in London?” asked Eustace skeptically.

“You shall see,” said Earwen with a wink. “Come with us, and we shall take you shopping.”

“What, are we going at once?” said Jill.

“We haven’t really got anything else to do, have we?” asked Peter in amusement. “We might as well go now.”

Finarfin did not lead them out of the house as they had expected, but into a large front room which was furnished like a big sitting room.

“Here is your first sight of magic used commonly by Mortal sorcerers,” he said. “Behold the fireplace!” And he pointed to a rather large fireplace on the ledge of which sat a big jar of some sort of powder, though otherwise unremarkable. The four Pevensies, Digory, Polly, Jill, and Eustace all stared first at it and then at the Elf, trying to make out if he was serious.

Behind them Earwen burst into laughter. “Oh, for a camera to capture the looks on your faces!” she cried. “Surely you did not think you were going to take the train down to London like you would have when you knew nothing about Magic?”

“Well, what else would we do?” asked Polly.

“You Floo,” said Earwen.

“Don’t you mean ‘fly’?” asked Eustace.

“I mean Floo,” said Earwen. “Though it will feel rather like flying. In that jar over the fireplace is what is called Floo Powder. It will help you Floo, or magically transport yourself, from this enchanted fireplace to another similarly enchanted fireplace of your choice.”

“And that’s how we’re going to London?” asked Lucy, wide-eyed.

“That is how we are going to London,” said Earwen.

“Then how do we use it?” inquired Polly.

“Simply enough,” said Finarfin. “Each of us will take a handful of Floo powder, throw it down in the grate, walk straight into the flames that will spring up - fear not, the fire is harmless - and speak the name of your desired destination. Only, and this is very important, you must say the name of the place you are going very distinctly, or you may be misdirected.”

“All right,” said Eustace. “Get a handful of powder, throw it down, walk in, enunciate where I’m going. Is that it?”

“That is all,” said Finarfin. “You, meldanya, should probably go first to demonstrate how it is done, and I will come last to see that no one is left behind or has an accident.”

“You can have accidents?” Digory looked a bit disturbed.

“As long as you speak clearly and keep your arms and legs to yourself, all will be well,” said Earwen. She marched up to the fireplace and reached into the jar for a handful of powder. Then she tossed it into the grate. Instantly, great tongues of bright green fire roared to life, and Earwen walked straight into the midst of them without a moment’s pause and cried, “Diagon Alley!”

The flames leaped up even higher, seeming to consume her for an instant, and then they vanished altogether. Earwen was gone.

More than one of the humans had rather an uneasy flip of the stomach at the sight.

“Right,” said Peter, blinking. “Now where are we going again?”

“Diagon Alley,” Finarfin repeated slowly and carefully.

Peter walked up to the fireplace and took down the jar. He put his hand inside, and grasped a fistful of fine dry powder that felt rather like sand. Then he put back the jar and threw down the powder. He could not help starting back at the sudden appearance of the green fire, for it looked quite as real as ordinary fire.

I mustn’t think about it, I must just do it, he told himself, and in a moment he was inside the fireplace. The fire was all around him, and yet he felt no heat at all. It was rather unsettling.

“Diagon Alley!” he said loudly, hoping he had pronounced it correctly.

Instantly the fireplace surrounding him vanished, and he felt as if he were hurtling headlong through the air. Other fireplaces flashed by, too quickly for him to see any of them clearly, and he barely had time to wonder how many fireplaces were enchanted for Floo-use in England before he suddenly felt himself land hard on his back in another fireplace. He winced and looked up, panting a little.

“Well done,” said Earwen, hauling him to his feet (she was, he found, much stronger than she looked) and dusting him off a little. “The first time is always difficult, and you managed it rather better.”

“Did I?” said Peter rubbing his back.

“Well, you made it to the right place,” said Earwen. “That is more than can be said of my first time Flooing.”

Peter felt he would almost rather have taken the train, but he did not say so aloud. He glanced around and started.

They seemed to be in a rather crowded pub. It seemed ordinary enough at first glance, but the people in it did not. Quite a number of them wore long robes and pointed hats (the sort you see in drawings of wizards and witches in fairy tale books), and their talk was about the oddest things - the quality of racing brooms, or the price of Murtlap tentacles (whatever a Murtlap was), or the latest gossip about celebrities Peter had never heard of before.

