Author's Notes: As you may be able to tell, I gave up on matching the original Hogwarts classes altogether. I had forgotten that Gryffindors didn't actually share all their classes with Slytherins and looked over the schedule I made, and... decided I didn't really want to make any more changes.

Also, and I can't swear to this, I think JKR once said a thousand students attended Hogwarts? But if you look at who actually gets named in Harry's year, there's somewhere between 30-40 people in one class, which, if it can be considered an average class size, only leads to a total student population of 210-280. I've arbitrarily decided that there are roughly 80 students per year through the graduating class after Harry's, for a general school size of 560 students if you pretend no one ever drops out after their OWLs. The class sizes will start to go up after that, representing a post-war baby boom.

As always, I thank everyone who's been reading this from the bottom of my heart. The positive feedback has been wonderful. I'm sorry the plot is moving so slowly, but it should pick up after I finish the first week of classes.

Chapter Three

Finding the Library of Pergamum, kept secret from muggles by witches and wizards for over two thousand years, wasn't actually that difficult. It was the fact that Peter had to use magic to do it that made him stall for a full week, milling around in the nearby city of Bergama until he finally gave in and apparated to the outside of the library.

The magic on Earth was different and separate from the magic of Narnia because the worlds themselves were so different; Narnian magic came from the Deep Magic, through laws instilled by the Emperor-Over-The-Sea and Aslan when the world was created. Earth magic... well, it just wasn't Narnian.

Peterwas Narnian, that was the problem. It didn't matter that he'd been raised on Earth, his heart and soul were Narnian. If Susan had only just believed and come with them on that train ride, none of his siblings would be here. They'd all four be living happily in Aslan's Country, the true Narnia, facing whatever challenges and discoveries they could find.

Peter sighed. AndthenwherewouldHarrybe? Stillsleepinginacupboard, barelyfedandoverworked? Peter loved his nephew dearly, even if they only saw each other a few times a year when he visited Wayside or Lucy made a concentrated effort to find and meet up with him while bringing Harry along. He was a good boy with a lot of heart, and he'd been raised to carry a deep and abiding love of Aslan, even though the boy had never seen the great lion who had given the Pevensie siblings so much.

He shook his head to clear it of melancholy thoughts and tucked his wand into its holster, the same kind he'd bought Harry for his birthday the year before. The Library of Pergamum was the world's oldest public wizarding library in existence, located in Turkey but easily accessible from anywhere in the world by floo. Peter preferred to travel by muggle means when he could and had gotten as far as the nearest city before the library's rather strong wards kept him from getting any closer on foot.

The front room of the library was tiny, holding only a librarian and his desk to the side and a door at the other end. Peter surrendered his wand to the librarian, who silently logged his entry and waved him onward.

On the other side of the door was a gigantic room, holding shelves filled with books as far as Peter could see in any direction. To his left and right were staircases which led to upper floors that threatened to touch heaven, and directly before him was a statue of Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and, among other things, war carried out for a just cause.

Peter bowed respectfully before Athena's statue. "Lady Athena," he said, his voice quiet and muffled by the hushing spells in place in the building, "I am not one of your followers. But as this is your place of learning and I seek to prevent a war caused by greed and hatred, I would not dismiss any blessing you might offer me."

There was no response; Peter couldn't tell if he had been answered or even heard. Like Aslan, the gods of Earth did not always appear just because someone had spoken to them. Still, it never hurt to be respectful.

Now, Peter thought as he turned to find a book catalog, let me see what I can find out about horcruxes.

Soft paws kneaded at Harry's stomach. He reached a hand forward, a half-hearted swat turning into a long stroke of his cat's fur. Sighing, Harry sat up, dislodging a displeased Helen from her spot on his stomach, and looked around. The room was dim, although the lights surrounding his bed seemed to have noted that he woke up and brightened to a level that would help him see without waking up the other boys. Everyone else was still asleep.

He nearly tripped over Peter's old trunk while stumbling to the bathroom, then had to return to it to gather the toiletries that he hadn't unpacked the night before. It was too soon to need to dye his roots again and the blue contact lenses that Edmund had given him were safe to sleep in, so all Harry had to do was touch up the makeup over his scar and reapply the charm on it. His disguise safely in place, Harry continued on with the things every other person did after waking up before taking a shower.

