Disclaimer: Characters and premise of Harry Potter belong to JKR

Disclaimer: Characters and premise of Harry Potter belong to JKR. Characters and premise of Chronicles of Narnia are property of CS Lewis. My interpretations are my own.

A/N: Watched the first HP again, and was inspired. Falls between 'In the Paper' and 'Shield of David'.

Summary: So, naturally, the whole school knows. A trip to Diagon Alley has the Pevensies finding that more people know about them than they had planned for.

A COMPLETE SECRET

"Excuse me."

"Yes?" Edmund knew he stood out horribly, jeans and button-down shirt against masses of swirling robes. He waited for the witch, polite as she seemed, to say so; she wouldn't be the first person who had asked if he was a Muggle waiting for a child in a shop.

"Would you be Edmund Pevensie?"

Or not. "Yes," he managed, flailing for verbal footing. This was only his first trip to Diagon Alley. More importantly, how does she know who I am?

"I'm Amelia Bones, Susan's aunt."

And the head of the DMLE. Edmund remembered that square-jawed face now, the monocle and grey hair from an article in the Daily Prophet some weeks back; commenting on the so-called 'Sirius Black affair'. "Nice to meet you."

And it was – Bones had been one of the few members of the government to go on record and denounce the gross violation that had robbed Sirius of his rights under law. Her niece, Susan Bones, was a redheaded Hufflepuff in Harry's year.

"I'd like to speak with you, if I may." Polite, but steel was more than a gleam in her eye.

She certainly deserves her job. And her reputation as a tough-as-nails taskmaster, but Edmund just smiled. Susan cares about her, and she loves her niece. Good enough for me. He waved a hand toward Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. "Shall we?"

Ensconced at an outside corner table moments later with vanilla and fudge melting in a dish in front of him, Edmund smiled at her. "What can I do for you?"

Amelia swallowed a spoonful of butter-pecan ripple. "I wanted to talk to you about Susan."

Susan's entire family had been killed in Voldemort's rising – and leaving her aunt to come to school every year had been hard for her. Edmund had spoken with her, and Lucy had done her best to help as well. 'Girl talk', his sister had said. That's all I need to know. "How is she? Is she having a good summer?"

"Looking forward to her fourth year." A smile found its way onto Amelia's face, transforming the hard planes into something more welcoming. Another spoonful of ripple disappeared; metal scraped the glass dish thoughtfully. "She's always been subdued. She was quite young, and with me, actually, when Edgar's family was killed." The no-nonsense mouth compressed, blood draining from her cheeks. "I had hoped she was too young to understand, but -"

"She never told me how old she was." Edmund toyed with melting vanilla, swirling the fudge and blending the flavors into a nougat-colored soup. I think I'm losing my taste for sweets. Grim conversations had that effect on him.

"Seven," Bones said shortly.

"Seven?" He shut his mouth. Voldemort had been defeated six years before – why on earth would- It doesn't make any sense! But Edmund could only repeat, dumbly, "Seven?"

Amelia's ice-cream dish skittered across the tabletop, halting mere centimeters from the edge. "It was a revenge-killing." The words sliced the air brutally. "My brother Edgar was once a member of the Order of the Phoenix, during Voldemort's rise."

Order of the Phoenix? But there was no time for questions, and Amelia didn't pause.

"Even after the Dark Lord's disappearance, and the capture and disbanding of many of his Death Eaters, there would occasionally be . . . incidents. Isolated, seemingly pointless incidents of violence, perpetrated against those who had fought for the Light." The broad frame was quivering, brown eyes flashing furious fire. "Individuals styling themselves as the Voldemort reborn, or the next Dark Lord, would rise and gather the Death Eaters – not the more prudent ones, like Malfoy or Dolohov, or even Snape."

Ice cream splattered in a wide arc over the tabletop, the dish rolling off the edge with an ominous crack of glass against cobblestones. But Edmund's voice wouldn't reappear. Lips formed the name without freeing it.

Half-hidden behind a monocle, brown eyes narrowed. "You didn't know?"

His throat was a desert. "It appears," Edmund croaked, "that Dumbledore forgot to mention a great many things this year."

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement gave their surroundings a stern, assessing glare. Her voice lowered correspondingly. "Severus Snape was a Death Eater during the rise of the Dark Lord. He worked as a double agent for many years, as it served his interests to do so – and few are certain where his loyalties truly lie."

Fingers gripped dark hair so tightly Edmund half-wondered if he'd be bald by the time the conversation was over. "I see." I see that Dumbledore is either more trusting or more foolish than I thought. And perhaps he's right. Perhaps Snape is on the side of the Light. But he never told us.

On the heels of that thought came another. Should he have?

Bones shrugged. "He's an unpleasant man, but Dumbledore's word is good enough for me. Had I any doubts, he wouldn't be teaching Susan."

He'd probably be in Azkaban. Given the look on the woman's face, it was not a far-fetched possibility.

