(Harry Potter/Narnia) The Lionhearted for isabelquinn
Title: The Lionhearted
Author: hiddencait
Fandoms: Harry Potter, Narnia
Characters: Hermione Granger, Rose Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy, Neville Longbottom; Jill Pole, Eustace Scrubb, Prince Rilian
Pairings: Jill Pole/Eustace Scrubb, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley (implied), pre Rose Weasley/Scorpius Malfoy
Rating: T
Word count: 1539
Spoilers: All of the Harry Potter series through the final epilogue; Chronicles of Narnia through The Silver Chair
Warnings: mild bullying
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the Chronicles of Narnia belong to their respective creators
A/N: So totally enjoyed this one. I wasn’t sure I could pull off this kind of non-linear story telling, but the idea just jumped out at me. Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, thanks again to aurilly for the beta - her comments totally helped make this better! BTW, I decided to only use the Narnia verse up to The Last Battle just due to the making the timeline work out. Hope you don’t mind, isabelquinn!
Summary: It should come as no surprise that she was a Gryffindor. Hermione Granger was always destined for the house of the Lion.
The Lionhearted
It was something of a shock considering the score of battles fought in her youth and young adulthood, but Hermione did not die in combat. She had thought to go down fighting, her wand or perhaps even her old friend Rilian’s rapier in her hand as she took some of her many foes with her. It would have been a valiant death, and one she would have welcomed once upon a time.
Instead, she found herself dying as an old woman, slipping away in her bed in her cozy home with her family and friends gathered around her. She sighed softly, almost annoyed at the idea, but then closed her eyes, the lessons of her youth reminding her that this was indeed the better death.
An honorable life lived was always worth more than an honorable death. As if in approval of her final thoughts, the soft touch of fur brushed against her fingers, and then a warm breath bathed her face.
“Aslan…” she whispered and then was gone.
…
The first time Hermione Granger discovered Narnia, she was only 10 years old and waiting to be collected at the train station by her Great Aunt Jill for a summer holiday. She wasn’t particularly pleased that day: the aforementioned aunt was one she had never met, and worse, was one who lived out in the country miles away from the nearest library.
Thus, she was in a fairly disagreeable mood even before the horrible boy on the platform began to mock her for the book she held in her arms and her bushy hair and her teeth and really anything a boy could find to mock.
She had just been about to look for a helpful adult to deal with the beastly boy when the ground began to shake violently beneath her and she tumbled backward off the edge of the platform and down, down, down… She landed hard on someone’s shoulder, knocking them to the ground, and then tumbled further onto a plush carpet, the edges of her book digging into her sides. She rolled over and found a tall man reaching down to take her hand and help her find her feet in what was possibly the most enormous library she had ever seen.
The man’s name, as she finally remembered her manners to ask some time later, was called King Rilian, and the library was in his palace in Narnia.
The story of Lady Hermione, Daughter of Eve, and her arrival just in time to fell an assassin bent on killing the king (for said assassin was apparently the person on whom she had landed) was quickly touted about as legend among the kingdom, but Hermione hardly noticed between her lust for the library and the lessons in hand to hand and swordsmanship her new friend the king insisted on.
When Hermione eventually fell back to her own world and clambered back onto the platform just in time to avoid being splattered like a train, the beastly boy was still standing there waiting and mocking and completely unwilling to help her back up.
Hermione promptly punched the boy in the nose just as Rilian had taught her.
…
Hermione didn’t need to be a genius to know the day her children first followed her lead into Aslan’s country. It was obvious, even if her children didn’t know how her story or even know that they could tell her about their journey. She’d long known that Narnia left its mark on those who’d traveled there, and that the families of those travelers often ended up there, too. Well really, Hermione herself was proof of that - if Great Aunt Jill’s diary was to be believed, Hermione was her heir to Narnia as well as to that lady’s earthly estate. She only hoped Jill and her late Great Uncle Eustace had been as proud of Hermione as she was of her own children. Knowing it was the only sign she could give to show that she believed in Aslan as strongly as her children did, Hermione solemnly passed Aunt Jill’s diary on to her daughter.