Blaise moved past Harry into the bathroom as he left. The bedroom was brightly lit, now that everyone had woken up, although Draco seemed to be trying to avoid getting out of bed for as long as he could by burrowing under his covers. Without knowing what the other students would be wearing and figuring it couldn't hurt to make a good impression, Harry dressed as nicely as he could without looking extravagant - black slacks, a white dress shirt with a grey waistcoat over it, and a silver tie pin in the shape of a crown to keep his Slytherin necktie from flying about. Over it all but left open was his school robe, which nearly defeated the purpose of looking nice since it was of a material that was meant to be sturdy rather than flashy. Harry briefly considered changing into something more casual underneath when Blaise rushed back out of the bathroom, dressed just as smartly as Harry was. "I'm leaving for breakfast," he told them bluntly. "Anyone else?"

Harry looked over at Draco, who was only just starting to fumble his way out of bed, then up at Vince, who nodded. "I'm ready," Harry told Blaise as he attached his wand to his holster and grabbed his bag.

"Excellent. Let's see who else is."

Two other first year Slytherins were waiting in the hall, a boy from the other boys' room on the floor and a girl whose name Harry didn't know. The girl was dressed impeccably while the boy had clothes of excellent quality that he wore sloppily; Harry shook his head and tried to stop worrying about what he was wearing.

The girl silently allowed Blaise to take her hand and lead her down the staircase (which Harry still thought led upward, regardless of what it looked like). The other boy walked more slowly next to Harry as Blaise and the girl gained ground ahead of them. Harry introduced himself as they walked down the steps.

"I'm Theodore Nott, but Theo's fine," the boy said. "Did Blaise even bother telling you his name?"

"No, I just remembered it from the sorting."

Theo nodded languidly. "Well, he's Blaise Zabini, and the girl he's pulling along is Tracey Davis, my cousin. They're engaged."

"Do they do the... running off thing a lot?"

Theo shrugged, his shoulders appearing bony even though his shirt and robes. "Tracey doesn't like making decisions, and Blaise likes to do everything immediately. They're well suited."

Walking downstairs, regardless of which direction they were actually going in, was much easier than going up seven flights had been the night before. The common room was buzzing with sleepy children and a few awed first years, all lit by a wavering green light that was different from the steady illumination of the lamps the night before. Harry looked up over at the dark glass wall and nearly stopped in his tracks.

The window, which took up an entire wide wall of the common room, showed them the depths of Hogwarts Lake. It had been dark the night before because the moonlight couldn't penetrate the water that deep, but with the sun in the sky far above, light shone through the window and lit the whole room in a beautiful shade of green. In the lake, Harry could see murky objects moving in the distance and a school of fish passing by quite close to the window pane. Something a bit paler than the green light swam deftly into view and grabbed two fish from the small group before the rest of them scattered. "What's that?" one of the first years near the door gasped.

"Grindylow," said an older boy standing with the group. "The two of you over there make ten and eleven, so let's get a move on."

"What about everyone else?" asked a tall, stocky girl.

"Gems- ah, you lot met Gemma Farley, the other prefect? She'll take them. Come on, I've got to eat before practice, can't wait around all day."

Harrison Nash was a weedy boy, thin and tall the way boys sometimes were after dramatic growth spurts. Once they reached the Great Hall, he left them at the Slytherin table where there were large platters of with heaps of eggs, toast, sausages, and bacon spelled to stay warm and fresh for the duration of breakfast. As Harry sat down, a plate and silverware appeared in front of him, along with a glass of orange juice. By the time he'd filled up his plate with roughly the right amount of food, Harrison had left for the High Table and returned. "Here's your schedules," he told them, setting a stack down by Harry. "Hand those out for me? Fantastic," Harrison said without pause as he grabbed a small stack of toast. "I'll see you lot after Quirrell's done with you."

"Not very prefectly," Theo noticed as Harry flipped through the short stack of papers to find his schedule.

"They're going to be all the same," Blaise said impatiently. "Just take one and pass on the rest." Harry ignored him and found the parchment with his name on it before he handed the remaining schedules to Theo, ignoring Blaise's outstretched hand.

Draco and the rest of the students showed up half an hour later, led by Gemma, just as Harry was finishing up his breakfast. Draco sat next to Harry and switched out the milk that appeared next to his plate for Harry's untouched orange juice. Harry downed the glass almost immediately, grateful for something to drink. "What's our first class?" Draco asked.

