Chapter Text
In a faraway land, there stood a grand castle ruled by four monarchs. It was a land of stories, where every magical creature imaginable existed. Among these rulers was King Edmund Pevensie, the Just. One day, as he rode down a familiar path, surrounded by trees and flowers, the wind gently stirred his dark hair. His horse trotted steadily beneath him until they reached a place Edmund knew well, the familiar lamp post that marked the boundary between Narnia and the world beyond.
Edmund gazed at it, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. He dismounted, his boots crunching softly against the earth as he approached the lamp post. “This lamp post,” he muttered to himself, “is what allowed us to leave, alongside that wardrobe that started it all.”
He stepped past the lamp post, expecting to return to England, but instead, something strange happened. A sudden tugging sensation pulled at his chest, and the world around him spun. Before he could react, Edmund stumbled forward and fell only to land hard on a cold stone floor.
Dazed, he pushed himself up, blinking in confusion. The room was nothing like the forest he had just left. Towering stone walls stretched high above him, decorated with ancient tapestries. Floating candles hovered midair, casting a warm, golden glow. The air was thick with magic and mystery.
A soft shuffling sound drew his attention. An elderly man in flowing robes approached, his long silver beard brushing against his chest. His half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, twinkling eyes studying Edmund with quiet curiosity.
“Ah,” the man said, his voice warm and melodic. “It seems we have an unexpected visitor. And you are…?”
Edmund rose slowly, brushing dust from his fine clothes. His polished boots and royal attire felt out of place in this strange, gloomy castle. He hesitated for a moment before responding. “I… I don’t know where I am,” he admitted, still trying to understand how he had ended up here.
The old man smiled kindly, extending a hand. “I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And you, my young friend, appear to have stumbled upon a rather curious place.”
Edmund felt his heart race with confusion. “This… this isn’t Narnia, is it?”
“I’m afraid not,” Dumbledore said, amusement flickering in his eyes.
In a rush of uncertainty, Edmund pulled the crown from his head and quickly hid it behind his back. As regal as it was, wearing a crown in an unknown world suddenly felt foolish. Gathering himself, he shook the headmaster’s hand. “My name is Edmund Pevensie,” he said. “Um… you wouldn’t happen to know how I could return to Narnia, would you?”
Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to the portrait behind Edmund. Painted upon it was a breathtaking scene—snow-covered woods and distant mountains. It was unmistakably Narnia. Yet, as Edmund turned back to it and raised a hand to touch the canvas, his fingers met only solid paint and rough texture. No magic stirred. The gateway that had pulled him here was closed.
A shadow of disappointment crossed his face. For all his wisdom, Edmund did not understand this kind of magic. “Why won’t it open?” he murmured.
Dumbledore observed him with a mix of sympathy and curiosity. “It appears the door between your world and ours has shut, at least for now,” he said softly. “But if there is a way here… perhaps there is a way back.”
Edmund’s shoulders sagged, frustration curling in his chest. He had responsibilities in Narnia, he couldn’t afford to be trapped in another world. “Is there… any way to reopen it?” he asked, trying to mask the urgency in his voice.
Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. “Finding the answer may take time. But while you remain here, it would be best if you had a place to stay and perhaps something to learn while we search for your way home.” His eyes twinkled. “I propose you enroll as a student at Hogwarts. It will offer you shelter and, who knows, perhaps the magic of this castle may reveal the path back to Narnia in time.”
Edmund hesitated. He had ruled a kingdom was he now to become a student again? Yet, without another clear path forward, there seemed little choice. “I… suppose that makes sense,” he said reluctantly. “If it helps me find a way back, I’ll do it.”
“Excellent,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “Come, Edmund Pevensie. Let us find you a place at Hogwarts.”
Edmund hesitated, glancing back at the portrait of Narnia one last time. The image remained still no sign of the magic that had pulled him here, no doorway back to the land he ruled alongside his siblings. With a sigh, he turned to follow Dumbledore, who was already beginning to walk down the corridor.
As his boots echoed against the stone floor, something the old man had said finally caught up with him. “Hold on a moment,” Edmund blurted out, quickening his pace to catch up. “Did you say… witchcraft and wizardry? But I don’t have any magic. How would I be able to study here?”
Dumbledore stopped and turned to face him, his expression as calm and patient as ever. “Ah,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling with curiosity. “If you truly had no magic, my dear boy, you would not have arrived here at all. Hogwarts only welcomes those who possess magic whether they know it or not.”
Edmund blinked in surprise. “But… I’ve never done magic before,” he insisted, though a flicker of uncertainty stirred in the back of his mind. “I mean, we’ve seen magic in Narnia Aslan’s magic, the White Witch’s but I’ve never used it myself.”
Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully, his fingers brushing over the silver buttons on his robes. “Magic is a curious thing. It often lies dormant until the right circumstances bring it forth. And given the rather unusual way you arrived through a portrait, no less. I suspect there is more to you than meets the eye.” His gaze sharpened slightly, as though seeing beyond the surface. “Tell me, Edmund… have you encountered any particularly strong magic in your adventures?”
Edmund’s hand unconsciously drifted to his side, where a faint scar lay beneath his royal tunic a reminder of that final battle against the White Witch. He remembered it clearly: the clash of swords, the bitter cold of her magic, and how he had shattered her wand with a desperate strike.
“When I broke the White Witch’s wand,” Edmund said slowly, his voice quieter now, “a shard of it hit me. I didn’t think much of it, I was too busy trying to survive but… could that have done something?”
Dumbledore’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Magic, especially powerful magic, rarely vanishes without a trace. If a piece of her wand struck you, it is entirely possible some of her magic… lingered.” He tilted his head slightly. “Have you felt anything unusual since that day? Strange sensations? Things happening around you that you cannot explain?”
Edmund frowned, sorting through memories he had long pushed aside. There had been strange moments small things. The way the air around him sometimes felt warmer when he was angry, or how, when he wanted to calm his horse during a storm, the animal had settled almost instantly. He had always chalked it up to instincts or luck. But magic?
“I… I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But if I do have magic…” He hesitated, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. “I need to learn to control it. I can’t risk hurting anyone, especially not my family.”
Dumbledore smiled softly. “A wise and noble thought. You remind me of other young men I’ve known those who carry more weight than they ought to at their age.” His voice grew warmer as he gestured toward a spiraling staircase ahead. “Come. Hogwarts is a place of learning, and if you are willing, we will help you understand this gift of yours—and, perhaps, find a way back to Narnia in due time.”
Edmund fell into step beside him, his mind racing with questions. “And if I don’t have magic?” he asked, the practical side of him not willing to be swept away by the headmaster’s easy confidence.
Dumbledore chuckled softly. “If that were true, you would have found yourself anywhere but Hogwarts. The castle only allows those with magic to enter and I dare say it has never been wrong.”
Edmund let the words sink in. Magic his magic—had brought him here. If there was even a chance of understanding it, of using it to return home, he had to try.
With one last glance over his shoulder at the portrait of Narnia, he took a deep breath and followed Dumbledore into the heart of Hogwarts.