"Scourgify. Reparo." The reassembled ice-cream dish rested on the sparkling surface between them.

"Thank you."

Bones nodded at him, silent for a moment. "But I wanted to talk to you about Susan. I noticed that she had changed quite a lot this year, and she mentioned you and your family."

A sudden chill swirled through his marrow. He hadn't thought their association with Hogwarts would bring them this much attention – the Head of the Ministry's Magical Law Enforcement . . . Aslan. I didn't think at all. Those children weren't cut off from the outside world, from their families, just because they were at boarding school for months!

And the cold spread when he realized that Peter and Lucy hadn't thought about it either. "Did she?" he asked, suddenly aware that he had been quiet far too long, and the monocle was taking in every hesitation.

"Yes," was the definite answer. She's good. He couldn't read anything in her face, and years at court were good training for that. Even so, it appeared to be nothing against Auror training. I'm in so much trouble. Help. "She was curious, because she couldn't figure out what spells Dumbledore might put on you to make you impervious to all magic."

And she wanted to know why her family hadn't had that kind of protection. Edmund read Amelia Bones' dark expression easily. "I'm sorry."

The stout frame started against the chair-back; the motion turned into a languid stretch. "For?"

Does she squeeze blood from stones for a living? Oh, right, head of the DMLE – of course she does. Silly me. And of course she's going to make me say it. But any irritation he tried to feel was swallowed instantly by the guilt weighting his stomach. "The questions Susan must have asked about why her family couldn't have been protected as well."

"She believes it's because you are Muggles," Bones replied thinly. Sturdy, calloused hands rested on the tabletop, bare centimeters from polished oak. "I for one don't know what spells Albus found for you, but I trust him when he says it's a special circumstance."

Right. Mouth dry, Edmund nodded. "You could say that." So much for diplomacy. Where's Peter gone haring off to when you need him?

"I suppose all this is rather unsettling for you."

"Not really," Edmund admitted honestly. Travel through a wardrobe and rule a magical land for over a decade, and even finding out another world exists under your own doesn't come as much of a shock. "But I'm surprised to find that someone such as yourself would think that."

The monocle seemed to open up his skin and take a good look inside his soul. Edmund kept his expression pleasant with ease. Nothing to one of Su's lectures, or Peter's glares.

"I knew many Muggle-borns at Hogwarts," the head of the DMLE said slowly. "And I have some contact with Muggles through the Ministry, in addition to a few friends who are Squibs living as Muggles. It's easy enough to see that the people aren't that different, even if their worlds are."

"Which is why my family is at Hogwarts," Edmund said evenly. If she thinks we're unfit to be there, or a danger to Susan, this woman could be as great a threat as Voldemort. And we really don't need to be persecuted by both sides of the Wizarding World. "You have this experience, but the students don't. And if we can give it to those who won't end up taking Muggle studies, or help the Muggle-borns fit in better with the Wizarding children, Dumbledore hopes to dissolve some of the prejudice and hatred in both our societies."

"But that's not all you do."

Time for pretty words, Edmund. But if it wasn't from the heart, this woman would see right through it. Wing it. "No," he sighed. "In the Muggle world, I'm a counselor for children. Not only for cases of abuse, but for children who need to be convinced that there's a reason to tell right from wrong." He spread empty hands over the table. "We just want to help." For him, in the face of what he could do for the children, hiding from Voldemort was secondary.

The long silence between them grew gradually easier. "You have my gratitude," Amelia Bones said quietly.

And Edmund knew she meant they had much more than that as well. He knew how important allies were in any battle – and the one they might face, if Voldemort should rise again, would prove their worth. So he smiled, and said the only thing he could. "You're welcome."

When her form slipped into the undulating mass of wizards clogging Diagon Alley, Edmund finally let himself slouch back in the chair in front of Fortescue's. My first trip to Diagon Alley. He poked the glass dish ruefully. And I can't wait to go home.

Creaking metal cages could not completely drown out the rustling of feathers. Small hoots and the noise of claws shifting against wooden perches filled her ears. Lucy smiled.

"Ahh, you must be Lucy Pevensie!"

I haven't seen him before, she confirmed silently as the beaming, middle-age wizard came out from behind the counter of Eeyelops Owl Emporium. He didn't look familiar. Have I?

"I'm sorry," she smiled politely. "Have we met?"

"No, no!" laughed the older man. Owl droppings spotted woebegone green robes, and a thick beard trimmed a round face full of laugh lines. "I'm Ethan Eeyelops, owner of the Emporium. Hagrid's told me all about you – the lass that's teaching Care of Magical Creatures with him, down at Hogwarts! I've been wanting to meet you!"

"It's a pleasure," she smiled, shaking his hand. A glance around the store showed signs asking visitors not to touch the owls, as well as mostly-clean cages and full water and food dishes. The scent of bird was thick in the air, but it was a fresh, earthy smell that Lucy was accustomed to. Everywhere she looked were glossy feathers and sharp eyes. He takes good care of his owls. She approved.

