Digory frowns and fingers the edge of the wardrobe door, shut not quite tight, of course - the children had been taught that much at least, it seems - before pulling it fully open, not so much as a creak sounding from its hinges.

Inside, nothing at all - certainly not the children who have been missing for a full day now - until he notices it at the edge of his vision, tiny puddles near the back, as if from melting clumps of snow, and reflected in them, a quicksilver flash of red and white.

“Ah, there you are, old friend,” he says (with some smug satisfaction, it must be admitted), slipping the fox coat from its hanger, incredibly light despite hanging clear to the floor even on his frame and continuing as he steps into the wardrobe, the door swinging nearly shut behind him, “Now, let us see what sort of nonsense has happened inside, hmm?”

I felt obligated to fill this since my name was in it