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

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Chapter 2

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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.