"How can I help you today, Miss Pevensie?"

"It's just Lucy." A glance showed her no books or pamphlets on care, as she would expect in a Muggle pet store, but she supposed that was only to be anticipated. "I'm actually looking for information on generic care for owls, and perhaps also some species-specific care. I've noticed that Hagrid takes care of the school owls, but since he's begun teaching he really doesn't have time to look after them properly. I want to help him, but I have little experience with raptors." Sparrows, griffins, hippogriffs, and little else. Too wide a range. Chickens are not owls.

"Ahh," Ethan murmured, scratching at a salt-and-pepper sideburn. The round wizard moved quickly behind the counter again, pulling out parchment and paper. "I know some books that might be useful to you," he continued as the quill began scratching. The list was some seven items long before the feather – an eagle-owl feather – stopped. "But after you have the book knowledge, there's no real substitute for experience."

"Believe me, I know." Lucy rolled her eyes. That's one lesson I won't forget in a hurry.

"Sounds like a story behind that one," Eeyelops encouraged. The shorter wizard was grinning, elbows leaning against the wooden counter. A few of the birds were eyeing her curiously.

"But only one you'll ever get out of my brothers," she told him primly. The half-hidden disappointment at that was enough to have her slipping him a grin between cages. "Edmund's at Fortescue's, but Peter might be around, if you really want to know."

"Ah, yes, Hagrid mentioned your brothers. They helped you care for a stray in the Forest, did they?" Eeyelops' tone indicated that this was a good thing.

Sirius. Careful. From what she'd gathered, Animagi were rare, and Sirius hadn't become one legally. "Yes. We found a good home for him." Not quite a lie. She could count the number of people who knew the whole truth between her two hands and have fingers left over.

A soft, musical hoot chimed from the clock behind the counter, half-hidden behind advertisements for cages and food supplements. "Feeding time," Eeyelops hefted a large bag from behind the counter. "Don't suppose you want to help?"

"Experience," Lucy said ruefully, and they shared a laugh. The heft of the bag was . . . strange. But the string loosened easily. Dead mice. Yum. A nearby owl uttered a soft noise at the smell. "Hungry?"

"Start on over with the barn owls," Eeyelops called across the store. A few more items had appeared from under the counter, accompanied by the excited fluttering of wings. "Some of the more exotic breeds have fussy tastes."

A laugh escaped her at the haughty postures of several of the owls at that statement. They're extremely intelligent. More so that the native varieties. . . I wonder. "Have wizards been breeding owls?"

"Sure have!"

Lucy tossed a dead mouse in at a beautiful bird in shades of tan streaked with brown. The raptor caught it delicately in a razored beak.

"Owls have been used for post since before the Founders built Hogwarts, a thousand years ago. Been selecting the best for breeding ever since – and my birds are the finest you'll find anywhere. Raised a lot of 'em myself, from hatchling to sale. And most of them what breeds the exotic species are family." Metal scraped off metal as a cage door bounced shut.

The third bird demanded two mice, though the fourth seemed content with one, nibbling gently at her hair and tugging a lock free of the confining braid. "Mr. Eeyelops, how many mice do these owls get?" Gluttony isn't restricted to humans, after all.

"Oh, they'll tell ya," Eeyelops cheerfully called back, just as a particularly demanding screech owl made good on its name, none-too-softly, in her ear. Ow! "Just don't let them have more than three." That particular bird wasn't satisfied until it had the maximum amount of mice lying about the cage; and it still fixed her with a testing gaze.

"Oh, no you don't!" Lucy shut the cage firmly, resisting the urge to shake her finger at the spoiled creature the way her mother used to scold her brothers for sneaking muffins between meals. "You've your fair share, and no more!"

A walk down the line of cages of horned, tawny and screech owls showed several water dishes that needed refreshing; there were several active short-eared and burrowing owls that demanded mice as well. Most of the barred owls were asleep, though she was surprised how many birds in the store were active. Owls are usually nocturnal. I wonder if the wizards were breeding for daytime activity as well. Probably.

She was done in time to watch Eeyelops carefully slip several fluttering insects into the covered bat cage. Between the two of them they managed to coax a species Lucy had never seen before – 'Imported from India' said the sign – into eating several ground-up chunks of raw meat.

"Well, you're a quick learner and no mistake!" Eeyelops' wand whisked the last cage up to a ceiling hook. "What say I show you how to give the eagle-owl a few of his supplements? Crotchety bird picks 'em outta his feed."

Golden eyes, fierce and wild, locked with the shopkeeper's unyielding glare. A soft screech declared war on any foolish enough to force the large raptor into taking his medicine.

"Oh! Yes, please." But . . . Regret, spiced with a little guilt, flushed her cheeks. "Don't you have customers to see?"