But he had only just taken stock of all this when Earwen said, “Ah, here comes another one!” And Peter turned back to the fireplace just in time to see Lucy appear in a flash of green fire. She looked just as disoriented as Peter had felt on his landing.

“Ugh!” she groaned as Peter helped her out. “That was awful!”

“I know,” said Peter. “I don’t like Flooing either, if it’s like that.”

“Where on earth are we?” asked Lucy staring around.

“This is the Leaky Cauldron, an inn of good repute,” said Earwen. “No to mention the best ale in London, though that is not why we are here.”

“I think I rather need an ale after a tumble like that,” said Peter.

“I know I do,” said Lucy. “Perhaps later?”

One by one, the others all came bumping and bumbling through the fireplace and out into the pub. Finarfin came last, landing gracefully on his feet with not a hair out of place. “All safe and sound, I hope?” he said as he stepped out.

“Quite,” said Earwen. “If not a little knocked up. Let’s all have a butterbeer before we go further.”

“Butterbeer?” asked Jill. “What’s that?”

“A drink made with butter and sugar,” said Earwen. “It may not sound promising, but most who have tasted it deem it fit for the Powers themselves.”

“And the Powers agree, from all I hear,” said Finarfin placidly.

“Who?” asked Digory in interest.

“Later,” said Finarfin. “Come and taste it.”

The two Elves led the friends of Narnia up to the counter behind which a youngish man stood waiting. “What’ll it be today then, mister?” he asked, addressing Finarfin more than anyone.

“Seven hot butterbeers for my friends,” said Finarfin. “And a Wizard’s Brew for myself, and - ?”

“Make that two Wizard’s Brews, Tom,” said Earwen, and she pulled a small pouch from somewhere in her voluminous skirt and laid a big gold coin and three smaller silver coins on the counter.

“Coming right up,” said Tom, who seemed to be the innkeeper. He collected the money and promptly disappeared for a moment behind the counter. Then he reappeared with seven tall tankards and two rather smaller cups, and put them down.

What he did next was their second glimpse of what Earwen had called, “more common and less powerful magic.” He whipped out a long, slender, pointed stick just under a foot long, and pointed it at the two cups. Instantly, they began filling themselves up with what looked like perfectly ordinary beer, and stopped only when the cups were quite full. The man then turned the end of the stick on the tankards, and they filled themselves in like manner with a warm liquid that was lighter in color than the beer, and foamed and steamed invitingly.

“There you are,” said Tom the innkeeper while the seven friends of Narnia stared at the tankards and tried not to look as suspicious as they felt.

“Thank you, Tom!” said Finarfin. “Come, friends, let us find a table to enjoy our drinks properly!”

They found an empty table near the back of the room and sat down with their tankards (or in the Elves’ case, their cups), trying not to stare as a girl walked by one of the other tables and turned all the empty chairs on top of it with a flick of her wrist.

“Cheers,” said Finarfin, and he and Earwen lifted their cups to their lips. The others picked up their tankards, and sipped cautiously at first; then, drank deeply and with relish. It was very sweet, rather like a warm kind of cream soda, with butterscotch on the edge of the flavor, and it was delicious. It seemed to have very little alcohol, but this didn’t seem the sort of drink where you wanted much of it.

“So this is butterbeer!” said Jill, putting down her tankard. “It’s divine!”

“Isn’t it?” said Earwen with a smile. “We thought you would like it. Do not hurry, but do not linger either; there is much to be done today. We must go to Diagon Alley.”

“I thought we were in Diagon Alley,” said Edmund, wiping foam from his upper lip.

“The Leaky Cauldron opens onto Diagon Alley from the back,” said Earwen. “The street in front of the inn is an ordinary, un-magical one. The wizards of the city have placed a charm upon it so that only they and any in their company can see it.”

“By the way,” said Finarfin. “We have not yet told you that among wizards and witches, non-magicel folk are known as Muggles.”

“I suppose we’re Muggles, then,” said Eustace.

“I rather think not,” said Earwen thoughtfully. “But we shall find out soon enough.” She then fell silent, leaving this enigmatic remark unexplained.