Her daughter shared the diary with her brother and cousins, but only Rose realized her mother Hermione was the same lady of legend the Narnian Dowager Queen Luciana had spoken of.
…
Hermione’s second journey into Narnia was just at the start of her fourth year at Hogwarts. She and Neville had been walking the edge of the lake looking for plants for an extra credit project for Herbology. Not that either of them needed extra credit in that class, of course, but it was the one class that gave Neville any kind of confidence, and she was always happy to help.
She was less than happy when Neville slipped on one of the rocks and fell headlong into the lake, tugging her after in his frantic attempts to save himself.
They broke surface coughing and sputtering and Hermione was gearing up for quite a scathing lecture when she noticed the water of the lake had suddenly become salty against her tongue, and waves suddenly crashed against them, shocking Neville and sending Hermione under again.
It was only when a net dropped down upon them and pulled them safely onto a familiar sailing ship that Hermione realized where they’d gone, and what poor Neville was likely in for.
It turned out she misjudged him - though that shouldn’t have surprised her with all she knew of Narnia.
With the help of King Rilian’s favorite nephew, Neville found his strength and a talent for a broadsword he would never have guessed he’d have.
A lovely dryad also taught him to waltz. Hermione hadn’t even laughed at the news, just congratulated him on charming the loveliest bit of flora he was ever likely to meet.
At the ball months later after their return to Hogwarts and the insanity of the Tournament, Neville’s dancing charmed more than just the dryads.
Hermione couldn’t have been prouder of him.
…
It was harder than Hermione thought it would be to know her children again made the journey to Narnia. For so many years, she missed the shores and the sea and green stretches of Aslan’s country. That her children might still venture there without her both brought pain at her loss and pride at their strength.
Her pride was perhaps filtered with bemusement the second time Rose returned back from Hogwarts with a story she knew only her mother would understand. Considering Rose was accompanied that time to Aslan’s court with none other than Scorpius Malfoy, Hermione could hardly be blamed for her surprise.
Still, she remembered the stories Aunt Jill told: of a younger brother twisted by jealousy that turned instead to heroism to save the lives of his threatened family and of Great Uncle Eustace and who grew from arrogant loathing to true friendship with his cousins. If ever there was a place that a Slytherin heir might learn tolerance and courage, Narnia would be it.
Hermione comforted her daughter and assured her that her newly found friend would be welcome in their house. Then Hermione girded her loins and went to inform her husband that he might one day have to welcome a Malfoy into the family.
…
The last time Hermione returned to Narnia, it was just at the start of the summer before what would have been her seventh year at Hogwarts, and she was alone at the gate to the garden of her parents’ little house.
Hermione opened the gate and stepped through and found herself elsewhere.
She discovered nearly 200 years had passed, and the line of Rilian had forgotten her. She survived the hurt, and survived the battle she found herself drawn into to save Crown Princess Luciana’s kingdom. She saved the princess just as she’d saved Luciana’s forefather so many years before.
It was a reminder she didn’t dare ignore upon finding herself once again in her family garden.
Being forgotten was not the worst fate she would face in the coming year at Harry Potter’s side.
Hermione entered the house and strode silently into the den and then carefully Obliviated both her parents.
Before leaving the flat, Hermione left a letter in the post to her Great Aunt. It was utter selfishness, she knew. But at least one member of her family would remember to mourn her if she didn’t return.
It was cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
…
When Hermione was 11, she first arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The Sorting Hat thought long and hard about where to place the busy-haired young girl, reckoning Ravenclaw was almost more of a match for her, but a fierce argument on Hermione’s part had it bending to her will.
She was sorted into Gryffindor House. The house of the Lion, she told herself with scarcely disguised glee.
When she owled her parents with the news, they wrote back to congratulate her, but Hermione sensed they didn’t understand that glorious distinction.
Thus, Hermione wrote to the only other member of her family who might really comprehend what the designation meant to her.
Her Aunt Jill wrote back only this:
My dear child, you have always belonged to the Lion.