A few had wandered in, made purchases, and wandered back out onto the cobbled street again as feeding progressed. Eeyelops waved his wand irritably at the ceiling, but the tip never moved far from the eagle's vicinity. "It's my afternoon tea. Shop's closed for a few minutes, while I take care of this cantankerous feathered fusspot."

An indignant skreeek tore the air.

Challenge simmered between the two combatants.

Sometimes I wish I had my vial, with the Juice of the Fireflower in it. I hope I don't end up needing it in the next few minutes.

But she pushed aside her worry, concentrating on avoiding striking talons and the sharp, curved beak as soon as the cage door burst open, bringing with it fierce golden feathers wrapped around a screech.

The winged warrior was rendered motionless by a rapid spell from Eeyelops. Lucy reached in and firmly pressed the hinges of the dangerous beak, forcing the mouth open. Quick as a blink, Ethan Eeyelops had poked two small pills deep down the bird's gullet.

In a trice, the bewildered raptor was back in his cage, throat working to swallow the pills. Lucy flipped the sign from Closed to Open, letting in a woman waiting patiently outside the door.

"Hah!" Eeyelops crowed, wiping fingers off on his robe. "I know you don't have a wand, Miss Lucy, but it's so easy, even a Muggle could do it!"

I really hate that word. Lucy stopped dead in the middle of the store. "Excuse me?"

"Oh! It's nothin' to be ashamed of, my dear." He bustled back behind the counter to ring up a purchase. The witch's blue robes looked somewhat like a postwoman's. "Why I have a cousin who's a Squib. Lives like a Muggle, best as she can, down in Surrey. But she has a decent Wizarding job, as a clerk. And no one gives her any trouble at all!"

Contrary to his words, however, the post-witch gave her a searching, and somewhat pitying glance as she left.

"Don't pay no nevermind to her." Eyelops wiped his hands on a clean cloth, coming out from behind the counter. "Most witches and wizards don't know what to do with Squibs. Look down on 'em. But they're not really different from Muggle-born witches or wizards, only opposite, I reckon. And they only come out of pureblood stock – though never the high families. I was surprised when Hagrid told me you and your brothers were all Squibs. It's usually not that common."

"I wouldn't think so," Lucy nodded, trying to keep a hold on her temper. What is he talking about? But she really wasn't interested in pursuing this topic any further.

"Thank you for your help today." Eeyelops handed her the list of books. "I 'spect Flourish and Blott's will have most of these. Hogwarts probably wouldn't, but the school has an account there, as I'm sure Hagrid's told you."

"Yes." Lucy dredged up a smile.

"Anything else I can do for you today, Miss Lucy?"

Take your prejudice and shove it – but it wasn't Eeyelops' fault, mostly. He was a product of his people's world, and not as bad a one as some others she'd met. "I do have a question," Lucy tucked the paper away. "A few of my students show an interest in continuing on in the field of Care of Magical Creatures, and they've been asking me about what to do after they leave Hogwarts. In the Muggle world, there are schools for further, specialized education after the required schooling is complete, but here …"

The wizard leant against the wooden counter, brown eyes thoughtful. "Well. There aren't many schools in the Wizarding world like the one you just mentioned. Young witches and wizards tend to leave Hogwarts and enter into an apprenticeship with an older witch or wizard who works with the animals they want to specialize in. I've had more than a few apprentices myself. One went on to completely renovate the Hogsmeade post."

It's all about connections, then. Lucy nodded, tucking the stray lock of hair behind one ear. "It doesn't seem like there are many opportunities out there."

Eeyelops shrugged, ringing up an older wizard's purchase of Treats for the Tawny. "More than you'd think. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is always offering apprenticeships, and in every specialty imaginable." The shopkeeper bid the man a familiar farewell before turning back to her. "That would be the place for you to go, speak to the witches and wizards there. It's the best place to direct your students."

"Sound advice." His grip was warm and calloused, marked by encounters with less than friendly raptors. "Thank you."

Eeyelops pumped her hand heartily. "Lovely to meet you, Miss Lucy. I hope I'll see you again."

"I'm sure of it." Chewing the inside of her cheek, Lucy exited Eeyelops Owl Emporium and headed back toward Fortescue's. Her brow furrowed as memory caught on a word she still couldn't puzzle out. What in the world is a Squib?

"Peter Pevensie."

The sneer had him turning, even as he recognized the voice. Twenty years, and Lucius Malfoy might have grown, but he hadn't changed a bit.

A smaller form, just as thin and icily blond, shadowed the older wizard out of the small, book-lined throughway. Knockturn Alley. And you brought Draco in there. The boy's face showed no recognition, and Peter took that as his cue.

"Lucius Malfoy."

The wizard didn't spare his son a glance. "Go along to Flourish and Blotts, boy. I have some business to attend to."

And three, two, one –

Elm, polished and smooth, was unlocked from Lucius' elegant cane a bare moment after Draco turned the corner out of sight.