"Um," said Harry as he fumbled for his schedule. His bag had an expansion charm on it, so he had to dig around a bit to find the loose sheet of paper. "There! Herbology. Followed by history slash astronomy - how does that work? - and then flying lessons after lunch. And it looks like we share all of our classes with the Gryffindors."

"Ugh. Well, I suppose we'll look even better in comparison. I wonder if we can test out of flying less- no wait, that's probably the only time we'll get a chance to go flying."

"Why don't we ever have classes with Ravenclaws? Or even Hufflepuffs?"

"Why do you care?" Draco drawled as he started in on a toast and egg sandwich.

"I wouldn't mind having a class with Hermione."

"Her- oh, Granger." Draco twisted around to look at the Ravenclaw table, which was right next to theirs, and Harry turned to follow where he was looking. Hermione's bushy brown hair was easy enough to spot. Harry couldn't see her face very well, but it looked like the people around her were carrying on a lively conversation. "Worry about making friends in-house before you start making connections in the other ones."

"It's not about connections, I just want to make sure she's doing all right." It was the sort of thing his mum would want him to do, although Harry didn't say that out loud.

"Do you like her?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed with a scowl. He turned around and thumped Draco on the arm. "What's wrong with you?"

"Ow! Hey, aren't you two supposed to stop that kind of thing from happening to me?" Draco demanded of Vince and Greg, who were sitting across from them. Vince either ignored him or didn't hear at all as he shoveled food into his mouth. Greg shrugged but gave Harry a discrete thumbs-up when Draco made an exasperated noise and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

Gemma led the Slytherin first years from the Great Hall to the Herbology greenhouse the same way she had led them to the common room the night before, pointing out landmarks and changing staircases they would need to be wary of, and took off the moment they'd been delivered with a promise to see them after lunch. Professor Sprout smiled from her position over the plant she was caring for when she saw them enter and waved them in. "Don't be shy!" she called out from further into the greenhouse. "Come on in!"

The greenhouse held a great deal of plants, most of which Harry didn't recognize. His mother had proclaimed him to have a 'black thumb' at any early age and wouldn't let him anywhere near Wayside House's garden, where they grew magical plants for potions and more mundane ones to eat with their food.

The Slytherins all moved to stand behind one of two long tables. There were no chairs, so the children fidgeted in place or leaned on the table. When the first Gryffindor walked in, the majority of the Slytherins stood as straight and solid as if the Minister of Magic were looking at them, and the rest followed suit quickly. The Gryffindor who had come in, a short boy with a nervous demeanor, looked at the twenty-one students wearing green and silver and blanched. "Am I- am I late?" he managed to ask, catching the professor's attention.

"Not at all, Slytherins are just nearly always early," Sprout comforted him. "Over behind the other table, dear, I'm sure your housemates will be along shortly."

The boy did as he was told and brightened upon seeing the plant that Sprout was working on. "Oh, is that a venus mantrap?"

"Suck up," Draco muttered.

"Oh dear," Daphne murmured, her voice so low that Harry could barely hear it although he was just on Draco's other side. "Jealous of a Gryffindor? Or maybe just upset that he knew something that you didn't."

"Don't be surprised to find your bed full of frogs one night, Queengrass," Draco warned her in a low tone, his fingers twitching near the wand he carried in a holster by his waist.

Daphne chose to ignore the insult to her name - which Harry frankly didn't get, as he couldn't see how it was meant to be insulting - and instead said, "All talk, no action."

Draco's face twisted up into an angry sneer that smoothed immediately when Pansy hissed, "Hush, both of you!" A moment later, Professor Sprout looked over from her conversation with the Gryffindor boy; she only saw the Slytherins engaged in quiet conversations and turned back.

Harry decided to distract Draco from his feud with Daphne and started talking to him about broom models, an old favorite topic of theirs. Gryffindors continued to trickle in at a slow rate, but there were only ten of them in the greenhouse by the time the bells rang to signal the beginning of the first block of classes.

Everyone turned to Professor Sprout once the bells quieted and allowed them to speak again. "Just a few more minutes," she told them. "I give a bit of a grace period during the first week of classes, since none of you know the school yet. Mind you don't take advantage!"