-END-
Prompts:
-Non-linear storytelling
-Unusual mode of transportation
-"Slide down into the sea / twelve hours on your feet / get the tide to wash you away / for thousands and thousands of days"
Author: hiddencait
Fandoms: Harry Potter, Narnia
Characters: Hermione Granger, Rose Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy, Neville Longbottom; Jill Pole, Eustace Scrubb, Prince Rilian
Pairings: Jill Pole/Eustace Scrubb, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley (implied), pre Rose Weasley/Scorpius Malfoy
Rating: T
Word count: 1539
Spoilers: All of the Harry Potter series through the final epilogue; Chronicles of Narnia through The Silver Chair
Warnings: mild bullying
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the Chronicles of Narnia belong to their respective creators
A/N: So totally enjoyed this one. I wasn’t sure I could pull off this kind of non-linear story telling, but the idea just jumped out at me. Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, thanks again to aurilly for the beta - her comments totally helped make this better! BTW, I decided to only use the Narnia verse up to The Last Battle just due to the making the timeline work out. Hope you don’t mind, isabelquinn!
Summary: It should come as no surprise that she was a Gryffindor. Hermione Granger was always destined for the house of the Lion.
The Lionhearted
It was something of a shock considering the score of battles fought in her youth and young adulthood, but Hermione did not die in combat. She had thought to go down fighting, her wand or perhaps even her old friend Rilian’s rapier in her hand as she took some of her many foes with her. It would have been a valiant death, and one she would have welcomed once upon a time.
Instead, she found herself dying as an old woman, slipping away in her bed in her cozy home with her family and friends gathered around her. She sighed softly, almost annoyed at the idea, but then closed her eyes, the lessons of her youth reminding her that this was indeed the better death.
An honorable life lived was always worth more than an honorable death. As if in approval of her final thoughts, the soft touch of fur brushed against her fingers, and then a warm breath bathed her face.
“Aslan…” she whispered and then was gone.
…
The first time Hermione Granger discovered Narnia, she was only 10 years old and waiting to be collected at the train station by her Great Aunt Jill for a summer holiday. She wasn’t particularly pleased that day: the aforementioned aunt was one she had never met, and worse, was one who lived out in the country miles away from the nearest library.
Thus, she was in a fairly disagreeable mood even before the horrible boy on the platform began to mock her for the book she held in her arms and her bushy hair and her teeth and really anything a boy could find to mock.
She had just been about to look for a helpful adult to deal with the beastly boy when the ground began to shake violently beneath her and she tumbled backward off the edge of the platform and down, down, down… She landed hard on someone’s shoulder, knocking them to the ground, and then tumbled further onto a plush carpet, the edges of her book digging into her sides. She rolled over and found a tall man reaching down to take her hand and help her find her feet in what was possibly the most enormous library she had ever seen.
The man’s name, as she finally remembered her manners to ask some time later, was called King Rilian, and the library was in his palace in Narnia.
The story of Lady Hermione, Daughter of Eve, and her arrival just in time to fell an assassin bent on killing the king (for said assassin was apparently the person on whom she had landed) was quickly touted about as legend among the kingdom, but Hermione hardly noticed between her lust for the library and the lessons in hand to hand and swordsmanship her new friend the king insisted on.
When Hermione eventually fell back to her own world and clambered back onto the platform just in time to avoid being splattered like a train, the beastly boy was still standing there waiting and mocking and completely unwilling to help her back up.
Hermione promptly punched the boy in the nose just as Rilian had taught her.
…
Hermione didn’t need to be a genius to know the day her children first followed her lead into Aslan’s country. It was obvious, even if her children didn’t know how her story or even know that they could tell her about their journey. She’d long known that Narnia left its mark on those who’d traveled there, and that the families of those travelers often ended up there, too. Well really, Hermione herself was proof of that - if Great Aunt Jill’s diary was to be believed, Hermione was her heir to Narnia as well as to that lady’s earthly estate. She only hoped Jill and her late Great Uncle Eustace had been as proud of Hermione as she was of her own children. Knowing it was the only sign she could give to show that she believed in Aslan as strongly as her children did, Hermione solemnly passed Aunt Jill’s diary on to her daughter.