They finished their drinks and with some regret got up from the table. Once again, Earwen took the lead and Finarfin brought up the rear. They went past the fireplace through which they had come, past a number of wizard-people eating and drinking, and finally through a door in the back. Beyond this there was a cool courtyard which ended in a high red brick wall in which there was no door or window or chink of any sort. Earwen walked straight up to the brick wall and rapped authoritatively on one of the bricks. Then she stood back, and the Narnians crowded up behind her.

Without warning the brick that the Elf had knocked on began to tremble, and a small gap appeared in the wall. The gap became wider and taller, and stretched down to the ground, and within five minutes an enormous archway had appeared in the wall. The Elves led the humans through it into the strangest place they had ever seen.

It was indeed a fairly busy street, and was lined on both sides with the most curious shops imaginable - the nearest one had an assortment of cauldrons piled outside it - and most of the people on it were wearing the same queer, old-fashioned robes and gowns and cloaks as they had seen people wearing at the inn.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," said Finarfin with an amused smile as the humans pushed forward and stared around, trying to see everything at once. "All in good time, young ones, all in good time. We have many stops to make."

"Where are we going first?" asked Lucy eagerly.

Earwen and Finarfin looked at each other.

"Ollivander's?" asked Earwen.

"I see no reason why not," said Finarfin. Then he turned to the others. "We are going to the wandmaker's first," he announced.

"Wandmaker's?" asked Digory quizzically.

The Elves just smiled. "You shall see," said Finarfin, and at once began making his way along the crowded street. The others followed close behind him as he went, and eventually he turned and pushed into the door of a rather narrow shop-front. The painted letters above the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

"We're getting magic wands here?!" asked Edmund in astonishment.

"One for each of you," smiled Earwen, who was already on the threshold. "Are you all coming or not?"

The others exchanged looks, but they followed her inside.

It was a small shop, no bigger than it had looked from the street, and very quiet. It was indeed rather like an old bookstore, except that instead of books there were long narrow wooden boxes lining the shelves around them. A tiny-sounding bell had rung when first they stepped inside, and it seemed rather loud that place. The silence seemed mysterious and full of secrets; Polly let herself imagine that the very air in the place was saturated with sleeping magic just waiting to be awakened, which was in fact not far from the truth.

"Good day, Garrick," said Finarfin casually. "I hope you are well."

It was then that they saw with a start that a man had come to greet them. He looked rather young, about thirty perhaps, with pale (almost luminous) grey eyes. His dark hair seemed all the darker in contrast to the pallor of his face - a refined, educated sort of a face.

"Couldn't be better," said Garrick Ollivander. "My store of wands made in the new and improved fashion has grown, as you can see, and - "

Peter had the idea that the man would have launched into a long discussion about his craft of wandmaking if he had been allowed, for Finarfin said quickly, "Perhaps at some other time we may discuss all your latest innovations, Garrick, for now I am somewhat of a hurry. I want the best of your wands for each of my seven companions here," and he indicated the others with a dip of his head.

"Aha!" said Ollivander, and he turned his lamplike stare on the seven humans who stood waiting for some kind of prompt. "And which of you will be first?" he asked.

Everyone looked at Peter, and Peter realized that as usual he was expected to take the lead. He stepped forward. "I'll be first, sir," he said.

"Excellent!" said Ollivander. "What is your name, young man?"

"Peter Pevensie," said he.

"Well then, Mr. Peter Pevensie," said Ollivander. "Just hold out your wand hand, if you would be so kind."

As Peter had never held a magic wand before in either of his lives, he supposed that his sword hand would suffice. Not knowing quite what else to do, he held it out. Ollivander instantly whipped out a tape measure and began taking the oddest measurements - the length of his arm, the length of his forearm, shoulder-to-ground, shoulder-to-knee, and around the crown of his head.

Now why would you need to measure somebody if what you're selling them is a wand? wondered Edmund. I never saw the White Witch wear her wand.

This of course set him wondering what sort of powers he and his companions would have once they learned this "duller, more practical" magic, and what exactly they were expected to do with them.

Meanwhile, Ollivander had finished his measurements, and was now prowling the shelves and selecting boxes apparently at random until he had an armful of them. Then he returned, opening one of the boxes and saying, "Now try this one - applewood, twelve inches, with a unicorn hair core. Give it a wave, do."