Peter relaxed back against the bookstore's brick wall, eyeing the coolly poised wizard with amusement. Anger fairly vibrated between them; the source glaring daggers from the threshold of Knockturn Alley. Open hostilities. Edmund will be sorry to have missed this. But he was glad that Lucy wasn't there, for all her valor. He didn't want either of his sisters in Malfoy's way.

"Well," the wizard breathed, circling Peter. The man didn't miss the searching gaze, shifting on his feet at the strange light in Malfoy's eyes. What are you looking for? "My son told me, but I didn't believe it until now. Tell me." Elm centered on Peter's heart. "How have you have managed to cheat age? Not even a Mudblood, but a Muggle. . ."

"Still as charming as ever, I see," Peter drawled. You really think I'm going to answer that? "And still the foolish child." Perhaps baiting Malfoy wasn't the smartest thing to do. But his patience was running out with the Wizarding world, and he had never liked Lucius Malfoy. Where's Edmund when you need him?

Black silk swirled closer; bone-white cheeks matched the tightening grip on elm. "You should watch your tongue, Muggle," the wizard spat. "Or something . . . Unforgivable might happen."

Azure eyes flicked along the sunlit street; Diagon Alley was full of witches, wizards, and children, talking, playing and making purchases. It was the busiest time of afternoon, and Hogwarts letters had been arriving at homes for the past week. The stores were bustling and the cobblestones rang with the sound of feet. "I doubt that," Peter returned calmly. Far too many witnesses here for him to do anything more than insult me. And if I ruffle his feathers enough, I wonder what he'll tell me? "I hear you've been busy since we last met." Joining the Death Eaters, supporting the rise of Voldemort . . .

"Listening to rumors. How . . . crude. But what else could be expected from one of your kind?" The wand never wavered from its target, fury snapping through glacial eyes. Even in this shadowed corner, where Knockturn and Diagon Alley kissed corners, Malfoy blocked his movements from the populated street with his body.

"Albus Dumbledore is credible enough." Damned with faint praise, though I don't think Malfoy will notice. But the wizard snapped up the bait more quickly than he could have hoped for.

"Albus Dumbledore is a doddering old fool." The words curled off Malfoy's tongue with a disdainful relish. Peter barely caught the next few words, on a breath sliding out from between gritted teeth. "His Order of the Phoenix and Mudblood-loving ways will not be enough."

Order of the Phoenix? Hmmm. "Enough, Malfoy? For what, exactly?"

Elm lowered at that, the haughty voice rolling in a chuckle that pricked warningly at the skin on the back Peter's neck. "Muggles really are no better than cattle."

Arms folded across his chest, Peter held up a piece of the bookstore wall and fixed Malfoy with the look he reserved for young MI-5 recruits who had committed some inane error.

The wand lowered, but never lost its target. The wizard's face twisted with a burning, ugly anger. "Nothing to say? Pathetic."

"Not nearly as pathetic as crawling in the wake of Voldemort." Especially when even his followers jump at the sound of his name. Peter viewed Malfoy's struggle for composure, fingers tightening grimly on his arms.

"The Dark Lord will rule this world!"

Peter couldn't help himself at that – he laughed. "You are more of a fool than I'd thought, Lucius Malfoy."

Diamond-hard eyes narrowed; the wizard's wand-hand slashed the air between them. "Sectusempra!"

Even lowly hissed, it was a reckless risk. And the jet of sickeningly yellow light flared briefly to life in the space between them, lighting Malfoy's anticipation before dying out.

Testing to see if anything's changed? I wouldn't dirty my sword with your blood, Malfoy. But from his closed expression as the other drew smoothly back, Peter knew this confrontation was not over.

A moment of silence breezed through the space between them, winding into a howling wind crying through Knockturn Alley. But neither man moved, and in a moment Peter knew that the veneer of civility would snap down again. And we'll both pretend that he didn't just try to kill me. That wasn't what bothered him, though. If he even thought he could. Because Malfoy hadn't been surprised, not at all, to see Dark magic gutter and die, like a candle-flame against a windstorm.

"As a School Governor of Hogwarts, I hear many things." Aloofness covered the wizard once more. Malfoy looked at Peter as if the man was something the wizard had scraped off the bottom of his shoe.

"I'm sure." They had moved now, from outright threat to true negotiation. Peter was suddenly grateful for his years, short as they were, with British Intelligence. Nothing in the ruling of Narnia could have prepared him for this viciousness.

"Among them, how Dumbledore laid protections on the Muggles that polluted Hogwarts this past year." One wrist twisted, locking the wand innocuously within the cane once more. As hidden as Malfoy's true allegiance. But all too evident to those who knew where to look. "I have some small knowledge of magical protections." Haughty arrogance disclaimed the outwardly modest statement.

Peter waited.