Her daughter shared the diary with her brother and cousins, but only Rose realized her mother Hermione was the same lady of legend the Narnian Dowager Queen Luciana had spoken of.
…
Hermione’s second journey into Narnia was just at the start of her fourth year at Hogwarts. She and Neville had been walking the edge of the lake looking for plants for an extra credit project for Herbology. Not that either of them needed extra credit in that class, of course, but it was the one class that gave Neville any kind of confidence, and she was always happy to help.
She was less than happy when Neville slipped on one of the rocks and fell headlong into the lake, tugging her after in his frantic attempts to save himself.
They broke surface coughing and sputtering and Hermione was gearing up for quite a scathing lecture when she noticed the water of the lake had suddenly become salty against her tongue, and waves suddenly crashed against them, shocking Neville and sending Hermione under again.
It was only when a net dropped down upon them and pulled them safely onto a familiar sailing ship that Hermione realized where they’d gone, and what poor Neville was likely in for.
It turned out she misjudged him - though that shouldn’t have surprised her with all she knew of Narnia.
With the help of King Rilian’s favorite nephew, Neville found his strength and a talent for a broadsword he would never have guessed he’d have.
A lovely dryad also taught him to waltz. Hermione hadn’t even laughed at the news, just congratulated him on charming the loveliest bit of flora he was ever likely to meet.
At the ball months later after their return to Hogwarts and the insanity of the Tournament, Neville’s dancing charmed more than just the dryads.
Hermione couldn’t have been prouder of him.
…
It was harder than Hermione thought it would be to know her children again made the journey to Narnia. For so many years, she missed the shores and the sea and green stretches of Aslan’s country. That her children might still venture there without her both brought pain at her loss and pride at their strength.
Her pride was perhaps filtered with bemusement the second time Rose returned back from Hogwarts with a story she knew only her mother would understand. Considering Rose was accompanied that time to Aslan’s court with none other than Scorpius Malfoy, Hermione could hardly be blamed for her surprise.
Still, she remembered the stories Aunt Jill told: of a younger brother twisted by jealousy that turned instead to heroism to save the lives of his threatened family and of Great Uncle Eustace and who grew from arrogant loathing to true friendship with his cousins. If ever there was a place that a Slytherin heir might learn tolerance and courage, Narnia would be it.
Hermione comforted her daughter and assured her that her newly found friend would be welcome in their house. Then Hermione girded her loins and went to inform her husband that he might one day have to welcome a Malfoy into the family.
…
The last time Hermione returned to Narnia, it was just at the start of the summer before what would have been her seventh year at Hogwarts, and she was alone at the gate to the garden of her parents’ little house.
Hermione opened the gate and stepped through and found herself elsewhere.
She discovered nearly 200 years had passed, and the line of Rilian had forgotten her. She survived the hurt, and survived the battle she found herself drawn into to save Crown Princess Luciana’s kingdom. She saved the princess just as she’d saved Luciana’s forefather so many years before.
It was a reminder she didn’t dare ignore upon finding herself once again in her family garden.
Being forgotten was not the worst fate she would face in the coming year at Harry Potter’s side.
Hermione entered the house and strode silently into the den and then carefully Obliviated both her parents.
Before leaving the flat, Hermione left a letter in the post to her Great Aunt. It was utter selfishness, she knew. But at least one member of her family would remember to mourn her if she didn’t return.
It was cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
…
When Hermione was 11, she first arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The Sorting Hat thought long and hard about where to place the busy-haired young girl, reckoning Ravenclaw was almost more of a match for her, but a fierce argument on Hermione’s part had it bending to her will.
She was sorted into Gryffindor House. The house of the Lion, she told herself with scarcely disguised glee.
When she owled her parents with the news, they wrote back to congratulate her, but Hermione sensed they didn’t understand that glorious distinction.
Thus, Hermione wrote to the only other member of her family who might really comprehend what the designation meant to her.
Her Aunt Jill wrote back only this:
My dear child, you have always belonged to the Lion.
-END-
Prompts:
-Non-linear storytelling
-Unusual mode of transportation
-"Slide down into the sea / twelve hours on your feet / get the tide to wash you away / for thousands and thousands of days"