"What will happen when I wave it?" asked Peter eyeing it suspiciously. Wands and spells and enchantments had had rather a sinister history in Narnia; and even here in their own world, all that Digory had told them about his old Uncle, Andrew Ketterly, had not sounded promising.

"If the wand does not choose you, then nothing will happen," replied the wandmaker. "If it has, however, then anything may happen."

Peter waved the wand, and nothing happened. Instantly Ollivander plucked it from his hand and passed him another, saying, "Not that one, obviously - try this one - aspen, ten inches, and quite rigid."

Once again, Peter waved the wand, and once again nothing happened. Ollivander did not seem to mind this; he simply took back the second wand and handed him a third one, saying, "Perhaps this one - rowan, eleven and a half inches, rather hard - "

Peter waved it, and though it did not actually produce any visible effect, he felt the wand jump in his hand. He started, and stared at it, wondering what it meant. Ollivander seemed to have noticed. "Interesting," he said. "Very interesting. Almost chose you, but not quite. Hum." He stood for a few moments, gazing at the wand that was still in Peter's hand. Then he said, as if to himself, "Why not? It would be a rare thing, but not absolutely unique."

He regarded Peter for another long moment, then moved off to a nearby shelf, and took down a single box. He opened it and walked back up to Peter and handed him the new one. "Try this one," he said. "Elder, fourteen inches, unyielding, with a unicorn hair - try it."

The moment Peter took it, he knew before lifting his hand that this wand had chosen him. His fingers tingled, and he was suddenly aware that great power, for good or evil, lay within his grasp. He raised the wand and brought it down with a flourish. A flash of bright light shone briefly at the end of it, and then went out.

The others applauded, but Ollivander turned at once to Finarfin. "Is this - " he began.

"He is," said Finarfin.

"And the others?" said Ollivander, his eyes widening.

Finarfin merely smiled.

"What are you talking about?" asked Jill.

It was Earwen who answered her. "It was over two hundred years ago that first my daughter Galadriel, whom you shall soon meet, foretold that many Kings and Queens from the far land of Narnia would be sent to dwell among us, and to stand alongside us if war arose. Before that time the Elves had lived mostly in secret, and we hid our long hair and pointed ears and pretended to be Mortal Men, revealing ourselves only to one or two, here and there, over the long years. But when that prophecy was made we took counsel, and began to ready ourselves for your coming. We began to make ourselves known to Men in greater numbers, and even opened our minds to a few, including the worthy house of Ollivander, very learned and mighty in wandlore - "

Garrick Ollivander blushed and bowed. "You do me too much honor," he said.

"Then you've all been waiting and preparing for two hundred years for us to come along so things can start happening?" asked Lucy.

"In effect, yes," said Earwen. "Most of the Elves know that you are all Kings and Queens of Narnia, and so do a few Men, including our excellent wandmaker friend here. We had warned him beforehand that strange things might happen in the choosing of your wands because the favor of the One, or the Lion as you name Him, rests upon you."

There was a long breath of silence as the seven friends of Narnia digested all this and the two Elves said nothing. Then Peter spoke.

"If this is our path," he said. "Then let us have no more delay, and choose our wands - or be chosen by them, as it may be."

Now released from the wonder of discovering that he was serving royalty from another world, Ollivander took the others one by one and followed the same process that he had with Peter. He would take the same odd measurements, and then test out different wands that seemed to "choose" them.

For most of them it only took three or four tries to find the wand that would suddenly react when waved in the air; but poor Eustace went through about ten different wands without success. He was beginning to despair that he would ever find one, and trying hard not to be cross, especially because Ollivander seemed to get happier and happier with each failed attempt. Then, without warning, the eleventh wand jumped out of Ollivander's hand and sailed toward Eustace, who was so surprised that he barely managed to catch it.

"Well, that settles it!" said Olivander, unflappable as ever. "A fine vine wand, and it has obviously chosen its master! Now I understand."

"Forty-nine Galleons, I believe," said Finarfin coming forward, and he paid the wandmaker forty-nine of the gold coins.

They left the shop and returned to Diagon Alley, and once they were in the street, Lucy asked, "Well, where to next?"

"Let me see," said Earwen. "We hardly need more books of any sort, so we can bookstores for another day; we also have a great many kinds of potion ingredients, so we need not bother about the Apothecary; why don't we visit Potage's Cauldron Shop first?"