"There is no combination of known spells that would give anyone such protection. Which means that it must be a trait of yours that provides you with such . . . immunity." The grasping greediness of his words was masked by "And such a unique quality could be . . . very valuable, to certain people."

An offer to join Voldemort? I thought I was no better than cattle? "I think not."

"Well." The elegant shrug looked too careless to be casual. "You have family, don't you, Pevensie?"

"They would never help you." Peter shoved the fury down deep. Don't let him see it. Don't let him win even that much. "And threatening them will get you nowhere."

A sudden clatter from Diagon Alley had them both tensing; neither let their attention slip from the other, however.

"You have chosen the losing side, Pevensie." One gloved hand threw the heavy cape back over one shoulder. Malfoy was the picture of decadent menace. Against the White Witch, you're no more than a child playing dress-up.

Peter stepped more fully into the sunlit street, leaving Malfoy guarding the threshold of Knockturn Alley. "On that, we will have to agree to disagree." The smile he gave the wizard was no more than an arrangement of facial muscles.

"I may have failed to kill you once." Malfoy was clearly remembering their first encounter. "It won't happen again." Older, clearly more learned in Dark magics, and just as cocksure as he had been twenty years ago.

And still he thinks he can muster a power greater than Aslan's love. "You think much of yourself," Peter said bluntly.

The taller man drew near enough for Peter to smell the twisted odor of Dark magic tainting his presence. "Even Dumbledore's protections cannot stand against the power I serve," he hissed. "You have no place in this world, Pevensie. It will kill you, and I will be there to watch."

When his family had arrived earlier that day, Edmund had wondered aloud where Diagon Alley was, precisely. His brother hadn't been able to find room for it on the map he'd brought with them. Lucy was of the opinion that all the missing space from buildings that looked larger than they were, or streets that seemed to go nowhere, had been gathered from across London and pieced together into Diagon Alley. Edmund had thought the archway behind the Leaky Cauldron had been a portal bringing them somewhere else entirely. The debate had lasted until they'd split up in front of Gringotts.

Peter now thought that Lucy must be right – because the space between them was seemed further than the difference between sunlight and shadow, Muggle and Wizard, Light and Dark, could account for. He shook his head and turned back to the street.

Behind him, Malfoy sneered, voice carrying only as far as Peter's ears. "Your day will come, Pevensie. You and your family will die by my Lord's hand – along with that Potter brat. Don't doubt it."

The bell above the door let loose a gentle shrill as the latch clicked into place.

Ribbit.

Lucy matched eyes with the decidedly overweight frog situated next to the door. It was hard to miss, being a brilliant yellow and apparently angrier than an insulted hippogriff. Even so, their staring match was pretty even. Until it opened a third eyelid in its forehead, glaring at her with an additional red orb. Magical Menagerie – they weren't joking! "No fair cheating!"

Ribbit.

Insufferably pleased with itself, the frog tipped its fat body over the edge of the rock it had been reclining on, disappearing into algae-slimed water with a plop. Green spots dotted the glass separating her from the very realistic, miniature swamp that made up the amphibian's habitat.

Cages of glass and wire mesh were everywhere – lining each wall and several alcoves jutting from the sides of the room. Everywhere she looked, fur and scales and feathers were on display. One cage of rats not far from where she was standing had several sleek, black specimens performing tricks.

Oooh! Is that a -

Booted feet took her through the aisles, smiling and murmuring compliments to the creatures she could see. A white rabbit in the far corner kept Disapparating with a crack! from plain sight, and then crawling out over the brim of a rather battered and stained top hat propped in one side of the cage.

Cats meowed, a few puppies barked, and in the corner of her vision four neon-colored hamsters looked to be playing Whist. In a cage pushed right up next to the hamsters, an iguana nearly half a meter long had sidled up to the glass and was peering over the pink one's cards.

Rustling sounds drew Lucy's gaze upward. Above her, shiny dark eyes topped a sable-feathered body.

"Nevermore," snorted a male voice from behind.

"Edmund!"

"Thought I might find you in here," her brother grinned, loosening his arms from the quick hug. Then he had to duck as she aimed a punch at his shoulder. "What was that for?"

"For sneaking up on me." Scaring the dickens out of me, more like! Lucy took a moment, caught her breath, and looked at the raven. She looks irritated. Edmund's manners strike again! "And for being rude."

"My apologies," Edmund said solemnly. Laughter danced behind the blank mask he'd made of his face. Not sorry, Lucy sighed. Not in the least.

The raven saw it as clearly as she did, turning fully away. The strong scent of droppings colored the air.

She giggled. "You're lucky she was locked in her cage, or you'd be cleaning your hair."

Edmund scowled.

His heavier tread followed her down the aisle past the hamsters, who covered their cards as the two humans passed. Up the next lane she finally found what she was looking for. Scales of every color and imaginable pattern lined the aisle in heated cages. The air itself carried the warm smell of the desert. Most were dry reptiles, iguanas and serpents, with a few skinks and chameleons scattered in. "Here we go!"