After five minutes, Professor Sprout began the class and only admonished the children who arrived late. She spent the time telling them about her grading policy and handing out syllabi that were smudged with her dirty fingerprints. Draco handled the piece of parchment with a disgusted look while Harry looked over his and slid it into his herbology book. The dirty parts were only actual dirt and soil, after all.

The Gryffindors scattered quickly once the lesson was over, while the Slytherins grouped together outside of the greenhouse and waited for a prefect to guide them to their next class. When no one arrived after ten minutes, Blaise asked loudly to be heard over the group, "Was it Farley or Nash that was supposed to come get us?"

"It was Nash, wasn't it?" one of the girls called out. "Farley said she'd see us after lunch."

Harry had a terrible feeling as he spoke up, "Yeah, but didn't Nash say he'd be picking us up from Professor Quirrell's?"

There were a few seconds of silence before chatter broke out. "Which one's Quirrell?" "Isn't he the Defense teacher?" "I thought we didn't have Defense until tomorrow!" "Snape's going to murder someone, and it had better not be me."

Harry thought about going back into the greenhouse when he spotted a familiar head of ridiculous hair coming towards them, dressed in a black robe with a blue and silver badge and necktie. "Hermione!" He walked quickly towards her, and she sped up a bit once she saw him. "Hey, did you just have history? Or astronomy, or whatever it's meant to be?"

"It's history one week and then astronomy the next, Professor Selwyn will explain it to you," Hermione told him. "How was herbology?"

"Fine, listen - the prefect who was meant to take us there has buggered off- swanned off," he corrected himself when he saw Hermione's offended expression, "sorry. But we don't know how to get there, and Professor Snape will get upset if we're late."

"And he'll take it out on Farley, who will take it out on us," concluded Draco, who had walked over. "Hello, Granger."

"Malfoy," Hermione said, giving him a friendly nod. "It's pretty easy, but you should hurry - just go in that entrance there and follow the left wall. It's at the top of the third staircase, on your left. If you hit a balcony along the wall, just wait a minute for the stairs to move towards you."

"Thanks, I owe you - guys, this way! I got directions!"

They weren't the first to arrive but they certainly weren't the last. The moving staircase confused most of the Gryffindors and students were still finding the classroom half an hour after the class bells rang. Professor Selwyn was perfectly unaffected and didn't even bother trying to talk about what they'd be doing during the year.

"Just be here on time Wednesday, aye?" she told one of the late students cheerfully. "What's your name, so I can mark you as present?"

"Lavender Brown," said the straggler, nearly falling into one of the desk chairs. "I'm really sorry, professor. I swear I was asking the portraits for help, but they kept sending me to a room with this ghost who kept talking about goblins, and I finally found a prefect who sent me the right way."

"You met old Binns!" exclaimed Selwyn delightedly. "Is he really still trying to teach? He was the history professor until a few years back."

"When he died?" Miles, one of the Slytherins, asked tactlessly.

"No no, he died decades ago," Selwyn assured him. Miles did not look reassured. "A few years ago the school found the budget to hire on a professor who was actually alive and would want their salary. Any of the fourth years and older can talk to you about Binns, if you really want to know. Goodness, I think he's taught every single professor."

Near the end of the class, Selwyn explained that they would have astronomy during that particular time next week, and history again the week after that. "I'll assign a few chapters of reading on Friday and quiz you the Monday you're back with me. Yes yes, don't groan like that, you sound ridiculous. It's only a bit of reading. Wait until a day or two before the class so you don't forget it all."

Afterwards, they were left to do as they liked or find their way to the Great Hall for lunch since their third class didn't start for another hour. The Gryffindors scattered into pairs or threes while the Slytherins stuck together to try to find the Great Hall, save for Blaise, who needed something from his room, and Tracey, who apparently never left Blaise's side if the two of them could help it.

With the help of a few portraits, they found the Great Hall fairly easily. The first years scattered up and down the Slytherin table to sit with family or friends in the upper years; Draco, Harry, Vince, and Greg all sat together in a small cluster on the far end of the table. Harry spotted Hermione as he walked down the length of the table and would have waved, but she was sitting alone and seemed deeply involved in a rather large book.