"What do we need cauldrons for?" asked Edmund.

"For brewing potions," said Earwen. "Every wizard needs a cauldron to brew his concoctions in."

There were all sorts of cauldrons in that shop - lead cauldrons, bronze cauldrons, silver cauldrons, gold cauldrons; little cauldrons that went on one's countertop and big cauldrons that Eustace could have hidden in and all sizes in between. The Elves ignored the Narnian's protests that they didn't really need a cauldron per person and could have shared; they went ahead and bought seven medium-sized bronze cauldrons for two golden Galleons each.

Most of the humans were by now beginning to wonder how Galleons converted to English pounds, and how they would repay Finarfin for all his expense. They didn't have to know the conversion rate to know that the Elves were spending a great deal of money, and were probably not nearly finished yet.

"You shall not repay me," said Finarfin as they left the shop, though none of them had spoken. "It is no use insisting; and anyway I rather doubt that any of you have money."

This was, unfortunately, quite true.

"I think we shall want a few owls," Earwen remarked. "Wizards use them for carrying mail, and they make wonderful friends."

"Certainly friends with plenty of personality," said Finarfin. "Let us visit Eeylops Owl Emporium."

Eeylops Owl Emporium was exactly what it sounded like: a shop full of nothing but all varieties of owls, including Barn Owls, Tawny Owls, Screech Owls, Brown Owls, Snowy Owls, and many more. Some of them were asleep or in general being quiet, but there were enough of them hooting and flapping and banging around in their cages to make it rather hard for anyone else to be heard in there. Still, it was quieter than it might be, as Edmund remarked, though he had to repeat what he had said in a louder voice for the others to hear him above all the noise.

"They're owls, Ed," shouted Eustace. "It's not like we're in a real aviary. Heaven knows that'd be even noisier."

Just then, Jill spotted a large owl with thick black-and-white plumage and large yellow eyes. "Oh, look!" she cried. "Look at that one, the snowy owl over there - " and she pointed at the cage. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Do you want her?" asked Finarfin with an amused smile.

"Can we get her?" asked Jill eagerly.

"Certainly!" said Earwen, and the owl was promptly bought. At Edmund's request a barn owl was also bought, smaller and lighter of build than Jill's snowy owl, and with more colors.

Polly, Peter, and Eustace all chose various screech owls, and Digory selected a fine solid-looking tawny owl. Lucy became very attached to a scruffy-looking chick about the size of a tennis ball, which the manager said would probably grow to be an adult of less then nine inches long. Apparently all the little creature needed was a good home and an attentive owner. Finarfin bought the chick before Lucy even asked him.

After that they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, each of the humans now carrying a cauldron in one hand (with his or her wand inside it) and a cage with an owl in the other hand.

"Where to now?" asked Jill.

"Well, we need more ink and quills and parchment," said Earwen (Why is she the only one who seems to have come with a mental shopping list? wondered Jill). "We had best try Scribbulus."

"Scribbulus?" Digory found this rather amusing. "The shop is called Scribbulus?"

All I can tell you for a fact is that in a shop called Scribbulus Writing Instruments they purchased a great many quills and bottles of ink and rolls upon rolls of parchment, as well as a few journals for good measure.

"That is, I believe, enough for one day," said Earwen. "Back to the Leaky Cauldron we go."

"We're not Flooing again, are we?" asked Edmund with a groan.

"I am afraid we are," said Earwen, placid as a lake on a hot summer day.

Finarfin led the way back to the archway where they had entered Diagon Alley, which appeared in the wall once he knocked on one of the bricks again. Through the courtyard they went and back into the pub, where they made their way to the magical fireplace again. Then, with much ado about nothing (well, that's what Finarfin said when I asked him), they all got themselves and their purchases, including their owls, back to the house in the country without event.

Chapter End Notes

Just so we're totally clear - the wand that chose Peter is not the Elder Wand - that is, the wand of legend, the Deathstick. This is a different wand altogether - if you want proof, Peter's elder wand is an inch shorter and has a unicorn hair core.

Today is International Fanworks Day! How exciting!

When they stumbled through the fireplace in Finarfin's house in the country, they were greeted with a surprise which they weren't sure was pleasant or unpleasant. Another Elf with yellow hair who rather resembled Finarfin had unexpectedly showed up, and had brought with her the last person any of the humans had expected to see.