Edmund was politely disbelieving. "Snakes?"

"Can I help you?"

A lanky witch, all elbows and sharp knees poking out from her robes, approached. Heavy black spectacles peered Lucy's way. Spared a moment longer for Edmund, before returning to the one who was clearly more seriously interested in the store's wares.

Unfortunately for her, they had no plans to buy anything. She'd come for a different reason entirely.

"I was wondering," Lucy said brightly. "You have quite a few snakes here. How do you care for them? Do you have any Parseltongues on your staff?"

The witch shuddered, tracing a symbol on her chest in the shape of a circle, quartered with a cross. "Merlin, no!"

Lucy's brows drew down. A – a warding sign?

"I'm sorry?" Edmund cut in smoothly. No one had ever said her brother wasn't quick, and the word had pricked his immediate interest. I thought it might.

"I don't know where you're from," the witch replied. Spectacles took in the Muggle clothing, and made the obvious leap. "But we don't want any truck with Parseltongues here."

"Why?"

Lucy smiled at the intrusion of a new voice. "Hello, Peter."

The saleswitch looked distinctly hunted as her brother approached them from the other end of the aisle. Neatly trapped between them, the witch's fingers laced in nervous patterns with off-white sleeves.

"Hey, Lu, Ed. I thought I'd check and see if you were here before we found some lunch."

"Oh, we're almost ready to go," Edmund said cheerfully. "We just had a few questions to ask."

Double-teamed. She hated when they did it to her – and by the wincing of the saleswitch's entire body, she wasn't the only one.

The witch straightened, towering over even Edmund, and took a deep breath. "Sirs. Miss. I know you must be new to the magical world, if you're even asking. But being a Parseltongue is . . . rare." It sounded as if something much ruder had only just been kept from spilling off her tongue. "It's the mark of a Dark witch or wizard."

Something near Lucy's foot hissed.

The saleswitch raised a trembling hand to push back strawberry-blond straggles that had escaped from the neat bun on the back of her head. "I'm sure you're familiar with Hogwarts? The symbol of Slytherin house is a snake – because that Founder, Salazar Slytherin, could speak with them. He was the first Dark wizard, who split the Founders of Hogwarts, and spilled the seeds of Dark wizardry in our world."

The witch's obvious belief of what she was saying rubbed the wrong way against Lucy's common sense. That's ridiculous. There were probably Dark wizards as long as magic has existed, and no one person can be blamed for all the evils of the world. No matter how corrupt and Dark Slytherin had been, the decision of Light or Dark rested with each person.

"There are none in our time, thank Merlin. Some people tried to say the Boy Who Lived is a you-know-what, but it's just jealous gossip. Now, if you'll excuse me," the witch edged between Peter and a four-meter-long python's cage. "I have work I must be getting back to."

"Thank you," Peter tried. Under cream robes, the witch's shoulders grew board-stiff. Heels clicked sharply as she stalked back to the register.

"Marvelous." Edmund traced a finger over the glass separating them from the python, thoughts far away and just as grim as his tone if she knew him at all. "That went well."

If snakes could look sardonic, the tilt of that one's head was certainly so. About as well as the Blitz. Brown eyes studied the underside of a squared-off cage dangling from the ceiling. There was a shifting inside, sending stalks of hay drifting to the wooden boards underfoot.

Something rumbled.

Lucy's search for the upset animal was halted by a sweep of red across high cheekbones. "Hungry, Ed?"

"Me too," Peter admitted freely.

Scales shifted behind glass; the python's head disappeared into thick coils of lightly armored muscle. As they headed for the door, Lucy saw the saleswitch make that same sign again, and showed a frown to the open street.

"A shop full of familiars." Tallest of the three, Edmund glanced over his shoulder at the Magical Menagerie. Witches and wizards streamed between them as soon as they got three steps from the door, the crowd gulping them down.

"And she was making a warding sign against us." Lucy couldn't quite believe it.

"Against Parseltongues," Peter corrected. Blue eyes made sure the word traveled to their ears and no farther. "What do you think, Ed?"

Which was really why she'd asked in the first place. Edmund held patient confidentiality sacrosanct, but Harry had told them all the story when relating it to his horrified godfather and Remus. The story of his first year and the Philosopher's Stone had come out only the previous night. I've never seen anyone so furious.

"I'm trying not to."

"I'm just glad Susan's not here." Lucy tucked red strands behind her ear.

Two pairs of eyes widened at the implications of that. "Thank Aslan."

The blond head turned, gazing for a long moment over the rest of Diagon Alley. It felt like they had been there for hours, but the crowds had not lessened in the slightest. Lucy's watch gave lie to the feeling with the claim of a mere hour and a half having passed since they had changed their money at Gringotts. She shook it.

Something about technology not working around magic? Peter read about it in Hogwarts, A History. I'll have to ask him.

"Ready to go home?"