Their third class block was taken up by flying lessons. It was the easiest class to locate by far, since it took place on the quidditch pitch and all they had to do was head toward the towering spectator stands and the huge goal hoops. The Gryffindor boy who had shown up early for Herbology class, whose name Harry never caught, was standing by himself on the pitch despite the fact that there were several small groupings of Gyffindors dotted around him. He was staring at a small red orb despairingly as Harry and his friends approached, moaning, "What did I forget this time?"

"Really, Longbottom," Draco sneered, "a remembrall?" Longbottom glanced up at Draco, startled and slightly afraid, before tucking the red, glass ball into the pocket of his robe. Harry thought he glimpsed its color change to white in the moment between leaving Longbottom's fingers and slipping into the pocket.

"What's a remembrall?" Harry asked as they reached Pansy and her female friends.

"Tells you that you've forgotten something by turning red," Pansy told him. "It doesn't say what you're forgotten, though, so they're a bit useless. I am not looking forward to this class in the least."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. "I love flying."

"Sitting astride is impossible with a skirt," said Daphne. "And if you want a broom with the charms to keep you on while sitting side saddle, you have to have it custom ordered."

"I suppose expense might-" Draco started, but Pansy interrupted him to hiss, "I swear to Merlin, Draco Narcissus Malfoy, if you get us in trouble for not showing a united front, I will write to your mother."

Draco's face flashed a wounded expression before he covered it up with a sneer. "I suppose I'll just stick to picking at Gryffindors instead."

"You go right ahead."

"Fine," Draco snapped. He folded his arms across his chest and took a few very long strides away to join in on a conversation between Millicent Bulstrode, Miles Bletchley, and Psyche Clearwater.

Harry debated following his friend as Vince and Greg had, but stayed with the girls in order to ask Daphne, "I'm sorry if this is rude, but what's Draco's problem with you?"

"It is rude."

"Daphne!" Daphne sent Pansy a mulish glare. "If you don't tell him your side of the story, he's only ever going to hear Draco's side."

Daphne watched Pansy for another silent moment before sighing explosively. "Fine! But it's not my side of the story, it's what actually happened. Not that it's any of your business."

Harry nodded, almost sorry that he had asked.

Daphne brushed her palms down her robes to make sure the cloth swept down in a clean line before looking up at Harry again. She spoke quietly, her calm voice a complete contrast for her earlier anger. "When I was three years old," she began, "my family and the Malfoys arranged a marriage between myself and Draco. We got along back then, as well as you can when you're only three. My mother and Draco's mother, Narcissa, are very good friends, and we saw each other quite often.

"Around my ninth birthday, my father, who is England's ambassador to Spain, recieved a proposal to marry me to the third prince of Spain's royal family when I became of age. He broke off my contract with the Malfoys entirely in favor of this new one, which upset Draco's father. Our mothers tried to keep our families connected by forming a new contract between Draco and my younger sister Astoria, but Lucius continues to turn it down."

That at least explained why Draco kept putting the word 'queen' in her name. "I'm sure Draco would have understood if you'd explained the situation to him. Why's he upset with you?"

Daphne scowled and looked away; Pansy sighed and said, "This part, I was there for. Our parents had set up a playdate with us and some of the other children, and when Draco arrived, he came stomping in with his usual... theatrics," Harry nodded to show that he completely understood, "ranting about how Daphne had betrayed him. And of course that upset Daphne-"

"Naturally," Daphne inserted.

Pansy nodded at her friend. "Naturally. And they just haven't been on good terms since," she finished.

"Hello, children," someone called out. The Slytherins immediately quieted as a teacher walked up carrying a bag on her bag that held several dozen brooms; the Gryffindors took a little longer to shut up and most had to stand from where they'd been sitting on the grass. "I'm your instructor, Professor Hooch," the woman said. She had pointed features and quick eyes that reminded Harry of a predatory bird. "Each of you come get a broom. Come on, I don't have all day. Once you have one, line up side by side and place it on the ground in front of you, like so. Don't bother trying to find the best one," she told Blaise, who had arrived with Tracey just in time for the beginning of class and now picked through the brooms with a discerning eye. "They're school brooms, they're all equally terrible. Those of you in skirts can sit today's flying out, but pay attention to today's class and come in trousers next time."

The class then proceeded to go through the same basic beginner exercises that Susan had taught Harry when he was seven. Harry's broom snapped up into his hand when he called it and he mounted it easily. All the boys and the five girls who had thought to wear trousers to the lesson were soon on their brooms, and in one boy's case, floating slowly up toward the sky.