"Susan?!" gasped Lucy, trying to right herself and at the same time keep hold of her very startled chick's cage.

Susan, who was very white and had been clutching the Elf's hand very tightly, gave them all one look and burst into tears. Lucy promptly dropped all her things (except the cage with the baby owl in it, which she put down carefully) and rushed to embrace her.

"As I was going to say, Susan," said the Elf. "Aro, really, did you forget her entirely? Or did it not occur to you that she might want to be spared the grief of thinking her entire family had perished?"

"They only just came this morning, sister!" Finarfin protested. "I've been occupied!"

"B-but I th-thought you were all on the t-train when it c-c-crashed earlier today," wept Susan on Lucy's shoulder.

"We-ell, we were," admitted Lucy hesitantly, patting the older girl's back. "It's kind of a long story."

"It has to do with Narnia again," said Eustace unceremoniously.

Susan sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "Oh, go on," she said. "Tell me all about it."

The other seven humans all looked at each other as if to say, Here we go again.

"Well, you remember last week we all went down to the Professor's house, don't you?" asked Peter, and launched into a brief account of what had happened during dinner at Digory's home, the subsequent train ride, their brief time in The Real Country, and Aslan's final instructions. Then, with many additions and corrections from the others, he told about the Elves and their visit to Diagon Alley.

"And if you won't believe us this time - " Eustace began.

"Oh, hush, Eustace," said Lucy. "Don't mind him, Su."

"It's all right," said Susan who seemed to be pulling herself together. "Mostly I'm just happy to see you again, though I rather wish I could have been with you when you did go back to Narnia - "

"Oh, you're acknowledging Narnia again?" asked Polly not unkindly.

"It's no use anymore, is it?" said Susan. "All I wanted to get on and move past it, and I didn't like all of you trying to keep me a child for the rest of my life - "

"We did nothing of the sort!" insisted Peter. "None of us were trying to stay children for the rest of our lives, we just weren't trying to pretend we never were."

"And we thought you were turning into an airhead like the ones you were hanging out with," said Edmund.

"Thanks a lot, you two," said Susan.

"Well, it doesn't matter now," said Jill. "As long as you've at least stopped not believing in Narnia, I mean. It's not like we're ever going back - until we've gone there to stay, at any rate."

"But doesn't she need a wand and everything now?" asked Eustace.

("Weird!" muttered Susan under her breath.)

"Of course!" said the Elf who Finarfin had addressed as his sister and whose name was Findis. "But I hardly think any of you are up to Flooing again, so I will take Susan with me."

Which she promptly did. It was two hours before they returned, and by then Earwen had already begun to get the others set up with their own magical supplies.

The days which followed were strange ones for the friends of Narnia. What made them strange, of course, was principally the variety of rather uncanny things they were learning to do. They had thought, at first, that Finarfin and Earwen would be able to help them, but this was not to be.

"We are Elves, and you are Mortals," said Finarfin. "As such, the magic we perform is different from yours. We cannot teach you our charms nor learn your spells. But do not worry; you will have the best of teachers."

This "best of teachers" who came to the house consisted of a tall, dark-haired man by the name of Arathorn and his tall, dark-haired wife Gilraen. They were well versed in many different branches of magic (for apparently there were quite a few different branches of magic). The now eight friends of Narnia were soon quite busy with Charms and Transfiguration and Herbology and Magical Potion-Brewing, with a smattering Ancient Latin Runes, Astronomy (which of course they already knew quite well), Magical Creatures, and Divining the Future. There was also a subject which they called alternatively called Dark Arts and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and neither Arathorn nor Gilraen could clearly define what "Dark" was supposed to mean - except that "Dark Arts" and confirmed evil magic were not quite the same thing, though the terms were apparently used interchangeably (and carelessly) quite a bit in wizard society.

"The whole of magic is grey," said Gilraen when Edmund pressed her about it. "Some shades of grey are almost white, others nearly black, and still others are near the middle. Our hope is to see to it that you can magically defend yourselves against any who may attack you, and for that we will have to teach you some rather unpleasant spells. But I am not worried for you. You all know good from evil, and will not need to be told what magic to avoid and what to embrace."