Edmund heaved a sigh. Lucy accepted his arm, letting Peter lead. "Yeah. You won't believe who I ran into."

The oldest Pevensie barked a laugh. "Likewise."

"Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Edmund challenged.

"Lucius Malfoy."

Heads turned their way at Ed's low whistle.

Blue eyes flicked to the sky, seeking patience.

Lucy gave them each a stiff shove towards the brick archway leading to the Leaky Cauldron. More than enough for one day! "Let's get back to the Mansion."

"All right."

They feel it too. For all this place seemed sunlit and welcoming, there was a definite wall warning Muggles away. Subtle cues – less than a language barrier, but something in the sidelong looks their clothes garnered, and the occasional parent whispering to a curious child. At Hogwarts, it was easy to forget.

Following Peter out from under the brick archway, Lucy's jaw tightened. Well, no one said it was going to be easy. And we've come too far to think of turning back now!

Still, leaving the Leaky Cauldron for 'Muggle' London was a gentle relief.

"I think he thought we were Squibs." The sausage was laden with sauerkraut and wrapped securely in a fat slice of bread. Teeth dug in eagerly; Lucy swallowed.

We were what? "What's a Squib?" Edmund took a bite of his own sausage, relishing the taste for all it was a little cold. They'd bought the 'hotdogs' at a truck idling by the curb, and walked until they reached the park.

His sister shrugged. "I have no idea. Someone non-magical, was all I could gather. And . . . they seem to be rare."

"Eeyelops said he talked with Hagrid?" On the other side of the bench, Peter pressed at a headache pounding behind blue eyes.

Auburn locks nodded, reluctantly.

"And Amelia Bones heard from her niece Susan." Edmund wished he didn't have to add to the tiny pain lines carved around Peter's eyes. But Peter could never stand not knowing the whole truth. And he can't do anything unless he knows everything. . .

"I just can't get over that witch's reaction in the Menagerie," Lucy fumed. Bread-wrapped sausage jabbed the air violently. "Acting as if being a Parseltongue is a mark of Darkness! And then Harry!" She hated the House prejudice we saw at Hogwarts last year, too. "It's not Harry's fault he can talk to snakes." For all the Valiant was not afraid to plunge in to try to help someone in need, Lucy remembered to keep her voice down.

The park was more deserted than Diagon Alley had been, but there were still people on cycles, and walkers of all ages with their dogs. The bench where Edmund and his brother flanked their sister was situated on the far side of a small pond, giving him a clear view of the graveled path hosting those intent on enjoying the day. "She was warding off even the mention of a Parseltongue, wasn't she?"

"Hmmm." Blue eyes stared sightlessly at the flock of ducks making their noisy way through muddy water. "A circle, quartered by a cross."

The Sign of Light.

Edmund shook the implications of that away for the moment. Peter had said something to them before, but they didn't know anything solid. Not yet, at least. "And I have to find out more before I can help Harry." He's already under public scrutiny far more than anyone should ever have to be, especially at his age. Not just for defeating Voldemort, but being Sirius Black's ward. . . One reflective bite of sausage sat queasily in his stomach.

"Too many questions without answers." Peter had both hands free, having finished his sausage on the walk. One finger ticked off each point. "What are Squibs? The Order of the Phoenix? The Wizarding world's views on Parseltongues? How dangerous is Amelia Bones to us, and why didn't Dumbledore say anything about Snape?" Shoulders slumped. "We need answers."

As ever, Lucy went straight to the heart of the issue. "What are we going to do about it?"

"We don't know nearly enough." His brother offered Lucy a hand, pulling her from the bench.

A sudden idea had Edmund grinning, swallowing down the last of his sausage with much more enthusiasm. "But I know who we can ask."

Remus glanced at the parcels littering the table. "How did you like Diagon Alley?"

"It was an interesting place." Water ran in the sink as Lucy scrubbed her hands. Owl Emporium, Remus mused, spying a stray piece of down from an eagle owl stuck in red strands. Musical tones were muffled as she tried to speak over her shoulder. "We learned quite a lot."

Sirius smirked around a sip of cider. "Really?"

"Really." Peter grunted as he dropped into a chair, fighting loose the cap to a bottle of paracetamol. Muggle medicine. . . a headache, probably. The younger brother's face was sympathetic to the set of the oldest Pevensie's mouth, and tiny pain lines around the eyes.

Remus braced himself as the sympathy morphed to determination, and settled on the two wizards.

"Uh-oh." Only the wolf heard it. To his left, a teacup lowered in trepidation. Sirius was eyeing Edmund with all the threat-assessment skills taught by Aurors, and honed by Azkaban.

"So." The look on Edmund's face was intently mischievous. No wonder his family can always tell when he's trying to act innocent. Remus felt the wolf prick wary ears, and cast a mental banishing charm on his alarm, for all the good it did. The expected question blindsided him anyway. "What's the Order of the Phoenix?"

Fin