"I can't control it!" Longbottom called out to Hooch, frightened.

"Oh, Merlin," she muttered, and mounted her own broom to go bring him down. Unfortunately, Longbottom panicked, flailed, and fell of his broom before she could reach him, hitting the ground with a sharp crack that cut through the quiet laughter and mockery. The broom continued on its own slow journey upward and onward, out to the Forbidden Forest. Hooch rushed over to Longbottom's side, declared that he had a broken wrist, and warned them all not to do any flying before she helped him onto her own broom and flew Longbottom back to the school.

Harry started walking to Draco to ask him for his own side of Daphne's story when Draco's eyes alit and the blonde boy jogged off toward something that glinted in the grass. Harry paused, unsure of whether he should follow, when Draco scooped up the item and held it up. "Longbottom's remembrall!" he declared nastily. Harry recognized the tone from several times when he or one of Draco's parents upset his easily injured pride. That tone of voice had always preceded something breaking or a verbal lashing out at Harry where Draco said spiteful things that he never really meant. "What do you think?" he asked the Slytherin side. "Should I toss it in the lake? Leave it up a tree?"

Most of the Slytherins froze indecisively. Snape's warning about 'Slytherin is one' had been short but memorable, and no one wanted to disagree with Draco when he was making a public scene. At the same time, no one wanted to get punished either. From behind, Harry heard an unladylike snort that he thought might have belonged to Daphne and heard Pansy curse very quietly, "Oh, god of muggles, what is he doing?"

"You stop that right now, Malfoy!" shouted a redheaded Gryffindor boy.

"Or what?" Draco responded. "You'll throw your secondhand robe at me?" That was fairly standard for one of Draco's insults - his words weren't particularly well chosen, but the point he'd decided to make fun of was spot on. The Gryffindor boy's face turned nearly the same color as his hair. Seeing that he'd scored, Draco continued, "Actually, that sounds terrifying - who knows where that robe has been?"

Harry's instincts - the same ones Susan had berated him for not keeping in control, saying that they would make him into a well-loved martyr but a dead man all the same - took over and made Harry break into a sprint. He ran between the two boys and flung his arms out, facing the redhead. Harry glimpsed Draco before he turned and saw that he was surprised but lowering his wand, unlike the redhead, who didn't seem to care which Slytherin ended up being his target. The redhead began to yell, "Conf-"

"MISTER WEASLEY!" a woman shrieked.

Everyone turned to face the source of the voice, including Harry. Professor McGonagall was running toward them and looked angry enough to spit. "I don't know what spell you were about to cast, and I suspect that I don't want to!" she said fiercely as she finished her approach at a brisk walk. "Even the least of the spells starting with that syllable is enough to have you in detention, and that is where you'll be tonight, with Mr. Filch!"

"But Malfoy-" Weasley started.

"I don't care for your excuses, young man! Five points from Gryffindor! And as for the rest of you!" Slytherin and Gryffindor alike watched the professor warily. "A point each from every Gryffindor for not stopping your housemate." McGonagall continued over their groans and protests. "When Madam Hooch asked me to watch over her class while she took Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing, I most certainly wasn't expecting any of this. I'm ashamed of all of you."

She turned to Harry, who was still in front of Draco. "Mr.- I'm afraid I can't recall your family name."

"Pevensie, ma'am," said Harry. He hoped she hadn't been speaking to Draco for several reasons, not the least of which was that Draco always took it poorly when people didn't know he was a Malfoy.

"Mr. Pevensie, five points to Slytherin for defending a fellow housemate." Even though she was awarding points, her voice was severe and she looked past Harry sharply. Harry thanked her anyway.

Hooch returned shortly and thanked McGonagall, who explained what had happened. Hooch nearly forbade Weasley from participating in the class, but McGonagall said he'd been punished enough. Hooch started the class up again with a sharp call to, "Line back up now, quickly!" as McGonagall left for the castle.

The class was nothing Harry hadn't done before on the grounds of Wayside House or playing around with Draco at Malfoy Manor, but it was still good to be on a broom, in the air. Harry obligingly performed the easy maneuvers that Hooch demonstrated for them and yearned for the races, obstacle courses, and mock quidditch matches that she promised them they would be doing later in the year.