As it turned out, they had enough to occupy them with the logistics of actually doing the magic without worrying about the ethical particulars just yet.

For example, spellcasting of any sort (Charms and Transfiguration required it the most, and to a lesser degree Defense Against the Dark Arts, or the Dark Arts, as it may have been) seemed to require concentration, practiced hand motions, and perfectly pronounced (usually Latin) incantations. All three had to be timed fairly exactly to get the desired result, and even then it was often the case in the beginning that nothing happened even when you tried to follow the directions you were given as exactly as you could. Only after about the first fortnight or so could all eight of them be assured of getting any kind of result (whether the intended one or otherwise) every time they attempted to cast a spell.

Then there was Potion-brewing (Potions for short), which involved working with all sorts of pickled animals and animal parts and magical plants and smelly mysterious substances. The actual brewing of the potions themselves tended to be more an art than a science. There were all kinds of variables involved in it, which drove Edmund and Eustace in particular mad with impatience, as adding too much or too little of an ingredient, or adding it in at the wrong time, could cause dangerous and sometimes quite painful chemical explosions ("It's Chemistry all over again!" said Susan, quite truly).

Learning magical history and magical creatures and plants (or, more properly, Herbology) was perhaps the most fun, at least when you weren't having any success with spellcasting. It seemed that there existed in England quite a few creatures which they had met back in Narnia - Mer-people, Centaurs, Dwarfs, Unicorns, Giants, Dragons, Sea Serpents, Werewolves, Winged Horses, and even the Phoenix. There were also quite a number of creatures that they had never met in Narnia at all and had never dreamed could be real - Vampires and Fairies and Pixies and House-Elves (quite a different sort from Finarfin and his friends) and Trolls and Leprechauns and Gryphons and Sphinxes. There were creatures that they had never heard of before too - Blast-Ended Skrewts, Flesh-Eating Slugs, Hippogriffs, Grindylows, giant spiders called Acromantulae, and three-headed dogs.

There were two distinct disciplines which had to do with looking into the future: the very general, intuitive Divination, which seemed somewhat dependent on innate ability and so no one could really get a handle on it, and Arithmancy, which involved the use of numbers and was much more logical and straightforward (considering that it was after all magic). There was also, according to Arathorn, another discipline called Xylomancy which hardly anybody bothered with anymore that had to do with twigs, though they didn't have any time left to squeeze any of it in.

Oddly enough, though they did brush up on their knowledge of Astronomy, there seemed to be no such thing as Astrology (divining the future by the placement of the stars), except as practiced by centaurs, and they didn't teach it to humans.

The Ancient Runes they touched on mostly for the purpose of reading and translating ancient scripts that dealt with magical secrets. Nobody except Digory and perhaps Eustace liked learning the Runes at all, and so very little time was spent on them.

But of course what all the friends of Narnia found most disturbing was the Dark Arts, or Defence Against the Dark Arts. Part of this involved learning how to engage in magical combat (or Duelling, as it was apparently known), which was entirely different from combat with swords and spears and bows like they were used to (with the exception of Polly and Digory). Quite aside from having to re-learn all the physical motions that the boys in particular had become used to using in battle, there was also the question of learning spells which, at their mildest, could knock out your opponent out for a few minutes if they didn't block you in time. Perhaps the pleasantest part of this kind of magic was learning the kinds of charms that were purely defensive in nature - like warding spells to guard a building, or secrecy charms that could not be broken by force - and the few Healing spells they learned.

During this time they all learned to their surprise (and discomfort) that there really was such a thing as developing a relationship with one's magic wand. Each of them after the first three weeks or so began to notice a warming sensation in their hand and arm whenever they picked up their wand, and when they tried to use one another's wands the results became worse instead of better. There were also some very subtle differences in the magic that each wand (and the wielder) would produce, noticeable only to the practiced eye of Gilraen and Arathorn, after about a month.

Susan in particular (whose wand was made of black walnut) had a particularly hard time getting her own wand to do anything at all until about a week and a half into their stay. She didn't seem to be doing very well in general; she alternated between vehement denial ("None of this can be real!") and crippling insecurity ("Why does it work for everybody else and not for me?"). Then, on the eleventh day, something about her general mood seemed to change, and suddenly her wand was performing rather gorgeous charmwork with relatively little effort on her own part.