None of the first years had a class in their fourth block except on Fridays, so Harry decided to try and find Hermione and see how she was settling in. He'd planned on seperating from his friends on the assumption that none of them cared much about a girl they'd barely met, but Draco surprised him by deciding to come along. Vince and Greg declined and sat right down in the grass to play with a set of gobstones that Greg had been keeping in his pocket.

"I bet she's in the library, she loves books," Harry told Draco as they re-entered the castle.

"She might be in the Ravenclaw rooms, we as may as well ask - oi, Li, is it?" Draco called over to a small, Asian girl in Ravenclaw blue and silver who had been walking by.

"Yes?" she asked timidly, not coming any closer to the two boys.

"Don't suppose you know where Granger is?" At her blank look, Draco continued, "First year, Ravenclaw, bushy hair, ridiculous teeth?" Harry rolled his eyes. "She's sort of hard to miss."

"Oh. Um, she went to... the library?" Li twitched a hand in the direction she'd just come from.

"Makes sense," said Harry before Draco could respond. "Thank you." Li nodded and scurried off down the hall.

Harry looked to Draco as they walked. "You definitely need those etiquette classes."

"I do not," Draco protested. "I just didn't have any particular reason to be polite, she's something like sixtieth down in line to taking over the Li family."

"You could be nice on the basis that we'll be in the same school together for seven years."

"Can't be bothered. Anyway, she seems like the type that's more likely to be scared of me than angry."

Harry could have continued, but it usually wasn't worth it to argue with Draco over small things. He gave up.

They found the library after asking directions from an upper year Gryffindor several hallways down, who looked at them suspiciously but told them where it was. They spotted Hermione as soon as they walked in and went to her.

Hermione didn't notice either of them until they sat down, when she looked up with startled eyes before smiling broadly at them. "Hello!" she said happily, if quietly. "Did you have any trouble getting to Professor Selwyn's classroom? Oh, but keep your voices down, Madame Pince hexed the last person who was noisy and tossed him right out."

"Your directions were great, thanks again."

Draco stole Hermione's book and slid it across the table so that he could look at it. Hermione grabbed for it too late but seemed hesitant to reach across the table to take it back. "'An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms.' Granger, why are you reading this? None of us have even had a Charms class yet."

"Professor Flitwick referees spelling bees every Friday between fourth block and dinner. With actual spells, of course, not with..." Hermione trailed off for a moment, probably realizing she shouldn't talk about muggle spelling bees, and continued with, "Well, anyway, I'm having trouble talking to people in my house, so I thought winning might make people come to me for help with things, and I can use those interactions to make friends. I wrote it all out," she said eagerly, opening a roll of parchment and sliding it in front of Harry.

Harry studied the list with a mix of confusion and amusement. There was a timetable involved.

"You don't make friends by being better than everyone else," Draco said, his tone carrying the weight of countless Malfoy generations. "That's how you get followers." Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and opened her mouth to speak, but Draco continued, "Not to say followers are worse than friends, they're generally better. A man in power should have few friends and countless followers, Father says."

"I don't want followers." Hermione didn't look to know whether or not she should be taking Draco seriously.

"Well, no one wants friends who are better at everything. You'd be better off throwing the match if that's your goal."

"Fail on purpose!" said Hermione, horrified but still hushed.

"This is frightening and should be burned," Harry said, handing the parchment back to Hermione. "Look, if you can't make friends in Ravenclaw, you can always spend time with us."

"Could we have a study group?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"No," said Draco, just as Harry said, "Yes." They stared at each other briefly; when they broke gazes, Draco rolled his eyes and Harry told Hermione, "We'll get back to you on that."

"You don't have to."

Draco stood up. "Like Harry said, he'll think about it. I'm going to explore the castle before dinner. Harry?"

"Yeah." Harry slid the charms book back across the table. "See you, Hermione."

"Bye, you two. Thank you for stopping by!"

Draco's idea of exploring the castle turned out to actually be trying to find and climb to the highest point in the building. They managed to make it to the top of what a passing ghost informed Harry was the West Tower before having to turn back for dinner in the Great Hall.

"Saturday we should be free, we'll find one even higher then," Draco told Harry. "And next time we have to bring Greg, he's got this ridiculous fear of heights that he'll have to get over if he wants to be beater on the quidditch team."

Harry knew Draco well enough to ask, "Does Greg even want to be a beater?"