They were all shut up in the house together exhausting themselves with magic for two months solid, and in that time they all became very well acquainted with all the other Elves who lived in Finarfin's house. There were eight of them, besides Finarfin and Earwen - Sanarondo, who everybody jokingly called Finarfin's nanny because he'd apparently looked after Finarfin when he was a child thousands and thousands of years ago; his wife Enyalime, who was expecting; some distant relative of Earwen's called Gaerion; his soon-to-be wife Telpelinde; identical twin brothers Elured and Elurin and their wives Alasse and Helyanwe.

Not all the Elves spoke English, and instead chattered away in their melodic voices in song-like languages that Digory learned were called Quenya and Sindarin. They really were curious creatures, the Elves. The more you looked at them and listened to them, the less human they seemed. They were really far too pretty, with voices much too musical, and powers too strange and radiant eyes full of knowledge. They were much too old too - apparently thousands and thousand of years old - Earwen once mentioned in passing having watched the Remaking of the World, though when Polly wanted to hear more about it she would only say, "Don't you have any charms to practice?"

I am afraid the poor owls would all have starved to death if it had not been for Gaerion and Helyanwe, who took it upon themselves to feed the birds and let them out every so often. The humans were all being kept frantically busy by Arathorn and Gilraen, who insisted that they had a lot of catching up to do before they could even think about venturing out into a world of fully qualified wizards.

"But what are we learning all this for?" asked Peter one day. "Is there a war you want us to fight in?" For a rather disproportionate amount of time was being spent every day on the Dark Arts, especially Duelling.

"There is," said Gilraen briefly, and left it at that for the moment.

Chapter End Notes

So there you have it: Susan has in effect returned to the fold.

I've seen a lot of people get up in arms about the way Susan is seemingly dissed at the end of The Last Battle, especially because of the "lipstick, nylons, and invitations" comment, saying that Lewis was against growing up and against romance and blah, blah, blah. Having myself read the Space Trilogy (Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength), not to mention Till We Have Faces, I can only say that such accusations are quite frankly absurd. For the sake of time (because nobody wants to read a long essay at the end of a chapter) I will deal only with the way I see the so-called "problem of Susan."

Being of the same faith as Lewis himself, a Christian and a Prostestant at that (cue the rotten tomatoes), I believe Susan is meant to represent the believer who has turned their back on God and is "doing their own thing." Now if, once a person is saved, they decide to turn their back on God, they don't lose their salvation (because it's not possible to lose your salvation, no matter how much you may want to or how hard you try); what they lose is temporary fellowship with God. But at the end of the day, that "wayward believer" (Christian term) goes to the same heaven as does the missionary who died for the truth in a Muslim country.

Similarly, the fact that Susan no longer acknowledges that she is a queen of Narnia has no bearing on her actually being a queen of Narnia. Once a queen of Narnia, always a queen of Narnia, remember? For that reason I also would like to point out that even though she's not there with the others when Tirian initially meets them in The Last Battle, she wasn't on the train when it crashed and so is not dead yet. I'm absolutely positive that once she does die she'll come straight to The Real England, and Aslan and her brothers and sisters will be there waiting for her with open arms (in proper Narnia canon, I mean, not this AU).

Also, I'm fairly certain the "lipstick and nylons and invitations" (and probably the romance) are not in themselves what Lewis has a problem with in Susan. I would argue that the message he wants to send to young, impressionable children that there's more to adult life than booze and sex and eye shadow, and at least right now those are the only aspects of adult life that Susan's interested in. Getting together and talking about Narnia doesn't mean that her sister and brothers are trying to emotionally remain there permanently (why else would Aslan send them back at a certain age if not to avoid this?) or that they're trying to cling to their childhood as they grow up.

Here's how I'd put it in a nutshell: when you're a child, read The Chronicles of Narnia. When you've grown up, read the Space Trilogy. And then I dare you to say that Jack Lewis was against love and adulthood.

On quite another note, I'm having a great deal of fun mixing Tolkien characters and Narnian royalty in with the Harry Potter universe! Can't you tell?

By the way, the war Gilraen mentions is not a Voldemort war. I hope it's obvious from the approximate time we're talking about, which "war" I mean

So there you have it! Please leave me a review and tell me what you liked or didn't like.