"I want him to be a beater, that's good enough for me," Draco sniffed. "I plan on being seeker, and I don't trust anyone other than him and Vince to look out for me."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't try that, you're obviously not beater material. Do you even want to join the team?"

Harry had thought about trying out, but his favorite position was seeker and that was certainly the same position that Draco would be going for. "Does it matter? The point's moot until next year anyway."

Draco eyed Harry.. "I suppose." His gaze darted to Harry's left. "Good evening, professor."

Harry echoed the sentiment as he turned to see Snape looking down at them over his hooked nose.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Pevensie," said Snape in return. "Curfew is at nine o'clock sharp, are you aware of this?"

Harry hadn't known that at all, but chorused, "Yes, sir," with Draco all the same.

"Good. I will meet both of you in the smaller addressing room - the one I spoke to all of you in last night - at nine o'clock sharp. If you are not there at that time, I will assume you are not in the Slytherin rooms at all and are breaking curfew, which you will be punished for. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape gave them a satisfied nod. "Enjoy your meal." With a sharp turn and a flare of his robe, Snape turned from them and entered the Great Hall.

Harry and Draco looked at each other. "It's probably about what happened at the flying lessons," Draco said. "I didn't do anything wrong, you did something right, why does he want to see me too?"

"Dunno, but you're not leaving me to face him alone."

Draco scowled. "I wouldn't!" He jutted his chin into the air and walked briskly into the Great Hall.

Harry jogged for a moment to catch up with Draco, then met his pace. "Because of our friendship, or because Professor Snape would take points and Farley would murder you?"

A tiny smile cracked Draco's proud expression. "The second, obviously."

Peter didn't know whether it was luck, Aslan's guiding paw, or a blessing from Athena, but it took him less than a day to find information on horcruxes.

The book catalog was magical and finicky, prone to flipping to another card the instant Peter put his fingers on the one he wanted, but it was helpful nonetheless. A children's book that Peter had thought would be useless turned out to have folklore about a wizard with a horcrux and several books listed on cards Peter had to snatch from the jaws of the catalog ended up being no help at all. After that, Peter just gave the catalog 'horcrux' as a search term and collected whatever books it recommended.

A horcrux was a split soul, which Peter already knew from his previous research and inquiries into Voldemort and the story of what happened to Harry the night his parents died. There were tales of wizards and witches who created horcruxes successfully, but they were all either destroyed or had faded into obscurity. One paper on the theory of the matter gave statistics to show that no one with a horcrux ever lived longer than a natural lifespan - circumstances would rise up to destroy both parts of the soul with a century of its splitting.

Peter also read on theories of the idea of creating more than one horcrux. Creating one by itself seemed like madness - what fool would literally tear his own soul apart? - but creating more than one only seemed to Peter to be folly. The first horcrux would naturally be an even split of the soul, so that there would be two halves. A second horcrux would split one of those halves into two, so that the wizard creating them would have two horcruxes, one with half a soul and one with a quarter, and only a quarter of his own soul would remain within him. The next would reduce the amount within the wizard to an eighth of its original size and so on. Half a soul seemed terrible; how could someone with less than that even function and pretend to be a human being?

Then again, Voldemort never acted like a human being. There were reports that the man had had red eyes and a snake-like face, with skin so pale it might have been bleached. Peter had assumed it had been the result of some glamour to frighten others, but perhaps he'd actually lost most of that thing which made him human? And he certainly seemed mad and cruel enough, by the end, to make Peter believe that Voldemort had been acting with only a tiny fraction of his soul.

He could've been wrong. The signs pointed to Voldemort having created a horcrux, but perhaps he hadn't. And even if he did, there was no real reason to think that he would have created more than one.

But it seemed right to Peter, and if there was anything he had learned while in Narnia, it was to have faith. Peter needed to have faith in himself and his actions, and faith that Aslan would let him know if he was going down the wrong path to properly protect his nephew.

Now thoroughly grounded on the subject of horcruxes, Peter began to write up his findings to send to Susan. He would stay for the next week and continue searching for any more helpful information, and after that, it would be up to her to figure out how to find the pieces of split soul. Another week before Peter could continue in his travels around Earth, waiting for Susan to redeem herself so that she could end her duty of helping lost souls and leave Wayside House.

He would wait until the time that he and all three of his siblings could return to Narnia.